#when being a teacher is like 50% grading shit

[just-french-me-up]

Endless Sandman Fanfiction Tropes I Adore (2/?) : ➻ Professor Robert "Hob" Gadling

[issdisgrace]

THE START OF BILLY HARGROVE AND HIS METAL HEAD BF RELATIONSHIP

WARNINGS: Use of the word fag, nothing else​

A/N: There will be a part 2 in the future eventually.​

You and Billy officially met when you two were paired together for a History project. Both of you hated the idea of having to work with each other because why wouldn’t you.

You two were complete opposites. You were a 6’2 metal head that wore corpse paint, band tees, and arguably way to many rings. While Billy was a 5’10 blonde hair blue eyed fuck boy that drove a loud ass car.

So it was no surprise that you both asked the teacher if there was anyway to get a different partner.

Unfortunately or rather fortunately the two of you couldn’t get out of doing the project together. While neither of you really cared all that much for your grades you both needed to pass the class and the project would count as 50% of your grade. So you both had to do it whether you liked it or not.

Anyway you begrudgingly both shared your information with one another and planned to meet up at your place that Friday to work on the project together.

Eventually Friday rolled around and Billy showed up late as always in his blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro.

To say Billy didn’t want to be there was an understatement. Fortunately for him you had all the information the two of you would need to put together the project.

So things went smoothly and you two talked back and forth as you worked getting to know each other.

Which was when you both found out that you shared a genuine love of cars. This definitely helped your guys acquaintanceship and made the project go by quicker.

Anyway in the end the project only took you guys 3 hours which was less than what you both expected it to take. After you guys finished Billy left your place and that Monday you guys presented to the class before you both went back to strangers.

You two stayed strangers again for 2 months until Billy had a problem with his Camaro and didn’t want someone he didn’t know touching his baby so instead of taking it to a mechanic and knowing you worked on cars, he showed up at your house asking for you to look at.

You were of course surprised by this visit and even more surprised when he asked you to take a look at his Camaro. You of course agreed and took a look. It ended up being something real easy to fix so you.

So you took off your rings and handed them to Billy for safe keeping. As you bent over the Camaro fixing the problem.

Billy quietly watched you from the side as you worked on the Camaro. He took note of everything about you from your height and build to your clothes and corpse paint.

As he watched you he felt something grow in his chest. Something all too familiar. Something that he frankly hated. Something he wished to ignore specifically being in this shit hole of a town.

This town wasn’t all to found of people like him. People that liked same gender. But Billy would never call himself a fag sure he liked men but he also liked women. He had no clue what he was but he knew he liked you.

Maybe it was the fact you were so openly yourself and didn’t care what others thought of you or maybe was it the way you held yourself and talked. Who knows because Billy certainly didn’t.

As you were finish up Billy realized he needed to pay you for your work somehow. He wondered if you were gay and would go out on a date with him as payment.

“You’re all set. Your baby should be working at 100% again.”

“Thanks……Um would you maybe want to go out on a date with me. It’s all on me, I just want to um pay you back for your work.”

“Sure that’s fine with me. I’m free this Saturday if that good with you.”

“Yeah that works for me.”

“Well it’s a date then.”

[struwberrii]

Hi! I love your American high school headcanons! Do you have any headcanons for the Karasuno third years hehehe

haikyuu!! at an american highschool ⋆⭒˚.⋆

thank you for the request!! hopefully u all enjoy ^.^

pt. 1, pt.2

characters: tanaka, noya, kiyoko, sugawara, daichi, asahi

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

tanaka

there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll actually show up to class

drives the most beat up busted car with no tint and no bumper

he and noya in the parking lot blasting music with the windows down

cafeteria lunch defender

probably pulled the fire alarm at some point as a joke

teachers have to tell him to pull his pants up bc he sags 😭

speaker in his bookbag

has been high in class multiple times

literally has no school supplies

does interview in the halls with his phone as a mic and is constantly getting humbled by pretty girls

somehow pulled kiyoko (everyone rips on her for dating him)

falls asleep in class and snores

bro is not graduating 😭

he and noya troll teachers

noya

uses a children’s bookbag bc he thinks it’s funny (people think he’s actually a child)

tanakas #1 meat rider

always making mildly gay comments and everyone in their friend group gets so mad at him

gym try hard

doesn’t have a car but skips in the bathroom sometimes

probably smoked one time and saw literal demons now he’s too scared to ever do it again 😭

his mom drops him off at school

another boy the girls have to hit with the “hear me out”

actually gets his work done but hardly passes

brings like whole family packs of cookies for lunch

crocs all day everyday

makes fart noises in class then blames it on other people

let’s his friends hype him up to ‘rizz’ up girls and 9/10 the girls laugh at him (poor guy lol)

kiyoko

unproblematic and everyone loves her

guys probably spread rumors about her when she rejects them but nobody believes them

you either want to be her or be with her

half ap classes

accidentally starts trends (like fashion trends)

tries to help tanaka with his work but he doesn’t ever pay attention

the only thing people criticize her for is going with tanaka 😭

quiet and keeps to herself

takes super neat notes

drives a pretty nice car and it always smells like japanese cherry blossom

always has one airpod in too

probably class buddies with suga and asahi

girls in the grades below her view her as like big sister

takes low effort instagram pictures and always ends up on the explore page with thousands of likes

suga

takes ap classes

the best and safest driver and offers everyone rides

sketches and doodles on the corners of all his assignments and notes

color coordinated notes with pastel highlighters

people think he’s gay but he just likes cute stuff

shit talks with teachers

everyone trusts him and he is very reliable

boy next door

has the cutest keychains and pins on his bag

‘takes notes’ on his ipad but actually just plays roblox

probably has a job at like a pet store or bakery

daichi

him and suga are the unexpected best friends bc they’re so different

spends all his free periods in the gym working out

has social media but never uses it

drives a truck but isn’t annoying about it

curbs #1 enemy

has really random knowledge about dumb stuff, like you could be complaining about your ankle hurting and he knows exactly how to fix it

he does not tolerate disrespect, shuts it down real quick.

plays cod during his free time

takes all regular classes but his grades never fall below 90s (As)

him suga and asahi get lunch together off campus at least 3 times a week and he always drives

working out 24/7

asahi

works at barnes and noble or a coffee shop

has a car but never drives because it makes him anxious

gets rides from suga

plays word cookies in class

smells really good and citrus y all the time

the craziest rumors go around about him, like about him being a grown man and being held back or being a criminal

nicest guy in the entire school

staff has stopped him in the halls multiple times because they thought he was a grown man and had to see his school ID 😭

always gets vending machine frappes

dresses like a youth counselor

watches movies during class

underclassman call him unc

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

my academic journey (warning: i ranted) -

so ever since i started school till about the end of 8th grade i was always a 90%+/straight A student. the kind of child my classmates & cousins would be compared too. not trying to glamorize comparison btw, i personally think that's really toxic & pressurizing. so yeah, i was a "good" quiet kid. i listened attentively in class and submitted all my homework on time. the only complain teachers had about me was that i was "too quiet" but that wasn't a real issue. i was just shy but talkative with my few friends yano. i spent the entirety of 7th grade & most of 8th grade in online classes so my habits of studying went to shit. still somehow managed 91% in my 8th grade finals. and then 9th began and it all went downhill. teachers kept saying 'next year is ur board exams, u need to study a lot, etc, etc.' so if u're not from india we basically have these major 'board exams' at the end of 10th & 12th grade. but 10th boards don't really matter all that much, teachers just make a big fuss about it. 12th boards matter, but that's also the time we give college entrance exams and that sorta matters more according to most ppl. n yeah, idk what happened but i got overwhelmed. i could no longer just do well in class and study before exams and get good marks. i felt dumb. my grades didn't see a single improvement. i honestly gave up in the middle of it all and got sick of school. and at one point, it became less burn out & more clinging to the familiarity of not doing anything. i became lazy. and i became a hypocrite. i'd always tell myself, this time i'm gonna study, this time i'm gonna score well. well that 'this time' never came. 10th grade got even worse and i scored 73% in my board exams because i barely studied at all. at the same time, my relationship with my parents has constantly been unraveling. and i saw just how much of their 'pride' was dependent on me being the kid they could show off and smile widely when others replied 'wow she's going places'. my father can't hold a single conversation with me now that doesn't go back to me being a disappointment. and now i'm the kid who has to listen to her parents compare her to others. 'be like her, your friend', they say. halfway though 11th rn and i guess what?? still no fucking improvement. but the thing is i know this is the last straw. i can feel it. i got around 64% in my first tests (pa-1) of 11th. haven't gotten mid term results yet but i'm estimating just above 50%. and the thing is it's not that i can't score well. i know my potential all too well. i know i can score such high marks. but the problem is i don't study. if i just studied a couple hours every day, i can easily manage above 80%. with constant improvement i can manage above 90% again. but i don't. and that's ending right this instant. i'm not gonna turn into an academic weapon overnight or smth ik that. but i'm gonna start slowly but surely working hard. i have big dreams, i know i can achieve them if i just put in the effort. plans have been made, all i need to do is execute them. execute my laziness. i'm gonna get better. i'm gonna prove everyone who thinks i'm never gonna do it wrong, and i'm gonna prove myself right. this comeback will be for me, my inner child. the little kid in me deserves to not wind up a washed-out failure.

academic goals! -

pa-2 - 75-80%

11th finals - 80-85%

12th pa-1 - above 90%

uni - iiser (college for pure science research, bs + ms integrated)

[maxislvt]

https://www.tumblr.com/maxislvt/718963485407576064/pervy-student-wanda-thats-constantly-bothering

oh this! her accidentally blushing her hand against your bulge or sneaking into the teachers bathrooms just to corner professor!r

warnings: smut, unspecified age gap, amab!reader

she's such a freak and a pervert, I have Thoughts about her

She isn't the slightest but shy about her feelings for you and all her friends have to suffer the consequences. I just imagine her as one of those people that call their older crushes like "blorbo" and shit like that. All her friends think she's fucking delusional 😭

wanda: they're so babygirl with their little coffee order and pastry :(

natasha: are you aware that your "babygirl" pays taxes

sam: I hope they're married with at least 3 kids

wanda: I'll be a great stepmom!

You can tell Wanda has feelings for you, but don't really say anything. You've been teaching for so long that you just accept that at least one person you teach is going to want a relationship with that's not entirely appropriate, even if it's just them wanting to be friendlier than they should.

A lot of Wanda's Deranged is from a distance at first. Maybe you caught vulgarly offering you a blowjob but it was in the middle of class and there were 50 other people in the room so you assumed she was joking around into her friends. (it was entirely directed at you)

After a while, she gets really bold and decides to be more up front. However, she's completely insane so this manifests as her "accidentally" sending you a very detailed love letter in place of a writing assignment. You're flustered as all hell but find it actually impossible to stop reading. It's so horny that you end up rock hard by the end of it.

You just email Wanda telling her to resend the proper assignment and don't mention it. Wanda can tell you've read because you can't even look at her. She takes this as you just being shy so she just keeps pressing your buttons. Her clothes get tighter, more revealing, and a lot shorter. You're ashamed to admit it catches your attention every time. Wanda comes to your office hours and you're absolutely useless because you're just a stuttering mess

Wanda can only wait so long before her perverted tendencies get to the best of her. That's exactly how you end up fucking her over your desk the first time. It's literally the last time you have any control in that relationship. You were just so pent up and frustrated — it seemed like the best solution in a weird way

Obliviously giving her what she wants doesn't make her stop. Wanda just wiggles her freaky little way into your heart and boxers but you grow to love her despite how unhinged she can be at times. Wanda does have pretty serious feelings and once you start to accept her affection it just grows. She plans out little dates and trips for when breaks start. They're a bit out of the way for secrecy sake but they're all worth it

The only exception to that secrecy whatever unhinged and deranged information she sent to her friends

wanda: ttyl, gonna take professor ___ on a date later than eat their ass

carol: I asked if you wanted to go see the new mission impossible???

Wanda takes you to an arcade for your first date together. It's technically a little creepy because you've only talked about liking videogames and stuff like that once and it was during the first class you'd ever taught Wanda in. The two of you have fun, especially you because you absolutely smoke Wanda at all the games. (the subsequent ass eating was a little passive aggressive though)

You may be older but Wanda definitely takes the lead during sex. She'll hide under your desk when you don't have a class just to edge you while you're grading papers. Wanda won't let you cum unless you've graded a certain number of assignments before her next period. It does wonders for your productivity.

Wanda wants you to call her some title of authority in bed. She's shooting for you to call her mommy but she'd settle for something like a master/mistress. You refuse to call her mommy because she's younger than you but she makes you see the error of your ways eventually. (she edges you until you give in)

Wanda loves using toys on you, especially when she's pegging you because you get so overstimulated fast. You're normally so composed and professional all the time, and she wants to be the only one to see you an absolutely mess.

She tried putting you in a cock cage once but it lasted all of one day. Surprisingly, she's the hornier one between the two of you and it just kept getting in the way of what she wanted to do to you. Wanda does occasionally threaten you with when you're being too prudish

Unrelated but Wanda accidentally graduates with a minor in whatever you teach because she kept taking your class every year 😭

[deafeninggalaxycandy]

✨️TOLKIEN BLACK HEADCANONS ✨️

trigger warning: very small, miniscule mentions of racism (its just cartman being a dick)

• Tolkien Abel Black

• He/Him

• Born on June 20th, 2003

• 6'1"

• Straight (possibly)

• Very generous with his money. His parents give him an allowance of $50 a week and he just spends it on buying lunch for him and his friends so they don’t have to eat the shitty cafeteria food. He very regularly gives his friends random gifts or cash.

• Like Butters, he's another one of those kids who gets along with pretty much everyone. He's a pretty chill guy who doesn't really worry a lot and he's easy to talk to. He's the therapist friend that everyone comes to for advice.

• Once he got older and started realizing how incredibly screwed up the majority of his classmates were, Tolkien decided to learn therapy tools and read up on self-help so he could help his friends. He originally started because he realized he didn’t know how to help Clyde with his grief over his mom. In between 5th to 7th grade he did a lot of research about how to deal with things like depression, PTSD, mental health disorders, etc. He also uses what he's learned to self-regulate his own emotions which is why he's usually calm and centered.

• Tries to avoid Cartman as much as possible. Heidi and Butters had to beg him to let Cartman in his house and he said no like 20 times before he just gave up and let him inside on the premise that he can't make any racist or antisemitic comments during his stay. Cartman, of course broke this rule a few times which led to Tolkien physically forcing him out of his house.

• Plays keyboard and piano and sings beautifully but he's embarrassed and only does it in front of Nichole.

• Tolkien was told by Clyde that "rich people smoke cigars" so he tried when he turned 16. It was so bad, he couldn’t stop coughing and started freaking out like he smoked weed.

• Wants to go into social media marketing as an adult and eventually become a CEO.

• Usually a very busy guy, he takes lot of extra-curriculars and is in the debate club, chess club, soccer team and robotics club.

• Big fan of 80s martial arts movies like The Last Dragon, the Karate Kid series, Shogun Assassin and Revenge of the Ninja. It inspired him to learn martial arts and use nun-chucks.

• He tried to learn martial arts from Red and Wendy but Red kept purposely beating the shit out of him. (Read my Red Hcs you'll know why) and Wendy had to get her off of him a few times. He eventually learned karate from Wendy and his parents sent him to a private martial arts tutor.

• Writes in calligraphy. His father taught him and that's just his default writing. He actually had to teach himself to write "sloppy" because for a while his teachers thought someone else was writing his work (because what 4th grader knows fucking calligraphy). He's also ambidextrous (can write with both hands).

• Listens to Frank Ocean, Steve Lacy, and SZA

• Tolkien is very perceptive and can easily figure people out so he already knew Kyle liked Nichole and Red liked her too. It was painfully obvious (literally) with Red, they kept beating the shit out of him for no reason and looking annoyed whenever he kissed Nichole. With Kyle, it was obvious because he kept avoiding him and Nichole in middle school and this actually hurt his feelings because Tolkien has a lot of respect for Kyle and next to Clyde saw him as somewhat of a best friend. Of course, they all talked about it later but during the time Tolkien felt a little bit betrayed and partly blamed himself.

• Interestingly enough, he has no idea that Clyde genuinely loves him. He does love Clyde too but only platonically.

• He actually did question if he was bisexual or not and he doesn’t know for sure. He knows for a fact he definitely loves Nichole and isn't attracted to men sexually but as of lately he's been finding himself become a little bit flustered when Clyde compliments him.

• Wendy only dated Tolkien because she wanted to date someone who wasn't in Stan's immediate circle but was close enough for him to recognize. Tolkien volunteered because he was just happy that a pretty girl was briefly interested in him but he eventually ended things with her because he realized she didn’t actually want him and didn't really reciprocate his affection as much as he'd like.

• Really fucking hates how everyone is either constantly filtering their words around him so they don’t come off as racist (Kind of like Stan) or they have zero awareness and/or intentionally say something racist (Cartman basically).

• Gives everyone his old clothes, phones, and shoes.

• Hangs out with Kyle and Stan pretty often when he's outside of Craig's group. They're his best friends right after Craig.

• Randomly gives money to Kenny solely out of guilt. Kenny tries to refuse it but Tolkien fucking shoves it in his hands because whenever he sees that guy show up to school in ripped up, dirty jeans he got from a dumpster and a $2 white tee shirt with 30 holes in it, he starts feeling so guilty, it goes straight to his stomach and makes his wanna vomit.

• Took fencing classes until he graduated.

• His parents tried to get him into classical music but he never saw the appeal. They blame it on his classmate's influence since most of Tolkien's friends listen to rock or pop music but he just genuinely doesn’t get the point of hearing music with no lyrics.

• Really likes pandas and 100% believes they won't hurt him if he got near one. He forgets they're like wild animals, he's been asking his parents to buy him a panda as a pet. (Discovering Kung Fu Panda made him break down into tears of joy)

• Started watching Steven Universe with Nichole and got invested in the lore too. He finds the complicated emotional themes very refreshing to see in a cartoon.

• The chess club was actually started by Tolkien and funded by Tolkien's parents, he came up with the idea because he was already really good at chess but needed some people to play him other than Craig since he kept beating him and was getting bored of winning all the time.

Again please don't call me racist for these, it was already pointed out to me that a big mentioning of racial issues in headcanons aren't exactly the best way to go so I toned it down some (go see my Nichole Hcs, I edited some of the racial things.)

That being said I LOVE TOLKIEN he's so perfect he does no wrong

literally like he's the one character where I can't find anything wrong with him, HE'S A GODSEND.

sorry if these are bad i tried so hard to make him interesting :(

my manssssssss lowkey 🤭

JIMMY IS NEXTTTTT!!!!!

[elytrafemme]

Crazy by doechii just played so you guys are going to have to deal with my shit rn (also i am bored andd feel vaguely unwell) But i genuinely have like such a fascinating online history and I cannot figure out what the craziest moment of it was. Like the literal first two mutuals i had on discord came from a lofi music livestream on youtube ? My first online friend was a youtuber in a sander sides comment section who had like 50 subscribers and would livestream on the brink of a mental breakdown like every week and i would just talk to them in the chat until they could no longer livestream bc too few subscribers. I got put into a zine by a person who lived with one of my old online friends and who i was insane about (reason i have tumblr) and also told me about fetuccine alfredo recipes when i was having -- at risk of being problematic for saying this -- like a bpd as fuck breakdown over her. I got vagued and blocked and into deep shit with a second grade teacher who wrote baby fic exclusively. One of the people who ruined my life ran a Lucifer rp blog ? Ppl have cosplayed my dsmp fanfiction i have met people irl who read it and genuinely half of the most frequent fanartists for it hate my ass now. People ahve cough syrup introjects. I have literally only been on ao3/tumblr for five years how did this even HAPPEN

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 3 - Tov’s Log

Stasya (49) vs. Noora (50) - Noora Win

————————————————————

Tov felt like shit.

Every fiber of her being felt heavy, like she was fully submerged underwater.

Her mouth was tacky and her lips were painfully dry.

She opened her eyes, still thick with sleep, to find herself propped up in her bed in her room.

The only light was from the lamp on her bedside table.

Tov tried to move, to turn her head, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.

Every minor movement made the room spin on its axis.

What… what happened…

“Ah, you’re awake.” Cassio leaned into her line of sight, a relieved smile light on their lips. Their tone was soft, almost gentle, “You fainted backstage. I came to get you as soon as I heard.”

So that’s how I got back here then.

Tov nodded slowly in understanding, and the room swam with her movement.

“Careful,” Cassio held out their hands as if to steady her, but didn’t make physical contact, “I had to give you some medication to slow down your heart rate, and a sedative to make sure you wouldn’t panic when you woke up.”

That explains the feeling like shit part.

Tov had only taken a sedative once — when she was branded. She had always been an “obedient” pet.

Cassio waited until Tov had leaned back against her pillows before they spoke again, “Himei was the one who hit the emergency button on your band. She said your episode happened at the end of the round, after…” Stasya.

She remembered now.

The near tie.

Stasya surviving the gunshot to their chest.

Their screams, calling out for their guardian.

Choking and coughing up blood.

The second shot to the head.

An act of mercy.

Then… nothing.

“Stasya didn’t deserve that.” Tov said, voice hoarse.

Cassio was quiet for a moment. Then they sighed, long and sorrowful, “No. No they didn’t.”

Silence stretched the length between them and back again.

Cassio didn’t know how to fill it.

Tov didn’t want to.

What more was there to say?

It was her turn to sigh. She closed her eyes. The fog of exhaustion still loomed overhead.

“You’ll be staying home for Round 4.” Cassio said, “We shouldn’t put any more strain on your heart.”

Tov couldn’t argue. Being forced to stay away from Alien Stage was probably for the best.

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

Even if she wanted to see Himei again before she performed, there wasn’t any guarantee that the round would go they way they hoped.

Tov made a noncommittal noise. Cassio seemed to take it as agreement.

“The sedative won’t wear off for another few hours.” They said clicking off the bedside lamp, “Try to get some sleep until then.”

The bedroom door opened and shut before Tov could respond.

Now she was alone with her thoughts, and all of the demons that came with them.

Sleep continued to allude her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Stasya.

Not just their death, but their life too.

Tov didn’t know much about them, even from back in Anakt Garden. Their class was bigger than average and they travelled in different circles.

At most they had spoken a handful of times, but whatever they discussed specifically was lost to time.

She remembered them always placing near the top of the class when it came to grades, sometimes even ahead of her.

And they were always part of the small group that loved swimming in the river when the teachers allowed them to.

It was even easier to spot Stasya after they dyed their hair purple.

Tov smiled a little at the thought.

They hadn’t known each other well, but she didn’t want to forget them.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window. The night sky was clear. The stars were calling to her again.

Maybe that was how she could remember Stasya.

Maybe giving them a constellation was another act of mercy.

Stasya… I’m sorry for your suffering.

I hope you are at peace.

————————————————————

Tov is okay! (at least physically… somewhat)

Himei caught Tov when she fainted so she didn’t get hurt.

She also knew to hit the emergency button on Tov’s medical band because Tov had a fainting incident when they were in Anakt Garden together.

Stasya belongs to @billwasnot and Himei belongs to @lookatmysillies! (Sorry for another tag so soon, I just can’t shut up about these ocs lmao)

This is the last log covering Round 3. Let’s hope I don’t have to do one for Round 4 too 😩🙏

[academicgremlinhehe]

my academic journey (warning: i ranted) -

so ever since i started school till about the end of 8th grade i was always a 90%+/straight A student. the kind of child my classmates & cousins would be compared too. not trying to glamorize comparison btw, i personally think that's really toxic & pressurizing. so yeah, i was a "good" quiet kid. i listened attentively in class and submitted all my homework on time. the only complain teachers had about me was that i was "too quiet" but that wasn't a real issue. i was just shy but talkative with my few friends yano. i spent the entirety of 7th grade & most of 8th grade in online classes so my habits of studying went to shit. still somehow managed 91% in my 8th grade finals. and then 9th began and it all went downhill. teachers kept saying 'next year is ur board exams, u need to study a lot, etc, etc.' so if u're not from india we basically have these major 'board exams' at the end of 10th & 12th grade. but 10th boards don't really matter all that much, teachers just make a big fuss about it. 12th boards matter, but that's also the time we give college entrance exams and that sorta matters more according to most ppl. n yeah, idk what happened but i got overwhelmed. i could no longer just do well in class and study before exams and get good marks. i felt dumb. my grades didn't see a single improvement. i honestly gave up in the middle of it all and got sick of school. and at one point, it became less burn out & more clinging to the familiarity of not doing anything. i became lazy. and i became a hypocrite. i'd always tell myself, this time i'm gonna study, this time i'm gonna score well. well that 'this time' never came. 10th grade got even worse and i scored 73% in my board exams because i barely studied at all. at the same time, my relationship with my parents has constantly been unraveling. and i saw just how much of their 'pride' was dependent on me being the kid they could show off and smile widely when others replied 'wow she's going places'. my father can't hold a single conversation with me now that doesn't go back to me being a disappointment. and now i'm the kid who has to listen to her parents compare her to others. 'be like her, your friend', they say. halfway though 11th rn and i guess what?? still no fucking improvement. but the thing is i know this is the last straw. i can feel it. i got around 64% in my first tests (pa-1) of 11th. haven't gotten mid term results yet but i'm estimating just above 50%. and the thing is it's not that i can't score well. i know my potential all too well. i know i can score such high marks. but the problem is i don't study. if i just studied a couple hours every day, i can easily manage above 80%. with constant improvement i can manage above 90% again. but i don't. and that's ending right this instant. i'm not gonna turn into an academic weapon overnight or smth ik that. but i'm gonna start slowly but surely working hard. i have big dreams, i know i can achieve them if i just put in the effort. plans have been made, all i need to do is execute them. execute my laziness. i'm gonna get better. i'm gonna prove everyone who thinks i'm never gonna do it wrong, and i'm gonna prove myself right. this comeback will be for me, my inner child. the little kid in me deserves to not wind up a washed-out failure.

[1997yakul]

Don't Leave Your Lunchbox in the Aisle

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Hey, you! Yeah, you! Stop there!

Na Jaemin needs a tutor before he’s booted off the basketball team and loses his chance at a scholarship. (and probably his mom's respect...) Can you help out?

You have a slightly awkward history, yet still maintain your unbearably ginormous crush? You're the perfect candidate!

☆ ☆ ☆ Sign up here! ☆ ☆ ☆

(masterlist) ☆ (nct masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: student!jaemin x tutor!gn reader

Word Count: 7,9k (one-shot)

✧ Tags: unreciprocated crush to lovers(?), angst, fluff, humor, kissing, pining, swearing, detention buddies yay, tutoring, slowburn, You Fell First! He Fell HARDER!(punches wall)

start + end date: September 21 2021 - October 6 2022

✧ Notes: this was written for my lil friend bongbong who likes a slice of the weird jaemin pie. Shes always hyping up my stuff and supporting me in my weird endeavors. Shoutout bongbong!!!!!!!

originally posted on ao3

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

There's something weirdly satisfying about the feeling of your sweated out forehead peeling off of your desk. It's sticky and kind of hot, probably due to the piles of blankets you shrugged over your shoulders in a fit hours earlier. 

It was a promise you made to your mother that brought you here, the brilliant plan to study at any moment of downtime and then take the exam when you got home from helping her at her work. It seemed sort of.. ingenious at the time..? Now, everything's kind of flipped belly up as you drag your finger in panicked circles across your trackpad. You did submit it, right? Wiping at one of your eyes in horror as you wake your laptop up, there's this white box with black text that stands front and center on the screen before you.

'Assignment is no longer available. Click 'close' to return to classroom homepage.'

"What?" You whisper to yourself, eyes fluttering to the bottom right of your screen. The time reads 1:49 AM. Your hand falls to your desk with a thump, and the blankets on your back slide off pathetically. 

This type of shock doesn't send you into a full blown panic, not yet. Tapping the 'close' button, you exhale and watch as the page reloads. Searching for the 'Midterm Exam' assignment ends up being a useless, piteous effort. It's now listed under the locked 'Past Assignments' bar.

"No. I turned it in." You lean back in your chair, shaking hair back from your face as you give yourself another moment to think. "Yeah." It's kind of a lie, you think. Maybe just speak it into existence. Falling asleep in the middle of an online test is simply not possible. Not for you at least. Not one that's worth 50% of your grade. Not one that you were sure you already finished last night after you showered. 

*

"It wasn't submitted, I'm not sure how else to tell you this."

Sometimes, things just fall apart.

"I swear I submitted it. I did it when I got home last night."

Your hybrid schedule due to the pandemic has you at a socially distanced desk for 4 hours every Tuesday and Thursday, and the masks make it hard to see if your teacher has an expression of actual sympathy or just really needs to shit. Eyes alone are not enough to piece it together, you realize. He slips this red piece of paper onto the surface of your desk before moving on to the student behind you. 

It's asking for a guardian's signature of knowledge that you failed to turn in your midterm. 

Across the room leaned up against the far wall, Na Jaemin holds his red card too. He flicks it loudly, his eyes dashing over the brim of his white sanitary mask from left and right as students pass by.

'the desks are socially distanced but students are allowed to get up and walk around and talk to their friends lollll'

Incomes a text from Chenle from the front row, glittered with emojis of zany faces and tongues. 

'stupid af' He texts again, his head swiveling to face you to see if you're checking your phone. He turns back.

'how tf did you get a red card???'

You sigh, brushing hair out of your face before texting back.

'i feel asleep before i clicked the submit button'

'bruh' Chenle replies after a short moment.

'i heard if you do a sport or like lead a club or something the principal will just like let u graduate anyway'

He texts again, tacking on an emoji of a cat smirking.

‘i’ll be fine it’s just gonna suck to get my mom to sign it but she will understand… i got the whole rest of the semester Dw dw’

Your eyes go a little blurry with sleep, sneaking a glance at Jaemin against the wall as you yawn. He's typing something rather ferociously on his phone keyboard. His hair is dyed a chestnut brown, his roots grown out an inch in black, swept forward falling over his eyes. 

*

You have been on the same bus as Jaemin since your 10th year at high school, transferring from an online school experience suddenly after a move. Growing up with close to no one you could consider a friend, Jaemin was the first person who ever caught your eye enough to call it interest. He was peak ‘public school’. He seemed friendly, charming, athletic, outgoing— he was the stop right after yours and was always running after the bus. Waving his arms as he chased it down until someone in the back would call up to the driver to tell him he missed someone. It felt like a scene from a movie, like there was no way that he was not the love interest.

Never did he ever forget to shoot the bus driver this breathless smile as he took the stairs two at a time. So hopped up on adrenaline and determination it made your head spin. In the Summer, the humid mornings with the sun already risen in the sky, dribbles of pearlescent sweat beads would slither down his temples like cobras, and in the Winter, the sky would be dark and ominous and Jaemin would board with a cherry red nose, only visible by the bus' interior lights. Every morning you watched just for that same smile, and every morning each one was more charming than the last. You watched again and again, just to dart your eyes away as soon as he finished giving his thanks to the driver.

Everything changed, whether it was the changing of the seasons or the changing of semesters, everything changed except Na Jaemin's stupidly charming smile. Your pupils would fall to your bag in your lap to twiddle your thumbs and deal with these childish feelings that boil up and bubble over like a science experiment gone wrong. 

He was so super popular because of his endless prettiness and confidence. One time he came to school in a crop top and got dress-coded. He was even seen arguing with staff in the middle of the hallway holding the wrist of another student, bickering endlessly until the staff argued back with words just a little too big for him, words that left Jaemin just a little too quiet, and then he would just smile— laugh at it. The girl with him who had tears in her eyes over their failed attempt at a protest patted at his back for them to leave. He moved on, but never gave up. He would try again in a month. He was unstoppable. He’d lose with a smile.

That's probably one of the most disappointing things about the situation of the world right now. It may sound selfish and of such the tiniest amount of importance, but the worst part of the masks and the social distancing was easily missing out on Jaemin's smile each day. No matter if he was pissed off, shocked, confused, disappointed, he would smile that beautiful smile that would make you feel like projectile vomiting glitter.

*

Somehow everything he did was interesting. Attention-worthy. Your head lifts up from its downward position, relocating to face where you last saw Jaemin, but he's missing.

There's suddenly 3 messages from Chenle.

'after school today, let's go get snacks.’

'oh wait does the red card mean detention?'

'earth to my astronaut?? helloooo'

You sigh, running your fingers along the edge of the thick paper thoughtlessly. "Ouch!" Comes shooting from your mouth, your body jolting in your seat. Your blood oozes in a thick stream from the fresh cut on your finger, instinctually, you draw it to your mouth. The rough papery material of your mask presses to your lips, and shaking your head out of the clouds helps you realize the last minute you lost to your daydreams. There's a stifled laugh from the side of the classroom, and for a moment you split to smile back at them with your usual "Yeah, I'm kind of an idiot sometimes. It's okay!" reassuring aura, but this time it's not a friendly face among your acquaintances of peers, but Huang Renjun and Jung Sungchan.

There's something so unnerving about being laughed at by students who you just have the most powerful sense of superiority complexes from. It's not like they've ever been outright mean, but with students so judicious, sometimes they don't have to be mean to feel mean. Like they must just already have everything so carefully set up for them that they have not a single care in the world. Like they're above high school and probably understand how investing in stocks works (Cool people don’t understand stocks!) and have their life planned out til 40.

The worst part is that Na Jaemin is standing there next to them. His eyes fall flat of emotion, his face is angled down at his phone, but his eyes, heavy-lidded, are staring at you. Your hand slides across your face, arm covering your mask and its fresh blood splotch, turning your head to face the window.

*

Sometimes you wonder how Jaemin can deal with so much attention. With eyes that seem to always be on him. Of course your eyes were a part of them too… something deep inside hoped he could tell you thought of him differently. It wasn’t just that one day with the crop-top, before that he would get dress-coded everyday for his shoes. He would wear Converse, black on black instead of the dress shoes all students were meant to wear. He used to be given notes to bring home every single day. It took a month or two for them to just give up on him changing for them. Some people saw it as him being stubborn, or said it had to do with how much money his parents made, but you thought it was a small type of heroism.

Detention is packed, seriously packed to the brim, students overflowing the desks and crammed into all corners of the classroom. It's definitely not following coronavirus regulations, but at this point you're less than surprised at your country's 'safety in the education system' plan. More than anything in this moment, you'd pay to get a glance at Jaemin. Wherever he may be smushed, you just knew he must've looked amazing. It felt like an insatiable addiction to just take glances at him throughout the day, like, A Little Fix Here! and A Little Fix There! With a fresh mask on, you felt like you could take on the world, like, sure, you made a fool of yourself earlier– but he probably doesn't know who you are, so it doesn't even matter!

Your phone buzzes from deep inside your bag, and you begin searching for it instinctively before the instructor at the front of the room makes some lame call-out for you to stop. A mere "Oh, shit. Yeah." slips off your tongue before you lean back up to your desk, but your head hits the underside of the hard surface. The quiet class, filled to the brim with students, all turn and stare. Your hands fly to grip at the desk you just hit your head on. Today isn't one for the books, obviously.

"You're alright." Whispers from the windowsill, and your brain shuts down.

It's Jaemin.

His hand is atop your head, petting carefully.

You don't even know how it got there, or when all of this just decided to take place, but today is now absolutely the best day ever. Totally one for the books!

"Thank you." You whisper back. It's kind of coy and cute, and you don't mean for it to come out that way, but your nerves have encumbered you from saying anything even slightly self-assured.

"Take care of yourself." He whispers again, this time, it matches your tone. Bashful. "You hurt yourself a lot nowadays." 

"Oh." Comes tumbling from your lips before you can catch it, scrambling for words to act as a proper response to what feels like flirting. Is it flirting or just genuine kindness? So he saw you earlier, is this him bullying you? Why was it so sexy though? Is it Na Jaemin or is it Eros? Aren't they sort of the same thing at this point?

His hand falters from your head, and your own darts up to smooth down any misplaced strands of hair. Jaemin swings his legs back up onto the vent before him, leaning his back against a beam between two large windows. The room is quiet besides some whispering here and there, but before Jaemin can help it, he returns to face your desk again. His legs fall over the edge of the sill again, slouched comfortably. Thighs spread like syrup over hot pancakes, his hands running down his slacks until they pause at his knees, smoothing wrinkles as he goes. He's leaned much further forward now, and his breath is calm. Warm and subtle, he blinks through dark eyelashes and asks 

"Why are you so nervous?" 

Probably the worst thing to ask someone who is nervous. He continues, "Is this your first time in detention?"

You exhale deeply, there's not even an effort in trying to conceal it. It's like a boulder has just been heaved off of your chest. He isn’t flirting, he’s just being nice. "I should've guessed. You have big eyes that look to explore, but you're keeping to yourself." 

Interesting. Almost poetic.

"Would you rather me talk to you?" You ask, suddenly feeling a chill up your neck. When were your eyes ever considered big?

"No." He answers, soft and serious before his eyes squint in laughter.

Short puffs of contentedness leave your nose in muffled exhales. Everything feels so right at this moment. "Same here." 

"Too bad." He whispers, this time, the hair that has feathered over your ear brushes against your cheek when his breath reaches you. It smells like coconut and spearmint, he chews gum behind his mask, which is obviously outlawed. You know he’s a rule breaker, but now he’s breaking rules around you… it’s sexier. He's flattening himself out even more now, practically folding to reach his arms to cross over themselves on your desk, head falling atop of them. "Have we met before?" He blinks up at you, kittenish and cute.

Internally, you are scolding your heart like a dog that jumps too much. Down boy! Calm yourself! But the ba-boom, ba-boom grows stronger, louder, and Jaemin is just getting closer, and closer. "I don't remember. I don't think." 

"You don't think?" Jaemin repeats, his beaming smile lights up his face, although he's got a mask on to cover the best part, it reaches his eyes easily. Somehow it comes with great beauty and delivers great anxiety. "We're on the same bus. You don't recognize me?"

"Oh!" You beam back with overzealous surprise, you big fat fibber. "You're on bus 127 too?" You nod, his Converse with the tears in the canvas nudging against your shoes. 

"Yeah. I thought we made eye contact a few times. I guess my face is more forgettable than I thought. Darn." At this point, his fingers are tracing circles around scribbles on the desk. It's so painfully obvious you've been caught and he thinks it's hilarious to see you suffer so immensely. He knows you've been watching him all this time, it's humiliating.

Something inside, lost in the depths of repressed feelings, clicks in that moment. Like, is this it? Are you just another privileged stupid asshole that has fun messing with people who fall for your amazing face? "Dumbass." You gasp, hand flying up to your masked face, eyebrows darting up on your forehead. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"Dumbass." Jaemin repeats with a scoff and a laugh. "I'm not a dumbass! You're the dumbass. I'm not blind, you look at me all the time!" He's whisper-shouting and some people are starting to glance over in your general direction. "Why would you possibly stare at a person so much? Because you have a crush."

"I do not have a crush, Jaemin. You wish." 

"So you do know me?" He leans back up against the window sill again, his right shoulder resting on the support beam. 

The teacher up front smacked the yardstick on the chalkboard twice, dismissing students in a matter of seconds. Jaemin is quick, his foot slamming a strap of your backpack on the floor. You look up, one hand around the free backpack strap, the other pressing down on your desk. You glare at him for a second. "Do you know my name?"

"Y/N." 

There's this slow motion moment of silence where you realize, "Wait, you know me?" 

"Since the first day back to school. Where you sat in my seat on the bus with your hair all sweated to your forehead and your lunchbox in the aisle." You stare up at him, maybe two or three inches below. Why is blinking suddenly impossible? "You had the baseball cap you used to wear, the red one." He motions a hand to the left side of your forehead, mimicking the brim of the cap. The classroom is empty, your knuckles whitening at the tautness of the pull on your backpack. "Let go for a minute." He asks, and it feels very genuine, so you do.

"I have to go home and study, like now. If I fail this class I'm done for." You push in your desk chair and look back up at Jaemin. "I would really appreciate my bag now." You lay your hands out flat, palm up. Somehow there's tears swelling in your eyes, and if you cry right now, that'll be super embarrassing. So you close your eyes to hold them back.

It's quiet for a second until two footsteps place Jaemin behind you. His hand envelopes a shoulder as he drags a strap over each one. It's scary how careful he is.

"There." He whispers, it's very quiet. "I'm sorry." He says, so quiet it's like he wants to not be heard. 

"Sorry." You return, opening your eyes again. The window shines in the brightest sunshine you've seen for a while, you blink a few times and wipe away wetness before turning around. He stands lanky and still, head hanging mysteriously low in shame. "Don't feel bad, sorry I didn't react like how you're used to." 

"I'm not used to any response at all, that was my first… statement."

"Confession?" You correct, and watch as his eyes trail back and forth between the tiles on the floor. His hands fiddle at his sides, fingers touching each other all over. You take quick steps and wrap your arms wide around him, feeling the back of his neck in one slide of your palm, his hands reaching back out just a second too late. "Bye." You mumble, prancing itty bitty steps out of the classroom before full-on sprinting down the hall. 

*

'youre so weird Wtffffff why didn't you like be normal omhgh y/n'

'i don't know it was so awkward i wish i was never born'

'but u hugged him AAA'

'it was so bad please i like ran away afterwards it felt like kindergarten'

'its okay dw you can try talking to him more tmrw!'

'i have to focus on school now tho? like what are the fucking odds that the minute i actually am being forced to do better in school is the minute the loml confesses to like, being interested in me…'

'fail the class, join a club. trust me.

HOLY SHIT Y/N, TWO IN ONE. JOIN THE BASKETBALL TEAM!!!

I kind of wanted to join too… and ur like kinda tall… i believe in u'

’chenle i dont like sports and there is nothing in the world that could convince me to join.’

'just do it trust me jaemin is the only good one so even if ur bad u will blend in… plus maybe u can be like omg Jaemin how do i dribble omg i only know how to dribble drool down my jaw staring at u mwahmwah and then he'll be like Oh same let's make out'

‘chenle.'

'hehehehe'

*

The bus ride is quiet, some gentle stirring every once in a while from the few seats behind you, but your heartbeat is all that you can focus on. The ride is suddenly so much longer than you're used to… every turn the bus makes in the direction of Jaemin's stop is a step closer to imminent doom. 

Today is no different from the rest, Jaemin is caught waving the bus down with swinging arms and curved eyes, boarding with a bow before making his way down the aisle. It clicks quite quickly where he is planning to sit. Normally he gets on, takes a few wide steps, and plops himself in one of the first few seats. His eyes find yours almost instantaneously upon boarding, his palms smacking the corners of each seat as he passes them.

"No, no, no, no, no" you find slipping out from under your breath as he nears your seat until he's shoving you in the direction of the window with a giggle.

"Hey, buddy~" Jaemin sings out, smiling dangerously through his mask. His legs spread out wide and his black converse position themselves in opposite diagonals, creating an obtuse angle. Feels like you're back in Trigonometry. Your eyes zig-zag between the seat in front of you and the window out to your right. Ruffling the front of your hair a little, you adjust yourself to face him, just slightly. "There you are." He whispers, his eyebrows smoothing out after a quick bounce. 

Your heart takes precaution.

"I was worried you might ignore me, actually."

You hum a little note. "I'm surprised you're not ignoring me. I thought you might've been embarrassed."

Jaemin contorts his face slightly, tilting his head to the side, leaning until it falls against the seat in front of you. "Embarrassed? Why? What happened? I'm sitting here because this is my seat. This is the first time we are speaking." He holds out his hand, offering it. “My name is Jaemin.” His other hand traces shapes into his right thigh, maybe it's a nervous habit.

"Oh?" You catch on quickly, "Nice to meet you, Jaemin." The bus slows into a full stop to pick up a few more students, they take wide-legged steps down the aisle. The boy in the seat next to you disconnects eye contact for the first time since he boarded.

Each small pothole in the pavement rattles the bus gently, but Jaemin turns the small tremors into earthquakes, making sure to knock knees and shoulders at every small jostle, side-eyeing your reaction at each touch. There used to be something so terrifying about thinking of talking to Na Jaemin, like he would be too cool, or just think you were boring… but it's so different now that it's been put into action. He's cheesy, and embarrassing when it comes to showing public affection. This bus-ride twice a week leads to many 'Scandalous Public Transport Assignations,' as Jaemin labeled them. Smiley, tossing winks and sometimes a Brownie Bite from his lunchbox. The 30 minute bus ride would feel like 2 minutes next to him. 

*

“Today, you should come with me to basketball practice.” Jaemin is downing his half of the blueberry muffin you provided him with, speaking with full cheeks. “You can meet the other guys, and…” He brushes crumbs off of his lap. “I want them to meet you.”

“Wow, that’s forward.” You look over to Jaemin, who swallows the rest of his muffin with a loud gulp.

“Too forward? Aren’t we dating?”

“DATING?!” You yell out in shock, which causes multiple heads to turn and face your direction. You pass shy smiles and apologize softly to some people near you, sinking further into your seat. Brushing a strand of hair back with your pinky, you bite at your cheek, trying to think of the right words. Jaemin is sitting next to you, shoulders tense. “Okay, sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Patting him uncomfortably on the shoulder seems to do the trick! That is, if the desired outcome was for Jaemin to appear extremely embarrassed. “I don’t remember ever… agreeing to that.” You smile, and Jaemin’s shoulders drop significantly. 

“But we sit next to each other on the bus every single day.” He mimics a friendly wave, “And we wave to each other like this in the hallway!” Jaemin shuffles through his bag until he finds his milk carton. “And we give each other gifts.” His eyes blink rapidly, remembering something. “And you already hugged me.”

Your ears sting with hotness. “Okay, but those are things friends do too. We haven’t even been on a date, or ki...ssed.” Somehow it's hard to even say the word in front of him. Both sets of eyes fall to the floor of the bus. “I know we got close fast, but… If I’m going to date someone, even if it’s someone I’ve liked for a while… I still have standards.” Jaemin looks up and nods suddenly with determination. He brings his empty hand up from his side and offers his pinky.

“Promise me if I do those things, I can tell people I’m dating you.” 

Wow. It’s kind of baffling. He’s uncontrollably cheesy and really bad at stuff like this. Maybe romcoms have set your expectations for high school boys a little bit too high. 

“Okay. I pinky promise.”

“Stamp it.” Jaemin commands. “Sign it.”

“Copy it.”

“So dramatic…” You push his hand back into his lap and fold your fingers together. 

Jaemin is smiling.

*

Two weeks later, Jaemin frantically texts you 13 times in less than 30 seconds.

‘hhey y/n’

‘this isvery important’

‘Respondpls’

‘My mom saidtaking my phoneaway’

‘Bc failing english and’

‘Help’

‘y/n my bus buddy’

‘PLSSS’

‘M also fail math n scienc’

‘I have an iddddea’

‘REPSOND MYABY’

‘LIFE OR DEATH’

‘CALL 119’

‘WHAT????’

‘JUST CALL ME…!!?’

And so the phone rings.

“Hi, my baby. Here’s the thing, I have this great idea. And it will work. Because my mom doesn’t know about you-”

(Why doesn’t his mom know about you? Your whole family already knows about Jaemin! This is embarrassing. I mean, you have only been talking for 3 weeks, and you did say you wanted to take things slow, so why is Jaemin the one who’s treating this like one big-)

“Agree? It’s a good idea right? Then we can spend time together! Infinite dates!” Jaemin finishes, his breath pouring into the phone in loud intervals as he wraps up his speech. Unfortunately, very little was heard or understood, so a simple- “Of course! Let’s do it!” suffices to make Jaemin happy. 

The only downside is you’re completely unsure of what you have just signed yourself up for.

* It only takes 4 seconds with Jaemin’s mother to greet you with: “So you must be my son’s tutor!” to get you up to speed.

“Yes, Miss Na. Here to help with the classes he’s struggling in.” You beam, realizing you are ill-equipped, hands empty besides your special green pen with sparkly ink. “And, um, Jaemin said I should just bring myself- since he has his textbooks with him!” Scratching at your left shoulder, you hope she doesn't notice the bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

“Of course, of course. Well, come in, might I add- you are just as cute as a button! I set out some mango for you. You’ll be okay at the dining room table, I presume?” 

“Gosh!” (You haven’t heard that exclamation come out of your mouth in ages.) “Thank you so much, and yes, that’s perfect.” Peering past Jaemin’s mom as you step inside, slipping your shoes off, you notice that his house is much different from yours. The ceilings are very low, wallpaper is seen peeling at the seams, and the floor is scuffed where you stand. Although clean, this house is struggling. Jaemin is at the table, his feet curled up onto a dining chair, making the hole in his sock visible. 

“Now, do you have a running rate for your services? I know it looks like we don’t have the most money, but I work long hours and will be able to afford what you deserve. His education is everything to me.” Your heart breaks slightly, and you shake your head side to side. 

“This is just volunteer work for the school’s Honor Society, don’t worry.” You make your way to Jaemin, who’s smiling at you from his seat. “The most I might need is… a signature? To mark off my hours...? If that’s okay.”

His mom’s eyebrows bounce in amazement. “Jaemin told me it might cost a bit, so I was really prepared! Please, if you need anything, let me know. Thank you so much. I have a shift in about 20 minutes, so I need to be on my way. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She lets her palm slide down your arm and kisses Jaemin on top of his head, and then she’s gone. 

The door slams and you turn your head to Jaemin with fire burning in your eyes. “You were going to have her pay me?! What is wrong with you?” 

“You are seriously going to tutor me, why wouldn’t she pay you? I wanted to be fair.” He rolls his eyes and lets his head fall back against his neck. 

“But you’re-” your eyes scan the entryway and dining room, fist balling.

“Yes, we are not rich.” He sits up properly in his chair. “Doesn’t mean we just get out of paying for things that you are meant to pay for.” He shimmies in his chair. “We aren’t slimy, and don’t think my mom only took your offer because she was excited to get out of paying. She believed you. That’s why she took it.” His palms fall flat on the table as he hoists himself up.

“I don’t think that!” You argue, “Don’t say that. I don’t think like that. Learn to trust a little, Jaem. I’m your friend, I didn’t want to be paid because I’m your friend. She works hard and doesn’t deserve to have to deal with you failing all your classes because you think not trying is cool.” 

“I think trying is not cool? Are you serious? Is that the person you think I am?” Jaemin’s face gets bright red at that one. 

You stutter slightly at the sight of him angry. “I didn’t mean that. I just said it, I don’t know why.” He laughs like he’s really hurt, like he’s so baffled he ran out of viable words. You don’t think you want to be here anymore. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s study some English, then.” He sighs out.

You quickly learn that Jaemin is not the type to say something impulsively. That doesn’t mean he won’t crack a joke that objectively sucks or make a funny noise when he realizes he’s been quiet for too long; but rather that when he means to speak seriously, he will think it through thoroughly beforehand. He chooses his words carefully, even if they don’t sound carefully chosen, (his vernacular kind of lacks…) He just wants to be understood in a way where whatever he is expressing is exactly how he wants to express it. This is a great talent, one that you most definitely do not possess. 

You’re in the middle of analyzing a poem when Jaemin interrupts you. “I do try. I try really, really hard.”

“I know.” You say, quietly.

“No, you don’t. Because what you said earlier must’ve had some truth to it. At least from your perspective. Now, I want to explain my perspective.” He looks up to your eyes without ever moving his head. His eyebrows furrow harshly as he thinks, and then lifts his head. For the first time in your life with Jaemin, this is the first time he’s looked so serious, the first time he hasn’t been smiling. “You are one of the only people on this Earth; besides my mom, that I actually want to make proud.” He fiddles with his pencil before letting it fall to his notebook page. “Everyone works at a different pace, you know? I work slightly slower, and that doesn’t mean I’m not trying- it doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It just means that I need more time to figure this shit out.” He shrugs in his zip-up hoodie, feeling the end of its sleeve between his fingers. “Who knows, maybe my end product— whether it’s a math equation or an essay, is better written, easier to understand, is...” He displays his palms in a ‘you get it’ manner. “There are a lot of students who struggle the same as me. We all try. It’s just different for us— learning is different. Please don’t just assume I don’t try because I don’t do well.”

Your eyes trace along the lines of his face for a moment before looking down at the sentences on the book below you. “I understand. I’m sorry. I hated how I said that so carelessly. I-I am proud of you. I am proud of you for many reasons. I want you to be proud of me too.” There’s a little silence afterwards, just so he can think about everything, process it. He whispers a “Thank you” and you complete one more problem before he’s back to spacing his eyes around the expanse of the room. It takes a minute or two until Jaemin is back to smiling, but the pain of worry stings his eyes, obviously feeling more than he wanted to let on. He opens his mouth a few times to speak before shutting it with a shake of his head. It hurts your heart more than you expect it to. “I’m only worried if I lose my position on the basketball team…” He stutters for a second, motioning with his hands. Looking away for a moment with his palm over his mouth. “I don’t want to lose this thing I love, and I don’t want to let down my team, and I don’t want to… to lose potential scholarships or let down you or my mom.” He forces this extremely weak smile and twirls a pencil nervously. “So… I’ve got to give it my all.” You lean back in your seat, and watch him come to terms with the feelings he's realizing that have suddenly begun to overwhelm him. “I’m gonna tutor the shit out of you.” His eyes dart up to you, scanning over your face before a smile tugs across his lips. This one is real, like he believes you. His head drops back to the paper on the table before him. “Don’t worry. You’re not losing anything or letting anyone down.” You tap your pen onto the next essay question in his homework, “I won’t let you.”

Jaemin leans over the table far enough that his butt leaves his seat so he can wrap his arms around your neck and rest his chin on your head. It lasts for a moment, then he pulls back, scoots himself in, and picks back up his pencil.

*

That Thursday, Jaemin and you stay after school. He has basketball practice, and asks you to wait in the gym as he goes into the locker room to change. They don’t wear masks, you guess because it could be hard to play with them on. There’s already a few guys dribbling a ball around and chatting while they wait, their shoes squeaking intermittently. “How do you know Jaemin?” One of them asks, you don’t recognize them from any of your classes, but Sungchan stands slightly behind him, ajar, watching his teammate interact with you.

“Same bus, actually.” You throw a thumb behind your shoulder as if you’re pointing to the bus lanes. They’re actually in the complete opposite direction. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He starts making his way over to you. “Oh cool. He’s one of the best players we've got.” He nods, beckoning for Sungchan to come join the both of you. “This is Sungchan, and I’m Jeno.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” Your shoulders instinctively broaden, like some intimidated wild animal. They’re taller than you. Jeno… not by a lot, but Sungchan has quite a few inches on you. Jeno says some stupid thing under his breath, something like… ”Rad,” “Epic,” or  “Chilllll.”

Explosive laughter echoes from behind you, and Jaemin is jogging up in athletic shorts and a jersey. “So awkward, Jeno.”

Jeno’s face flushes, he smiles, spinning around in an embarrassed circle, flourishing with the ball between his fingers. “Trying to welcome your newbie, leave me alone!” He bounces off towards the basketball hoop with big bounding leaps.

Sungchan gives a weak smile. “Nice to meet you.” You nod back, if anything he seems more shy than intimidating now. Jaemin pats your shoulder, poking a finger into your lower back to get you to start moving forward with him. You trail behind Sungchan as a few more boys come out of the locker rooms, boisterous enough to get you to turn back to watch them trickle out. Jaemin smiles at you, craning his head over to you, blocking the view of the door. 

“I’m the cutest, trust me. Don’t bother wasting your time.” You smile back, turning forward as he pulls his hand back to his side. You believe him.

*

Jaemin texts you a picture of him with the rest of the basketball team, each one of them cheesing so hard that their eyes are all swallowed up. They surround their coach who in turn, holds Jaemin up on his shoulders. Jaemin has his fingers gripped tightly around a small trophy. You have to pinch and zoom in pretty far to even see the little gold award. Nonetheless, all of the boys look ecstatic.

‘Yessss!!!!!’ you text, littering the chat with confetti poppers and balloons.

He responds with a close up picture of him pouting his lips. ‘Where do you want it?’

You pull up your blankets out from under you, nuzzling your cheek into your comforter. ‘butt’. You type out, searching frantically for a gif after the read receipt pops up.

‘Your wish is my command.’ He responds, signing off the text with an emoji of a peach followed by one of a kiss. You smile big.

*

Jaemin is the same as always at school, only sometimes he glances over at you, mid-conversation with a friend and nods a slight smile, even across the entire room you never miss it. It’s low effort, but it feels like the best thing in the world. It makes you think to those bus rides where you didn’t know him at all, and how each season he looked more boyish than the rest, floppy and carefree and completely exasperated by his sprint to the bus doors. It was flashing shades of red and white and you wonder what he looks like now. You think to yourself how lucky you feel now. You don’t look away when he boards, or shy away behind the person’s head in front of you. He looks for your eyes and locks into them before you have time to pull your backpack into your lap. He’s calmed down now, like he understands you better and isn’t just being loud to cover up hidden worries. He squeezes up close and leans his head on your shoulder, he’ll lay his head down on your lap, and he will grab and hold your hand like it’s everything he will ever know. The red glow of the interior bus lights slide over the side of his face like a painting and he whispers homework answers like love poems. He’s easy, like it was always meant to be this way. You wonder how you ever lived without him.

*

It’s nearing the end of the semester now and tutoring Jaemin has been enlightening. His mind is beautiful and he never fails to surprise you with his specially hidden sensitive brilliance. It's dark when you finish up Jaemin's English packet and his mom arrives home with a noodle dish in a plastic to-go box. She sets it on the table and pushes it between the two of you. "I just ate some on the bus home, so I'm full. You two can share if you'd like. Again, Y/N, thank you so much for your kindness. I can sign now, then I'm off to the shower." She smiles. Jaemin gives a side glance that just screams 'She's never that nice to me!' And you can only reassure her that it's no issue, and Jaemin is a determined, creative learner. His ears blush with a saturated pink when his gaze shifts from his mom to you. His mom signs off on your paper and shuffles into a dark hallway behind the both of you.

"No way you actually believe that…" He fiddles with his warm ear between his index finger and thumb. 

"Of course. You go after what you want." 

Jaemin laughs and his hand falls into his lap. "Right, just very very slowly." You're packing up your textbook as you shoot him a smile.

"And? You said it. Different paces, it's alright. You have such a fun way of going about answering things. You can see in your work that you see the world differently from everyone else. You see it with hope.” You pluck the pencil from Jaemin’s loose fingers and tuck it into your pencil case with a smile. “You're smart."

His eyes light up. "Wow, no one has ever said that to me before. I could kiss you right now."

"But… should you?"

"Should I not?" Jaemin has this smile that glides across his face and eyes blink slowly, like a cat showing its affection.

“You can, if you’d like.”

Jaemin laughs sharply, rocking back in his seat with his palms pressed firm against the edge of the table. His smile falters into a downturned expression of focus. “No, because— I’ve dreamed of this…” He stands out of his seat, turns around and paces a few times across the dining room and through the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, standing up to watch him. “Jaemin.” You place your pencil case on the table, folding your arms as he continues pacing.

“Wait, I can’t do it now. Give me like, 5 minutes.” He pauses, turns, faces you, and points. “I need to get you by surprise.” Then continues walking back and forth.

“I don’t want to be kissed by surprise, I want our first kiss to be…” You motion with wide swinging arms. “Like, kind and…” Your hands cup and cradle the air.

Jaemin stares, nods slightly like he’s factoring in a few different possibilities and outcomes, and then returns back to his seat. You stare down at him for a second, and his eyes flicker up to you for a moment before returning to his homework. He spins a pencil around and between his fingers.

“I want to like… make out.” You say softly, watching him from above. He stops pacing for a second, processes, then continues. “I want to… touch you all over.” Your stomach turns harshly, and Jaemin freezes again, his body still. “I want to have—”

“Y/N! You’re still here. You’re usually on your way home by now, aren’t you?” Her voice is slightly stern, your eyes bulge and flicker between Jaemin and his mom. Neither of you dare to move. Your logic is: Maybe if you’re super still, she will forget the last 10 seconds.

It does not work.

She clears her throat, and you see her hair wrapped in a towel, pajama-clad figure just in the corner of your peripheral vision. You think you might pee yourself out of fear. “Need anything else signed? A ride home?” You can only shake your head slowly before turning and swiping a few papers into your backpack, gathering it up and walking to the door without ever glancing back at Jaemin. 

“We’re dating. I’m their boyfriend.” He spits out, Jaemin’s voice makes your head whip around, and your eyes skip back and forth between Jaemin and his mom. Your heart is beating out through your ears. “We were going to kissssss...” His words fizzle out and his eyes shift between his mom and you as you attempt your daring escape. He points down at the table, finger pressing into a notebook. “Go.” He whispers, and you both sprint out the door.

The moonlight cuts through the trees as you walk down the street. Jaemin doesn’t usually walk you home, but since the sun has been setting earlier and it’s getting colder, he has been occasionally joining you. He hooks your elbows like a barrel of monkeys. 

Jaemin laughs so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “I thought she was going to actually strangle you, throw your body across the room like a doll.” You lean forward and back again as you laugh, Jaemin steps heavy with tireless energy and silent laughter casts over the street.

“We’re-dating-I’m-their-boyfriend.” You mock him, and he shoves you with a shoulder off the curb. You try to catch yourself, pulling your hands out of your pockets a second too late. Jaemin grabs your arm and pulls you back to him, shouting apologies up until you can steady yourself. “You’re so cute,” you whisper. He pulls you into his chest and you lock eyes for a moment, it’s almost romantic before you stick your pinky in his ear. At this point, you’re sure you’ll keep sabotaging yourself out of this excitement until you’re both 80. It makes his shoulders jump and his neck go limp, his arms noodling and recoiling away from your touch. You both laugh until you make eye contact again.

“I like you. I really do. A lot.” He gushes, his fingers sliding their way up your sides to pull out your ears.

“I like you when you’re ugly.” He pushes your nose up, snorting like a pig. “I like you when you’re beautiful.” He lets his fingers trace down your neck, kissing you twice, chastely on your jaw. “I liked you when you took my seat on the bus.” He folds a hand around your wrist. “And I liked you when you left your lunchbox in the aisle.” He kisses again, another time on your cheek.

“But I like you the most, the absolute most…” He kisses your bottom lip, giggling as he moves his way up, angling himself with a slight bend to his knee “…when you like me too.”

☆

(masterlist) ☆ (nct masterlist)

[intothecometverse]

in honor of february ending, here's what i manifested this month!

🐬 this one time i was practicing a bit later than usual and i was like FUCK ION WANNA EAT DINNER AND THEN GO TO ORCHESTRA REHEARSAL WITHIN HALF AN HOUR THAT'S NOT ENOUGH TIME and then i got an email for the rehearsal schedule and i got at least half an hour more than usual until i had to come. funny enough i was thinking to myself like plz don't make me come until later plz plz plz plz plz plz and then i got the email for the rehearsal schedule so yippe

🐬 going on to that i had to fucking take a shit and ended up arriving to the rehearsal room ON THE DOT (which is late for orchestra standards 💔) but luckily there were still ppl waiting outside while the conductor was dealing with the basses and cellos only (which was the reason why ppl who weren't basses and cellows didn't have to come until half an hour later) so i wasn't late woo! and on my walk there (i was speed walking lol) i was affirming to myself i'm not gonna be late im not gonna be late there are still gon' be ppl waiting outside then boom that happened??? like im god hello??

🐬 having dinner + getting to go on a mini walk with my goth sp (i asked them and they said yes)

🐬 also manifesting conversations with my goth sp just by thinking about experiencing it seconds beforehand

🐬 oh ja and i also manifested being released early from orchestra rehearsals thru just thinking abt it seconds before too 😭😭

🐬 manifested seeing another sp during my regular day activities (their dorm room is around the corner from mine so we see each other a lot xD) like whenever i think abt them boom they pop up 😭. manifesting interactions next 𓆩♡𓆪

🐬 (me personally i think this was my most putting-my-foot-down manifesting moment) i overate one time and felt like throwing up, like i was feeling ALL the symptoms i usually do before i throw up so i was like "I'm not gonna throw up im not gonna throw up, remember who's in control. I AM in control, nothing else! the 3d will conform, because i said so, IT'S GOING TO CONFORM, NOW" and then i felt fine, just like that :D

🐬 not needing to get out of bed and take a piss one night when i was rly tired (affirmed "i don't need to piss" until i fell asleep 😭)

🐬 my room being opened one night when i got locked out at like 1/2 am

🐬 my grade in jazz history being raised from a D to a B- (and hopefully an A by the end of the quarter)

🐬 also i have all As in all my other classes

🐬 getting to have a fun hangout before February ended lol

🐬 having friends my age who live in dorms near me xD

🐬 my eczema getting healed without special ointment or anything

🐬 birf control (technically manifested it way back in December bc that was when i got a confirmed appointment but wtv. i got the implant this month so xD)

🐬 clearer skin

🐬 i have super long hair and the ends didn't dry out (technically this is like a continuous manifestation but i just wanted to mention it. basically I've been affirming "the ends of my hair is immune to split ends and drying out as it gets longer" and it worked!)

🐬 being better at trumpet :D (i told my trumpet teacher how much i practiced during one lesson, and continued to play during our lesson even when i surpassed my usual amount of time playing during an average day and he said I've gotten stronger due to playing for so long yet still sounding relatively fresh. and recently I've kept playing for longer amounts of time during the day and I've still been fine so yippe

what i'm looking for manifesting-wise in march:

🦞 shifting lmao

🦞 being successful in my job

🦞 being successful in all areas of life actually

🦞 getting to hang out with both sps + them getting along as friends so we could be a whole trio :3

🦞 my sps texting me first along with me texting them first (like yk how they say it should be like a 50/50 thing with who starts the convos and shit)

🦞 supernatural shit like powers, wings, horns, and like those king sombra kinda smoky eyes

🦞 WORLD. PEACE.

hope this inspired you, and remember, anything is possible, and u are loved!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[david-goldrock]

I am thinking about them again, so let me tell you the story of Ayala

Ayala is not their name, obviously, none of them names in the story are true.

We met in the 4th grade. I just moved towns and went to this new school, but she wasn't in it. She was at the gifted kid institute. Once every week, they'd pull us out of the school system to let us into a world of happiness, challenge, and understanding. My best of days were from there, I have yet to have told you of the time I got high off of sugar there, but that's a story from another time, for another time.

It's the 4th grade, and I just meet the fellas, many of which I still keep in touch with.

She had glasses. she always wore the same blue hoodie, summer and all. She was always a bit cold. She had this weird bowl cut hair that never crossed her shoulders, as if she cut it the shortest she could without being an outcast. she was funny, she was brilliant, smarter than I am for sure. She beat me at math, and at riddles. She solved a Rubik's Cube while I was fiddling with the upper face. She could speak a bit of Chinese by the end of that year, I couldn't remember anything but my name, which was the same word

She was my best friend at the time. I didn't have a smartphone, so we couldn't text, only call. So we did, often. once a week, twice a week, thrice a week.

When we met, I'd hug everyone. we were still young enough so it wouldn't be weird. We were still young enough I couldn't control my strength, and would often chock my friends out. She was the only one who matched my strength. Some people appreciated the hug but wanted out, not her, her hugs lasted minutes, filling my inside.

The years went on and we grew closer. We made a religion, with goals, rituals and all. we made a plan to kill every adult in the world so only we will remain. We would make jokes, we would make games, we would recite plays, we would write poems.

6th grade. I got my smartphone.

We texted, every day, for hours. We didn't know what memes were back then, nor did we have some, but we would create jokes and tell each other. We'd challenge each other with riddles and philosophical thought experiments. We would plan actual experiments. I told her her experiments would almost certainly be illegal to perform, but she just brushed it off.

7th grade, the hottest class at the institute? gender studies. of course, it is, one day I'd perform the experiment we once designed: track the gifted kid population through a 10-year period and check how many are LGBT. in our institute it's only been 4 years, and we are already over 50%. I am one of the few cishet boys in the class, as to be expected. I challenge and ask questions, often. the class almost never advanced after the first slide, we would get caught up in discussions. the discussions didn't end at class, the WhatsApp group was fuming, always running, 19\7. The discussions didn't end at the group, She and I would chat to the late hours of the night, after the teacher couldn't handle it anymore.

She convinced me god does not exist, and that it is okay, because we had each other. It took her 30 minutes to turn me from a questioner to an atheist.

She was so smart, and so funny, and so... beautiful. She was stunning. No makeup, no fancy clothes, she didn't look like a traditional model, and my parents openly called her ugly to my face.

They could never understand, She was beautiful.

I fell in love. I didn't know it at the time, I didn't recognize the feeling, I didn't know it, but now I do. I fell in love, I fell hard.

Then 8th grade. Covid hits. my grandma dies. I don't know what happened at her side, but shit hit the bottom as well. We fell into a deep depression, both of us. There were weeks at a time I would feel nothing. We would message a lot over that time, I was really sad, she was suicidal.

At 9th grade shit hit the fan, she called me, she didn't call me often by that point, only texted, so I was ecstatic.

"hey david"

"HEY WHAT'S UP? HOW ARE YOU?"

"david can I ask you something?"

"Sure..... what is it?"

"if i'm gone, will you be okay with it?"

"WTF?! NO! WTF? WHY WOULD YOU SAY IT? NO! NOT EVEN AS A JOKE!"

"please"

"NO! AYALA! YOU ARE NOT DYING ON ME"

*hangs up*

I call her mother. It took me 15 minutes to call her, I didn't have her number, Ayala didn't give it to me, and none of my friends had it. I found it 15 minutes later in a "details" card I kept from a year before.

15 dreadful minutes

She responds, she tells me she's safe, she's with her, everything's fine, she knows she is suicidal, they are working on it, thanks for calling

A month later they tell me they are non-binary, and that their name is now Ash. I am shocked. I ask them if I could still refer to them in the female. They say that in hebrew, yes, but to use "they" in english.

Their messages get less frequent

2 months later I get a call from her mom. They tell me she tried to suicide. she took an overdose of pills, and then called the hospital on herself. She is fine, but she is put in the mental hospital for the time being. No phone contact

3 months later, I get a text. "Hi, sorry for being distant, I got my phone back, for a while. I wanted to tell you that the reason I called the ambulance is that I didn't want you to be hurt, or for my cat to be hurt"

They don't respond to any of my texts. I send them memes, and drawings, and get-well-soons. I pray for them every night. I get the occasional text, once a month roughly. "ha ha", "nice one", "use the masculine next time or this will be the last time I text". I didn't even know it bothered them

I finally changed their handle on my phone. I changed it to "Ash (male) GoodHuman". I knew their family name, of course, but it didn't matter, what mattered is that I miss the GoodHuman.

Then... a year passes, and a few months more, they haven't written a text in what seemed like forever.

"Hey david, sorry for ghosting you, It was too difficult responding, I love your texts, and I will try to text you more often"

so we continue to text. turns out, they cut their hair short. they switched to cargo pants and leather, no more blue hoodie. They wore a fedora now, and had new glasses

They had a new boyfriend.

I do not remember their name, I am afraid to go look if I'm honest. I don't like the guy, he seems way too controlling, and way too sure of himself, and way too... too dumb for them. But they were happy, and after the last couple of years, it's been good enough knowing that they were happy

They texted from his phone sometimes. he switched and talked to me sometimes.

I meant to sent her something by mail. I knew the city, but not the address, so I asked.

They told me "Oh didn't I tell you? My parents got divorced. My mom couldn't handle me being trans, my dad could. I live with him now"

They give me the address

It's so close. So absurdly close. Not in my city, but my city borders a field, and the field connects to another city. I lived on the entrance to the field, they lived on the other. Half an hour by bike.

So they invite me over, and I bike. I bike like mad, I didn't know the path, it didn't matter, I rolled through the thorns, they couldn't hurt me, we are about to meet again.

And we met, and we talked, and we watched a musical, and we played, and recited plays, and sand songs, and we riddled each other riddles, and we played philosophy, and it was suddenly like the old times came back.

I asked how was it going with the boyfriend. They told me they actually were polyamorous, and if I wanted, we could have sex right there and then, her father wasn't home.

I suddenly realized... the years have changed me. I say no.

It was getting late, so I went to take my bike and... the thorns punctured them. I didn't even think to look. I waited for their father to return to bring me home, and promised: next time in my house. They gave me an origami frog. I still have it

Their father came later. he drove me back, but by the time we got home, my mother asked where I've been.

I lied. My mother hated Ash, and still called them Ayala. I don't remember my lie, I am pretty sure she knew exactly what happened, but we never talked about that.

Stuff went well for a while, then...

We went into a gender studies discussion. It went as usual, then they said "yeah, but all men are rapists".

"I'm a man"

no comment

"Ash, I ask you to back down, this hurts me a lot"

They doubled down. I don't remember what they said. I remember I shed a tear for the first time since my grandma died and say "If you want to talk with me again, back down, if not, I will not engage again"

I assumed they'd back down in a day. In 2 tops. Every day I'd check the chat, still empty.

5 months later: "I am not backing down, but it shouldn't affect our relationship-"

I stop reading

I write some "professional speech" bs about me being able to accept an apology whenever they'd like, but I cannot continue like this, and wish them the best

This is the last message in our chat

Often I ask myself if I was too dramatic, If this was too much, If I should have accepted it for our friendship. I don't know the answer

This was a year ago. more, actually. They never came for the "next time in my house". The friends who keep in touch with both of us say they are still with the same boyfriend. they colored their hair. they are trying to pass school, but having a hard time with math.

I pray they are still okay

[cherryy-slushy]

I Will Never Fall in Love Again~ Yandere!Jason Dean

TW: Violence, cheating, abuse (alcohol related), smut?, alcohol, drugging, using (using a person for something), bad mental health. (Also I may change to personal pronouns halfway through I apologise in advance.)

Part 1!

Part 2

Enjoy!

Your an average person. You have a normal amount of friends, a bit of childhood trauma but an average life now, average looks and average grades. You’re no Heather. But, recently you started to wish more and more that you were. And here’s why.

Y/N has English first class, she was tired as any sane person would be. Your teacher was also majorly upbeat for 8:50 am on a Monday morning. What is she hopped up on?

Y/N looked over to her side. Great Christine isn’t in again. She rolled her eyes knowing this class is going to drag on because of the absence of her friend. She isn’t entirely close with Christine, but she still helps her get through English without loosing the plot.

She snapped out of her trance when she heard her name get called on the registration.

“Y/N?”

“Here”, She said in a blank tone.

“Perfect”, the teacher replied in a chirpy tone.

As she went back into a daydream she kicked back into reality when she heard a knock on the classroom door. Jesus Christ you know it’s a bad class when you find any way to not listen for one second.

She looked to the door as it opened. Through the open door came a deviously handsome boy. I’m talking a guy that would have girls swooning.

“Ah you must be Jason!”, Ms Fleming chirped. “Yep, that’s me”, he replied back, clearly trying to be polite but just sounding sarcastic. Y/N tried so hard not to snort at this.

In the corner of her eye she saw Veronica sawyer. Veronica shifted in her seat suddenly intrigued by the stranger. I turn my head to face her and roll my eyes. I don’t dislike Sawyer, she’s lovely, but it is pretty shitty that she dumped her only friend of nearly 11 years to be a part of the “popular” gang.

I face back up to where the boy and Ms Fleming we’re stood.

“Y/N, Christine isn’t in today is she?”, Ms Fleming asked. “No, she’s not”, I respond, remembering the tragic disappearance of my friend. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic but this class sucks ass. I need someone to help me through the day.

“Perfect”, she said clapping her hands together, “Jason, go take a seat down there next to Y/N. Y/N raise your hand please.”

I raise my hand a small bit but not too high. Jason starts walking down the class and plomps his bag down next to the edge of the table. I try act nonchalant even though inside I’m dying. I return to scribbling incoherent nonsense onto a refill pad.

In the corner of my eye I see him look at my face and then down to my refill pad as he cocks his eyebrow.

Shit I forgot to change the page…

The sheet I was using was a page another friend of mine and I used to pass each other notes in science class. So yes, there is a massive…willy.. on there…. A very graphic image of one too..

I quickly snap the refill pad shut and pretend to listen to Ms Pauline Fleming ranting about S.E Hintons writing. She was talking about hawkes harbour.

“Im more an outsiders guy myself”, I hear a deep yet somehow high voice whisper too me. I look over at him and see him looking up at Ms Fleming.

“You’ve read the outsiders?”, I asked with a small smile starting to appear on my face.

“Have I read the outsiders? Well duh. Who hasn’t darling?”, he replies back with a small chuckle.

“Tell me, are you more a Ponyboy or Johnny person”, I asked. You can tell a lot about someone from their favourite characters movie.

“Dally”, he replied. “May not be the answer you were looking for but it’s an answer.”

I like this guy

We spoke about the outsiders for a bit longer and before I knew it the bell rang. We both started to stuff out stuff into our bags and before either of us could say anything Veronica Sawyer swoops in.

“Hey. I’m Veronica, Veronica sawyer. What’s your name?”, she asked with a polite smile. “Greetings and salutations, Veronica, Veronica Sawyer. I’m Jason, Jason Dean. JD for short.”, he smirked back.

Oh fuck, am I gonna have my heart broken by this boy.

I started getting bored of them because let’s be honest, who would want to stand there and listen to the boy she’s already starting to have feelings for talk to one of the most beautiful girls in school who is clearly swooning for him and he is clearly swooning for her. Doesn’t seem like a very fun conversation too listen too.

As I walked out I looked back to see if he noticed I left. Nope. He didn’t. Great. I kept walking down the hall and into my next class. Today is going to drag on.

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Sudden question popped in my head: "How old is Gran Torino?"

Dude looks like he's supposed to be 80 or 90 yet he's spry even for anime fighting heavy setting old people.

Note a lot of this is gonna be riddled with a few assumptions based on character design and general character tropes as related to demeanor. The rest is applying math to known or estimated ages.

Also some minor spoilers due to some flashback sequence images used for reference but nothing major.

Now since this is anime and across many many MANY different anime and manga the original artist or artist team tend to make character visual ages weird. I joke semi-often that kids look like teenagers, teenagers look like adults, young adults look like grizzled 40/50 year olds, and anyone past that look like they're in their 90s... unless you have a character who looks like a child. There's also even odds of the "child" being just that or actually being secretly immortal or 200+ years old.

So its possible that Torino's actually younger than he seems (shit ages you and we know he went through it). It'd also play in to his little prank/joke that he's a senile old man. I know people who look older than they really are due to one reason or another (usually stress) and I know some people in my mother's side of the family tend to look younger for whatever reason. (Some of us joke about having a portrait in the attic.)

But first: All Might is like what, 50? 60? We know he has an active career that's lasted long enough to make everyone else feel like he'll always be there. We also know he got OFA, attended U.A. (and presumably graduated), and then Toshinori got shipped off to America for his safety and to put a whole ocean between him and All Might. And since Gran Torino looked very tall at that time that means that we have a fully grown adult there (adding in to that "old people shrink in the wash" height joke thing).

All Might was dressed in a middle school uniform when he first met Nana so that means he would've been between 12 and 15 when Nana was shown talking about him to Sorahiko after Kid Toshi's dream and drive won her over. Now he's TALL but that doesn't mean anything since I remember a couple boys in 4th grade towering over our teachers so he could be a very gangly one. But to make the Izuku parallels more strong we can say that the first meeting he had with Nana was when he was around 14 or 15.

But the only thing we can really know is that Torino would have to be at least 20-ish to have a pro hero license. Dude has the attitude of someone who's been around the block a bit so let's add in another 5 years for experience as that would be long enough to know the field. That said the characters we know best from canon with similar attitudes are in their early 30s or late 30s.

So that'd make him 30-something to Kid Toshi's 14.

But there's another character I can use as a benchmark for his age: Nana's son Kotaro. 32 when he died, when Tenko (at the time) was around 5-6. Tomura is 20 by canon's start, where All Might would presumably be in his 50s. Now I always assumed Kotaro was around 5 when Nana gave him up for his safety as that is generally the age when things go start to shit for characters in the setting. It'd also give Kotaro stronger memories of Nana and better awareness of who she was (a hero) and why his kids wanting to be heroes like her set him off (not that he seemed to need a reason with his apparent temper).

So if Kotaro is 32 when Tenko was 5/6, the man would have been 47 by the time Tomura appeared in canon. All Might - assuming he's in his 50s - would've met Nana when Kotaro was... well, if All Might is 59 at the series start then Kotaro would've been 3, if All Might is 55 then 7, if he's 51 then 11.

You know what? All Might at 55 sounds fair. Kotaro being 7 at that time also means the loss would've been still fairly fresh, explain a lot about how the letter was phrased, and possibly be part of why Torino was a bit leery of Nana picking a kid. All this without it being too close to her unintentionally replacing her son with another around his age.

Series Start Ages: All Might, 55. Kotaro, 45/46. Tomura, 18/19. Izuku, 14-ish/15-ish.

1-A Start ages: All Might, 56/57. Kotaro, 47. Tomura, 20. Izuku, 16.

So assuming all this... Torino could be around 72 to 77 by the time All Might first meets Izuku.

... you can see how crazy I'm making myself trying to make sense of the timeline.

[fancassticfiction]

Okay, this is going to be a rant about one thing (of many) that sucks about being a teacher as an introvert.

I'm so fucking exhausted. Like I'm so over-socialized and overstimulated that I can't take it. We had a day without students Friday, and I was genuinely so happy not to have all of the social drain.

Like imagine this...

You try to do five tasks at a time or you're trying to teach a lesson. But you keep getting interrupted.

"Miss ______, do you have an extra charger?"

"Miss ______, I was absent yesterday. What did we do?"

"What do you mean we have a quiz? Can we use our notes?"

"Miss _____, can we have a mental health day? I know we ask every day, but..."

"Why you always got us doin' something?"

"Can you grade my late work already?"

"Why the fuck do I have an 'F' in here?"

Then you try to teach or talk them through something, and you've got to redirect them what feels like 50 million times.

You try to joke with them, and they decide to misinterpret your words, so now you've got an angry parent email.

Another student blows up on you, yelling and screaming at you because they're protecting the shit they're freaking with onto you. It's scares you and the students around you, but you can't panic. You have to stay calm even though all you want to do is yell back.

You constantly get insulted and undermined. These kids challenge your every decision, ignore your every direction, and yet you can't lash out. They can insult you to your face. They definitely insult you behind your back, and you cannot react.

You go on a date, but you're so tired you barely talk.

Then you want to do something after-school and you can't because it all takes social energy you don't have.

You want to play a video game, but the idea of interacting just wears you out even more... even if it's just interaction with characters WHO DON'T EVEN EXIST!

You have guests coming to your house and you scream into a pillow in frustration because Jesus fucking Christ you just want to be alone.

You don't go to dinner or parties because what the fuck is left of you? Your social battery doesn't even have time to charge before you're back in there... acting like your not so fucking done with this.

You can't even interact with folks on social media because IT'S STILL BEING SOCIAL!

I could never be a parent and a teacher. I'd lose my fucking mind. It makes me feel like a shitty friend too. Like... fuck. I just sit in a car and disassociate for 30 minutes because it's finally fucking quiet.

You can't even really have feelings of your own. In the span of a month of a month I have gone through or will have gone through my boyfriend breaking up with me over text, my first birthday without my mawmaw, my first Thanksgiving workout her, and her twin sister's first birthday without her. But I have to keep my shit together.

I have to ignore my every need for the sake of teenagers who seem to lack any bit of empathetic connection... and for what? So I can be the villain in their little stories? So I can collapse in tears in my kitchen floor when it becomes too much?

[physalian]

Y'all ever heard of "IB"? I'll tell you my tale of woe

So we know the US education system is ass, right? The pressure to get good grades over actually learning anything is detrimental to both learning and the desire to seek knowledge and discover our world.

Well I have a little story, about this exact principle on acid. Idk if anyone on here will ever be in/or is already in something called the “International Baccalaureate” (IB) program. What it is, is an “intensely rigorous” allegedly-standardized method of schooling that’s supposed to be transferrable between countries. Like, if I went to an IB school in America, I could transfer to the equivalent education level in France and not be completely lost. That’s the point.

It's way harder than traditional high school, with zero focus on things like arts and physical education (you know, important shit) and a draconian dedication to STEM… and nothing else.

If it’s not clear, this shit did irreparable damage to my high school career, so this is a warning to anyone considering it: If you are not neurotypical and somebody who’s willing to get hospitalized over how stressed you are (which did happen to a friend of mine) maybe skip the snobbish high school? If you don’t plan on being a lawyer or a doctor, maybe skip this bullshit.

—

So, guess who did not know that they’re neurodivergent back then? Me. Somewhere in the realm of ADHD and Autism, possibly both, who knows? Either way, I’m “high functioning” and you’d never know, or so I’ve been told.

I went to this high school because I wanted to be with all my super smart friends, and bought into the classist bullshit of “traditional high school is for dumb kids” and the whole “honors program” hierarchy—in my middle school, your first year there, you were separated into four groups of students.

Group A was the dumb kids, and everybody knew it. Groups B and C were the average-intelligence kids. Group D were the “honors” kids. First day in 6th grade, you were literally handed a themed t-shirt and compared to every other kid you know and don’t know and implicitly told “you’re not as smart as these kids and we want you to know it”. I was in the B-C group, which absolutely led to “well I’m not smart enough to be in D, but at least I’m not an idiot like A”.

Super healthy shit to teach children.

You did not have classes outside of your group. It wasn’t like elementary school where honors kids split off for a few hours but were still in your class. It was a complete social schism, and you only saw these people during lunch and maybe across the yard in P.E.

Fuck that school.

So anyway, with that damage done, I wanted to go to the fancy high school with all my smart friends, applied, and got in.

When I was younger, I had a massive procrastination problem. The usual stuff, like not starting a project until the night before it was due, forging my parents’ signatures on forms they were supposed to sign as the teacher was collecting them (got super good at that, bet school wishes they hadn’t encouraged it), doing homework in homeroom the morning of, and completely forgetting about readings and such.

Not the case now, but back then it was chronic.

In regular “dumb-dumb” school, one can get away with neglecting a little work.

In IB, if you fuck up in year one, that fuckup will haunt you through your entire high school experience. Everything in IB builds on itself, so if you have a shitty foundation, you are screwed without even realizing it, and there is little fixing it.

IB is also structured irregularly compared to traditional American high school. You only have four “blocks” of classes each day, and they switch off every other day. So I’d have Day 1 on M, W, F one week, and then T R the next week, yada yada, with those blocks lasting 90 minutes. As opposed to the 50-ish minute classes with the same schedule daily.

You would think that this would make it easier, as teachers had more time per period to really dive deep into subject matter without being rushed.

You would be wrong.

IB, like with all American schools, focuses on quantity over quality. Quantity in every facet of schooling. I needed a rolling backpack so I didn’t fuck up my spine hauling around my textbooks because the school didn’t have classroom copies/you needed them every goddamn night for homework and in class. The amount of homework, frequency of tests and quizzes, all that, is increased compared to traditional school.

But my very first class, my 1:1, was Algebra 2. Reader: I am awful at algebra. I cannot learn concepts without being able to ground them in realty. Geometry always came easy to me, because you can see and touch geometry. It has practical uses and follows logic. I can use a formula to measure the volume of a box, or I can bust out the tape measure by hand and get the exact same answer.

Algebra is fictitious, it’s not grounded in the tangibility of geometry, and once we hit stuff like quadratic equations, without being able to understand why I was learning what I was learning and how this all fits in to the greater concept of mathematics and why it matters, I not only checked out, but started to feel very, very stupid.

This was my very first class.

I almost failed Algebra 2. I had gone down to a 33%, because my teacher, for this super smart and super fancy high school, taught the same way every other teacher in that godforsaken place taught: Lecture.

If you do not learn through lecture, you’re fucked at an IB school. If you cannot process and retain information simply because someone tells it to you, you’re fucked. If staring at a 70-slide powerpoint presentation is understimulating, you’re fucked.

This teacher’s personality in particular was absolutely nasty. Haughty as the rest of the school, who made jokes at the idea of returning to the “trads” and the “dumb kids” at regular high school if you dropped out, and we had several who were way smarter than me who left by day 3, who were able to understand that this was not for them, while I stuck it out for 2 years.

I brought that 33% up to a 65% and got my first ever D.

But that first class, opening day of my high school career, left an impression that I carried with me for two whole years: Out of absolute terror of being thought of as “dumb” by leaving all my friends to go to traditional high school, I chose to be the dumbest of the “smart kids” instead of the “smartest” of the “dumb” kids.

And I paid for it.

I spent two whole years completely checked out and unwilling to learn because of this one math teacher on my first day of high school. Once I figured out that this man and this institution did not give a single fuck if I passed and would not change their teaching style at all to accommodate me, I could not be bothered.

I still got decent grades, and I did have classes, like geometry and my second year of English, in which I excelled. I had teachers who cared and loved their jobs, but by and large, I spent two whole years suffering because of the social pressure to pretend to be neurotypical, to learn the “normal” way, to pretend to be the only valid definition of “smart”. I had a Spanish teacher who gave me dresscode 3 days before the end of the school year, right after I failed an oral exam, in the back of the class where everyone could hear us. The entire foreign language department of conservative bitches stared at the girls wearing shorts with far more intensity than they should have.

We had this thing for “volunteer” hours that had three groups: community service, creative hours, and one other thing I can’t remember. I do remember desperately approaching my shit guidance councilor, the sole lady responsible for the entire school’s population of IB kids, asking if I could count my builds in Minecraft as part of my creative hours because I needed a certain number of hours to pass.

She I guess heard “video game” and thought I was slacking off killing mobs, when I played the game for the builds. But “creativity” only counts if it’s what they define as “creativity”.

Every step of the way, this education program demanded more. I got humiliated by multiple teachers in front of multiple classes because I did not understand something and got so upset that I cried, and they refused to explain it in any other way except repeating what they’d already said in lecture. I lived 45 minutes away from this school by bus and my parents couldn't come pick me up or drop me off to use office hours or study groups even if I wanted to, and I sure as hell didn't have a car.

So when I left, to go back to my regional high school for my junior and senior year (after getting gaslit and guilted by my parents for “failing to uphold my commitments”) turns out, I’m not an idiot.

Suddenly, I had teachers who gave a shit. I was turning in assignments on time. I was doing my homework the night it was given. I was starting projects in the very next class. I finally got straight-As. I liked learning again.

Turns out, not every “smart” kid I knew went to IB, they were instead very successfully running my regional high school’s SGA. They were doing just fine in getting into the colleges of their dreams and pursuing STEM. They didn’t need IB one bit.

The only good thing IB gave me was that by the time I got to college, it was a breeze.

All these years later, the thing that sticks with me the most was how much of a sham the whole thing is, and this insidious caste system of perceived intelligence. My super fancy IB school was inside of a larger high school built in a rural area, and put there to make that school look smarter.

So you had this institution not only giving these rural kids an enemy to hate, but reinforcing an idea that they’re not as smart as the special IB kids. And in turn, you’re telling the IB kids “you’re better than your peers, look at how dumb they are”.

While then sacrificing absolutely everything in the name of "quality education". Arts and music, physical exercise and sports, free time outside of school now spent doing homework, free time at all to have a mental break from it, and time to go to clubs and school events. You could take those extra classes, sure, but it cost you in time you needed to do all your other non-negotiable homework. You might graduate and get into Harvard Law, but you might get there with a heart condition from stress that you'll have for the rest of your life. Is that degree worth it?

But also how narrow and antiquated this idea of intelligence and learning is. I’m someone who, by and large, does not need to study, so long as I care about the subject matter.

One time in college, I took astronomy. I love astronomy. I ditched a class once and forgot all about a big unit test we had coming up. I walked into the next class to that test, having prepared nothing, and wrote a note on the top of my test before taking it apologizing to my astronomy professor for the F I was about to get.

I got the highest score in the class (a 92 I think), having only paid attention during lecture, because I cared and I wanted to learn and was able to retain everything only from hearing it, seeing it, and writing it down once. So long as something is grounded in the context of why it matters, one lecture is usually all I need, and I am consistently the fastest test-taker I know.

But back in high school, once the “you are not supposed to be here” baked in and solidified within the first week, that was detrimental for two long and stressful years, and, guess what? I’m not friends with any of those people anymore.

I probably could have done it, but the attitude of that pretentious, bullshit program ruined it. The people who stayed all four years? Some ended up at my college anyway, they just got better scholarships.

So to anyone who’s thinking about IB or knows anyone thinking about it or who is already struggling and suffering: Unless you plan on being a doctor or a lawyer, it’s not worth it, and you aren’t “smarter” just because you can learn one very specific way. I left after two years and never went back.