I walk about 8 blocks to class cause fuck paying $55 for student parking. After class I’m gonna talk to a guy about a tattoo.. hopefully he’s not too overpriced cause his work is fucking dope. My next piece is gonna be hella big, but I want it so I’m getting it. Also, high key ready for the summer lmao I’m kinda tired of school.
The first week that is dedicated into luring into their traps dubbed 'clubs' and 'organizations' and them talking you into going to one of those cult like events for sororities and fraternities; you can't escape, they will find you
The urge to back hand annoying upper class men who are offending your eardrums without even being in their stupid conversation about how dog boobs are weird
"I WOULD LIKE TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU, WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR" starter pack. Does not include tears or awkward conversation skills.
Must. Find. The. People. Who. Give. Out. Free. Food. And. Money. Or. Maybe. Get. A. Rich. Upper. Classmen. To. Be. My. Sugar. Daddy/Mama.
The fuck do you guys mean you invested all this money into a theater and don't have a theater department? ! Well, student body government here I come.
Drugs. Frat parties and so much drinking. Then freaking out finals week when the temperature drops and freezes your nipples back into studying
Shaving your armpits and legs more often then you open your $130+ psychology books
With black painted nails and freshly inked tattoos, all they are trying tell me is that- YOU TO USE TUMBLR, FOLLOW ME. NOW.
That one hot professor who stares at you and you stare back, hoping to start something new- turns out you have dried drool in both corners of your mouth and those crust boogers in your eyes and they feel bad for you. Or think you were out partying instead of writing that 4-page-double-spaced essay over the history of the fucking United States of America
The pathetic excuse they call food in the dining hall that you can't even take food from. But everyone steals the fruit and sneaks out cookies to save money. Don't drink the milk unless you want an upset stomach that lasts a week
That one person you have sexual tension with but your not sure whether or not to engage with your first fwb in college or not. Also, this same person spilled ramen on their lap and was forced to go to the ER
Resisting the urge to call your parents and telling them you have become a stripper and have a roommate who every time they open their bedroom door- their room smells like week old hot pockets and $1 air freshener
blossoms on campus, leftover chinese food, and my monstrosity of a poverty and inequality outline..
accomplishments locked myself out of my apartment (and my roommate’s in nashville for the weekend which means i had to skip my workout and go to the housing office to get let back in lmaoo), put in some work study hours at the office, worked on the pov & ineq outline, finished a policy brief for my practicum, put away laundry, took a long ass much needed nap, cleaned the kitchen, talked on the phone with a friend from undergrad about get out and politics..
upcoming tasks all ima do tonight is chip away at this outline. IF i can get all the research done then i can start on a rough draft tomorrow, which puts me at a good place to proofread and have shit finalized before monday’s class. i’m still not really seeing an argument come together, but if i can focus on the components of the outline i have yet to fill in and not spiral down the research rabbit hole, that should help move things along.
i’m not at all one for the day of st patrique, but a friend might slide through a bit later on tonight and we might cause trouble somewhere. a tall, cold guinness would be a great way to end spring break.
So far, we’ve attempted to conquer the “standard,” first-level fuck boy; a friend with hardly any benefits; and a #SorryNotSorry boyfriend. All of these stories have had one thing in common: some sort of ongoing relationship. But what happens when he flat out refuses to continue talking to you?
The distinct smells of the campus’s main food court float around you, baking bread, frying potatoes, boiling vegetables, salty broth, and sautéd chicken among other things.
It wasn’t the best idea, waiting until after your last class to eat. Was it.
No, I’m not poking fun at you. I’m simply calling into question your choices because I can CLEARLY hear your stomach rumbling.
Thankfully, the din of dozens of conversations drown out the sounds of your protesting stomach AND the sharp breath you inhale when you see him.
“Yoongi!” his name leaves your lips with an embarrassing amount of excitement and you forcibly restrain yourself from hurdling the tables, instead haphazardly snaking around them.
At first, he doesn’t seem to notice you, attention fixed on one of his numerous friends who keeps making pitiful attempts at catching a thrown candy in his mouth. But as you get closer and call his name again, Yoongi visibly stiffens.
“Sunbae,” you skid to a stop and dip in a polite bow, bouncing back up to search his expression, purposefully using THAT word, “I thought you said you were busy after class today.”
“I AM busy.” Yoongi’s curt tone causes a couple heads to turn in your direction.
“But you said we would hang out next time you’re free and you SEEM…”
“What? Free? Well I’m not,” his dark eyes glint with irritation.
Something ugly twists in your stomach as you search for words. Thankfully, you don’t get far, “I thought-”
“Can’t you take a hint, kid? It was ONE TIME. Stop calling me, stop texting me, I don’t WANT to talk to you,” Yoongi’s voice raises in volume until ALL of his friends have turned to ogle and snigger at the conversation, only adding to the sudden avalanche of humiliation. “Get LOST.”
“Okay,” the small squeak is the only thing that can leave your dry mouth. So with the fiery sensation of about a dozen eyes drilling into the back of your skull, you flee the food court as if they had literally burned you, hunger forgotten.
The harsh chill of early winter air immediately nips at your nose, stinging your cheeks, but does nothing to numb the emotional pain.
Feet on autopilot to the parking lot, your mind is free to either to replay Yoongi’s rejection and his friends’ derisive laughter like a cruel broken record OR, probably preferably, get lost in the pleasant memories of first meeting him.
One of your older friends, a graduate student, had invited you over for a “movie-night,” assuring you that there would only be a few people, lots of snacks, and “worst case scenario” you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone if you felt uncomfortable because there would be a film to watch.
The argument that ultimately won you over, however, was her desperate plea for assistance.
She actually got down on her knees, saying, “Jinyoung is coming and you can’t leave me alone with him! What if I do something stupid?”
At first you didn’t see how you could be helpful. At all. But after a few more scrambled appeals you finally pieced together her train of thought.
“So what you’re saying is because I’m younger and won’t know anyone, keeping me company will be a great excuse to back out of anything you don’t feel comfortable doing,” you rolled your eyes, irked at the implied inferiority due to your age, but for WHATEVER reason, you agreed anyway. Such a nice doormat.
Thankfully, she hadn’t lied. The moment you arrived, you were able to pile your plate high with junk food, ignore practically everyone, and curl up on the couch. Legs tucked underneath you, body pressed as far into the cushions as possible, you attempted to make yourself scarce. Not all grad students are intimidating, snobby, and rude, but these ones definitely were. Well, at least they were feeding you?
While your friend and some of the guests debated over the movie selection, you couldn’t help but idly scan their faces, looking futilely for familiarity or even friendliness. But they all seemed to want to avoid you like the plague.
Someone entered from the kitchen and immediately, in the most ridiculously cliched way possible, your attention was drawn to him like he had your gaze on a string.
Dyed blonde hair half hidden under a black beanie framed a pale complexion, a moody expression, and a perplexingly sharp gaze, considering he looked unmistakably bored. He was wearing a red and black flannel, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, front unbuttoned to reveal a v-neck black shirt that kissed the skin just under his collar bones, and a pair of ripped black jeans. Someone clearly has a favorite color. To top it all off, he’d donned faded red converse- and despite being the only color of cloth on him that’s NOT black, it wasn’t even the same red as the flannel.
But let’s be honest, even a blind person would admit he’s attractive and there was something about his presence… an aloof cockiness that naturally, violently pulled people’s attention (namely yours) to him like gravity.
His gruff voice broke through the haze like tapping on ice, “This seat taken?”
“N-no, it’s free,” cheeks blazing, you stuttered, shifting around awkwardly, as if you needed to make room for him on the otherwise empty couch that could comfortably fit five people.
“Good,” he practically grunted, plopping down approximately in the middle of the sofa. If it had been any closer, you might have suspected he was interested in you. If it had been any further, social cues would have dictated he was definitely not. And yet there he sat. Right in the fucking middle.
Okay, yes, that last statement is me just being irritated on your behalf, but it’s not like YOU were about to set him straight.
He began to pick at the snacks on his plate absentmindedly, paying zero attention to you.
The following question flitted around in your mind like an annoying fly. If he didn’t want to talk, why ask to sit here when there were obviously other spaces available?
A greeting balanced on the edge of your tongue, but truth be told you already knew who he was. The friend who had invited you was polite enough to provide a brief description of the other prospective guests.
The last on her list had been a “Min Yoongi.”
When you asked if there was anything noteworthy about him, her only reply was, “He’s a walking trope. You’ll know him when you see him.”
If Mr. Cold Shoulder over here wasn’t the definition of “angsty young adult semi-hipster,” you would’ve just stayed quiet and minded your own business. Then again, maybe that would have been the better option because for some reason, he pulled off the stereotype perfectly and you were as vulnerable as a moth to an open flame. A bonfire sized open flame.
*Clarification: there are many types of people and obviously, some are easier to get along with or understand than others.
Step 2) Communication** is key
Talking is easy, effectively communicating is much more difficult. To get any message across, there are three components. One, you must know what you want to say. This one is relatively simple, but don’t make the mistake of being at a “loss for words.” Two, know what you want the other person to hear. Basically, what message do you want them to take away?
And lastly, but most importantly, make sure you are speaking the same “language.” I don’t mean this literally, just that it must be possible to UNDERSTAND one another.
Today, he’s decided to be gentle, probably in retribution for being so rude earlier.
Yoongi’s fingers dance at an achingly slow pace across your skin, a ballroom floor on which the couples are too caught up in the presence of each other to be attentive to the beat of the music.
You fight to keep control of your breathing, ears acutely listening for any sign that your parents have stopped watching their movie to randomly check up on you, but of course your attention falters slightly as soon as he begin toying with the hem of your skirt.
His cold digits push the material so it gathers at your hips, finger tips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You’re not entirely sure whether it’s this or the thought of his dark, licentious gaze that sends a shiver down your spine as you’re too scared to actually open your eyes and meet it directly.
Battling your own body is a difficult thing to do, but you manage to pull a shaky inhale through your nose and let it out softly between parted lips as his fingers slip past the soft cloth of your underwear.
A shudder runs through your frame as he begins an aggressively slow waltz, circling at tantalizingly delicious pace, building you higher and higher until all you can think is “fuck why isn’t he using his tongue?” before tipping over the edge, every muscle in your body clenching, falling, trembling.
Your eyelids flutter open to the emptiness of your room as you ease your ragged breathing, extracting your hand from your underwear.
I guess this takes the phrase “dancing with myself” to a whole new level, huh? Sorry, the joke was there and I just- okay back to the story.
It’s not half as pleasant as when Yoongi was ACTUALLY with you, but at this point, it’s not like you can help it.
Waddling to the bathroom due to the sensitivity, you drown the last of the evidence of your little imaginary adventure in a warm cascade of water. Once your bedroom door is safely between you and your parents again, you decide to check your phone.
Still nothing, but do you really expect more? After humiliating you earlier this afternoon, maybe you DO expect an apology, but Yoongi has NEVER been the type to text back. Ever. It’s unfair, really, that he seems so detached from what you thought was a strong connection- but maybe that’s just you being oblivious and far too trusting.
As your friend finished setting up the movie and continued mingling, you sat in relatively close (yet also far) proximity to Yoongi, physically unable to tear your gaze away from him, and a grand total of seven minutes passed before he said another word to you. These came in the form of an absolutely worth waiting for, mind blowing question, “Are you going to finish those?”
He loosely gestured to the pile of sweet cakes on your plate, which you WERE fully intending on finishing, but how could you say no to a cute guy?
“No! Do you want some?”
Well, I mean I GUESS that works.
Yoongi said nothing as he relieved you of the snacks, but he did give you an excuse to start talking to him, “So… Yoongi, right?”
Pulse thundering, you waited for a few seconds, unsure whether or not he would ask for your name. Of course, he didn’t, so you tried again, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, sunbae.”
Yes, you tacked on the honorific, hoping it would get his attention. It did.
“That’s nice,” Yoongi finally looked at you again, one of his eyebrows popping in curiosity, the corners of his lips quirking almost imperceptibly upward, and was it just me or did he get slightly closer? “Like what? There aren’t a lot of good things to say.”
For some reason, his words caused a small, pleasant tightening in your stomach.
“Well she was right. You’re kind of attractive,” you shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, lying with ease in a desperate attempt to keep his attention, because your friend had said absolutely nothing of the sort.
“Kind of?” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed in challenge, but this time I’m SURE he DID get the tiniest bit closer.
“Kind of,” you agreed, toying coyly with a lock of your hair, letting out a giggle.
He let out a displeasured hum, turning his attention back to his plate. The loss hit you squarely in the chest like Yoongi had actually punched you, and you couldn’t help but scramble to maintain the conversation.
Desperately, you reached back for the thing that originally got a reaction from him, the honorific, “Does that mean you disagree, sunbae?”
You’re still not exactly sure how, but less than fifteen minutes later, you found yourself with your back pressed against the bathroom’s cold tile floor, being pounded into sweet oblivion. The two of you spent more time going at it than you did talking, but I’m not here to judge you.
His subtle charismatic gravity must have blinded you to the usual red flags: the relatively short time since you met, the place in which he chose to do the deed, and let’s not forget the fact that he didn’t even know your name. (He probably still doesn’t).
But you KNEW what kind of silent agreement you had made when he let his hand rest casually yet suggestively on your knee. You KNEW that you were as inconsequential to him as the room in which he fucked you.
And you knew how terribly infatuated you were, but who cares about consequences, right?
**Definition: COMMUNICATION (noun)- the successful conveying or sharing of ideas and feelings
Step 3) Know when to cut your losses***
Sometimes, people ARE lost causes. By this volume, you’ve no doubt figured that out. And as a friend of mine once said, “You can’t fix a fuckboy, you can only hope that they heal from whatever wound they have in their hearts.”
You had been…unfortunate enough to receive his contact information from the friend who invited you to the movie night.
So two missed calls and fifteen unanswered, left on “read” texts later, you’re humiliated to say the least. It’s only been five days since meeting him, not even a full WEEK, and you’re already a mess.
Couldn’t he at least have the decency to let you down in person? Oh wait, he DID do that.
A sad tingle runs from your heart to your fingertips- well less of a tingle and more of a numbness and your feet seem heavier than normal as you traverse the length of the campus, emotionally exhausted and simply ready to go home. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to avoid-
Your eyes lock on his familiar figure instantly.
Life can’t even keep its foot out of your ass for a single DAY?
Yoongi is sitting with his friends again, crowded around a table outside of the Natural Sciences Hall, but this time you’ve learned your lesson. There’s NO way you would ever even THINK of approaching-
“Hey Yoongi, isn’t that the girl from yesterday?” with an outburst of obnoxious laughter, the boy who had been trying to catch candy in his mouth points at you.
Aaaaaand now you’re approaching.
“Yeah, that’s her alright,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, an action that pierces you right through the core.
Your determined march skids to a rather ungraceful halt as you fight your own body to stand tall instead of tremble before him. His friends watch you with various levels of disinterest, but your attention is solely on Yoongi in his all-black, homeless hipster getup, this time only accented by those faded red converse.
He picks idly at invisible lint on his overcoat, avoiding eye contact, but of course this does not deter you from saying, “I get it. You think I’m just some desperate little girl who can’t take a hint.”
Did you REALLY just quote him?What is this? A kdrama? Are you now going to get up on your soap box and tell him all about how “wrong” he is-? Sorry! Sorry. I’ll stop. This is about you, not me.
After a few, excruciatingly long seconds tick by, Yoongi gives the DEEPEST, most fed up, award winning sigh you’ve ever heard before slowly coming to the realization that you AREN’T leaving. He rolls his gaze to you, “Am I wrong in thinking that?”
Your cheeks immediately flush in indignation, the intoxicating nature of his presence making it difficult to speak- not to mention think of a good comeback.
The answer that comes out of your mouth is a shaky, “Yes.”
Yoongi scoffs, voice raspy and tone demeaning, “Is that so?”
***Elaboration: Sometimes, losses can also be classified as gains. It simply depends on how you frame it in your mind. Mistakes can be learned from. The only true failure is the self-denial of growth.
Step 4) Give up**** and realize he’ll never change
“Yes,” you affirm with more surety than you knew you were capable of possessing at the moment. “Because I realized something.”
You have no idea where these words are coming from, but as he quirks an eyebrow at you, they seem to bubble up from a place of rising confidence, a place of a heightened sense self worth.
Maybe you finally understand that you have more value than that plate of shit he’s been offering. Maybe you have a single moment of clarity in which your head surfaces from above the murky waters of his gravitational pull.
Or maybe… you’ve just finally decided to start listening to me?
“We wouldn’t work out anyway,” you tell him with a small smile, “You’re clearly out of my league but honestly, I’m glad you’re comfortable enough with your self image to lower your standards. That takes some REAL character… but also some desperation, no? Maybe you should try and hide it a bit better just so other girls and your friends don’t find out about your LITTLE problem- oops, sorry, SUNBAE. See you around!”
You did NOT just use that dominance kink against him. SLAY, GURL, SLAY.
Yes, it had taken a moment of self deprecation, but to you, it was worth the fatal plummet of Yoongi’s ego from smug agreement to humiliated despair.
With a quick bow, you scurry away to the invigorating soundtrack of his friends’ mocking laughter and the beginnings of a heated interrogation as to the meaning of your “little problem” comment.
Ultimately, he fended off your advances like a pro fuckboy, earning his “no strings attached” and “heart breaker” badge, but damn it will take him a while to smooth that one over.
So he may have “won,” but in my book, YOU are the WINNER.
****Correction: sometimes, persistence DOES pay off.
A/N: I KNOW I KNOW THIS TOOK FOREVER. I just hated the first couple of drafts that came out and was so uninspired that it took the precious bb @roseok to finally get things in gear again. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed!
NOW! Some questions regarding the next one:
(feedback is appreciated)
-I have their plots planned…a little. Would we want to see Hobi, Namjoon, or Seokjin first?
-did you like the interaction with the narrator? Or should I go back to the standard, objective “how to” manual format?
-aaaand hows the series doing overall? People seem to like it, but is there any way you think I can improve it?
If you could just take a hot second to answer those via a reply here, ask box, or direct message, it would be much appreciated. Thanks my loves xx
Dan Cain literally looks like a giant ass bird who flew into town and follows West around campus looking for food and protection?? literally like imagine this oversized well behaved heron, quietly following Herbert down the morgue hallway
….there he is……….look at those wings……… is he domesticated??…….Who Knows…
My high school had off-campus lunch as a means to avoid buying and serving and feeding upwards of 2,400 high school kids a day.
“Go away, feed yourself. This is a privilege that other schools in the area do not have. Also you have an hour and if you want to drive, you have to buy a pricey parking permit every semester. If you’re late, face detention.”
This lead to a plethora of problems including, but not limited to:
1. Children in car accidents/getting hit by cars.
2. Teaching children fast food dependency. There’s a reason I have bad eating habits as an adult, and off-campus lunch is why.
3. Kids going hungry because they didn’t have the money to eat off-campus, bring non-existent food from home, or the shitty over priced food at the “cafe” that staffed two people to feed a school that held 2,400 kids.
Number 3 should be reason enough that school meals should be free.
I was lucky enough that I came from a family where these things weren’t a major issue for me. I, every now and then, had enough that ended up covering some friend’s lunches because they didn’t have the cash. And when my parents found out I was feeding friends that couldn’t feed themselves? They gave me more money. I was lucky I had this.
School meals should be free because not everyone is lucky.
East/SE Asian folktale sketches bc it’s October and I haven’t drawn anything remotely spooky. HAPPY HALLOWEEN for those celebrating and happy excuse to get free food on campus for those who aren’t. Guess who’ll be hunting for said free food.
(unrelated, but ty to those who commissioned sketches, I’m working on them!)
Just walking alone at night on campus to get food, as one does, and i ended up standing here for a while, so i figured why not share. I really adore this fountian, its so flippin pretty. and dudes, it smells like a pool, which is so calming for no reason. lol ok, random post over.~
So last night was eventful. We were going to a surreal costume party, so I’d driven down to my undergrad school and I was excited to eat dinner there because it was a cheat day and there were a handful of restaurants I really liked. Which were then all closed for whatever reason. And then we went to this make your own pizza place (ala Chipotle sort of). It was super crowded and loud and I was already stressed from driving all over campus trying to find food and trying to get done before we ran out of time to get ready. And I look at the menu literally all of the caloric information was written everywhere.
And it’s sort of funny because I get to this point where I think I’m fine, and I probably was just being dramatic and that my disordered eating wasn’t really that bad. And then I have a panic attack in a pizza place and I’m clenching my hand and trying not to burst into tear and hyperventilating. So that was fun. I ended up making my own rather than going with one of the options provided and then I couldn’t really look at the options because all the labels had caloric information on them. I mean, I understand why they do it but also. And after I ate it I went to pee and my brain was like screaming to purge and I just looked in the mirror and said to myself no, we aren’t doing that. So that’s good? Like progress? I panicked but I got control of it, ate the thing, and didn’t throw it up.
The costume party was okay. The hostess put a green wig on me and that was nice.
At $68,000 per year, George Washington University in Washington, D.C., is one of the most expensive schools in the country, and yet some students — most of whom receive financial aid — still don’t have enough to eat every week.
So the school opened a food pantry for students, joining over 300 other schools across the nation that have done the same.
The school’s food pantry is unmarked. Students fill out forms that list their email addresses and student ID numbers, but they do not have to give their names or discuss their finances.
“One of the things that we learned from talking to all the other universities that we spoke to this summer was one of the concerns for students is anonymity around this and being able to feel like they can use us without having any judgment,” Miller says.
He describes one student who walked in terrified of not knowing what the pantry would be like and was overjoyed and brought to tears when she saw it was like a grocery store.
> hungry > campus food places are closed > don’t want to spend money > don’t want to wash dishes > DISPOSABLE SOUP CUP > day saved > still hungry > fill disposable soup cup with canned soup > reduce reuse recycle
Summary: You and taehyung are childhood friends, but things happened to Taehyung and changed him. You get to be his classmate in High School, but he end up embarrassing you in front of the class, and this end up you being bullied. HS ended and now you’re in college. Will you finally be free from the bullies?