#cw high school

[aspd-culture]

aspd-culture is

Being told in English/literature class in school to write or speak about if humans are inherrently good or bad and then getting told by the teacher you are just plain WRONG for your side ("but it is very well-written and convincing which is even more worrying honestly" -the teacher in question) as the rest of the class chooses "inherrently good" and being the only one in the class who is forced to write a whole second essay arguing the other side as an "exercise in challenging your beliefs to see if they hold up". Then getting a private conversation wherein you are told you have to see the social worker when you say your beliefs haven't changed despite being able to write a convincing essay of the other side (because you echoed the points you knew they wanted to hear).

This one is so specific and probably unrelateable, but I have been holding onto the anger since high school, and I needed to let it out after all these years.

[lilybug-02]

Eimmet High...temmiE high. OMG!

Part 28 || First || Previous || Next...

--Full Series--

Next update may take...much longer! I have finals and an internship and not to mention I have to draw- A LOT :')

[shifty-minds]

random af but a few nights ago i was watching videos of me during high school n yeah guess that saying "you'll only miss it when you lose it" is soooo true omg

it was hell but i really liked it too

[deceased-bunny]

Together

[housesofmouses]

[bittwitchy]

Got me on the edge, they're pushing, pushing, they're pushing.

[blossom-hwa]

the words I say, and the words I mean | h.k

pairing: Huening Kai x gender neutral!reader genre:  fluff, a touch of angst, high school!au, childhood best friends to lovers!au warnings: cursing word count: 2.5k notes: this was originally a story for jay written for chip as a lovely birthday present, I've repurposed it for hyuka because I think he'd fit the lovely lovestruck trope just as well :) hope you enjoy! On a cool golden afternoon on the cusp of winter, Kai falls for you again. 

Jay (Enhypen) Ver. | TXT Masterlist

At precisely five fifty-three on a Friday afternoon of a crisp fall-turning-winter day, Kai comes to this conclusion:

He says a lot of shit.

Which, in hindsight, any of his friends could have probably told him. Taehyun for certain—and Beomgyu too just by virtue of him being a paragon of evil or something. But there’s that whole saying about having to realize things about oneself by oneself, or whatever, because you’ll never listen to anyone else, not for real.

Or maybe there isn’t a saying. Maybe someone just told him that and he’s remembering it now.

Doesn’t matter. The point is, Kai walks into the coffee shop where you work at exactly five fifty-two pm on this wonderful Friday afternoon in the crisp intersection between fall and winter where the sun is beginning to set noticeably earlier but not so much so that it fucks up his entire brain, locks eyes with you behind the counter, and says:

“Hey, doofus.”

Which is certainly a substitute—if not a very good one—for what he says in his brain:

You look really beautiful in this lighting, and I kind of want to kiss you.

You roll your eyes and it’s still beautiful, somehow, in the golden afternoon sunlight spilling through the cafe window, and once again Kai is reminded of how hard he’s fallen for every single bit of you—the childhood best friend who lives next door, who’s seen him from his grubby little toddler days to his ratty pre-teen years to his ungodly mess of existence in this last year before college. You’ve seen everything about him, he’s seen everything about you, and if Kai hadn’t realized it before (a year ago, you fell asleep in the passenger seat as he was driving the two of you home from school and he got a slap of cold reality from God Herself when he looked over to see drool trickling down the side of your face and the first thing he thought was cute) he’d certainly realize it now, at five fifty-two pm on a Friday afternoon at the cusp of fall-turning-winter where the sunlight shines so warm on your half-annoyed, half-fond expression that Kai can proudly say is reserved solely for him.

But it’s kind of like a second realization of love, he guesses. Because apparently once wasn’t enough. And it comes in the form of him calling you a doofus when he just really wants to kiss you instead.

He really, really says a lot of shit. More specifically, a lot of shit he doesn’t mean. Mostly because you don’t know how he feels, and he’s too scared to ask if you might feel the same way.

“Good afternoon to you too, doofus,” you snip, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter. He hands you the exact amount for the drink like clockwork because it’s a routine at this point, and then, also in routine, he eyes it exaggeratedly.

“There’s no poison in this, is there?”

There it is. Again. There’s no poison in this, is there?

How about this instead:

Thanks for the drink, I really love you.

You roll your eyes again and he has to curb the smile on his face, in case it betrays the way his heart is pounding in his chest like it does a lot these days at the sight of you. “No, asshole,” you intone. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d make sure there was blood.”

“Aw, so you don’t want to kill me?”

I’d probably let you stab me for free.

“I’m waiting for the right time.” You snicker. “You know, Beomgyu already offered to help me hide the body.”

Kai would respond, and if he did he’d probably say something equally dumb that he didn’t really want to say because his heart keeps screaming for him to tell the truth of his emotions but his mind keeps telling it to shut the fuck up, but the door opens again with a little ring of bells and even though it’s now five fifty-four pm, six minutes from the end of your shift, six minutes are still six minutes and he’ll have to wait those six minutes to walk you home.

Your manager’s a bitch.

So he parks himself at a table, idly scrolling through his phone while sipping at the bitter Americano you gave him (perfect for keeping him somewhat awake for the late night studying that will definitely happen tonight), and also sneaking glances at you when he’s more or less certain you’re busy. He does good today, doesn’t manage to get caught staring even once before you disappear into the back, presumably to strip off your apron and clock out.

Soobin sends him about five cat pictures in the several minutes it takes for you to change. Kai giggles into his drink and hearts them all right before a shadow looms over his seated figure.

“What’re you laughing at?”

In response, he lifts his phone and watches a smile bloom across your face at the cat pictures. “They’re adorable,” you coo.

Kai’s brain reacts before his mouth does, which sucks because it only gives further proof to his realization earlier which he’d kinda hoped was a fluke but was pretty sure it wasn’t.

So are you.

He doesn’t say that, because he doesn’t have the guts. “Yeah, if only I could convince my parents to get one,” he pouts instead, pocketing the phone. “Let’s go home.”

The bells above the door chime merrily as the two of you walk out into the golden sunshine, a subtle warmth that curls even through the sharp bites of wind that nip at his nose and cheeks. When winter comes with its snow and ice, you’ll switch to taking the car home—him driving over to pick you up instead of walking in the snow—so he cherishes the walks for now, a bit of peace and calm in the silence of the neighborhood air.

Well, not exactly peace and calm. Because the two of you are best friends, and so you bicker, and most of that bickering gets pretty loud and your neighbors probably hate you both even if they haven’t said it out loud yet, but to Kai it feels peaceful anyway. Calming. A breath of fresh air, a moment in which he can forget about the stress of school and college applications and just focus on being here with you.

You’re telling him a story about work today, gesticulating wildly as you reenact some woman telling you that her drink wasn’t frothy enough, that she expected two full fucking inches of froth so you’d better shake it again or remake it. Kai laughs, and cackles, and commiserates when you say you’d like to hunt her down and put her six feet under, and all the time his heart feels like it’s blooming, blooming under not the sun itself but the light of your smile as you laugh with him.

Like a sunflower, he thinks. A sunflower, always chasing the sun across the sky.

Holy shit, Yeonjun’s poetry is rubbing off on him. This is terrible.

And then you laugh again, this brilliant sound that’s like a cross between a pig’s snort and wedding bells, and yeah. Okay. Whatever. Maybe Yeonjun’s poetry is fine. Because at least it’s getting things right.

“I never want to work in the food industry again,” you complain, shaking your head. Your scarf seems to be slipping around your neck and Kai’s fingers itch to rearrange it, but he keeps his hands to himself because you’ll notice it, right? You’ll notice the slipping scarf instead and then he won’t have to risk having you feel the tenderness in his fingers that isn’t supposed to be there because he’s only supposed to be your best friend, not someone who has a crush on you. “All the horror stories are so real.”

“Okay, but have you considered...” He pauses dramatically as you look at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe you’re the problem.”

“Kai Kamal Huening—”

“If everything’s happening to you, I’m just saying, maybe there’s some correlation there—”

You punch him in the arm. Hard.

He wails.

“Oh my God, you fucking baby,” you hiss, all the while also holding your sides that are shaking with laughter as Kai flops to the ground, gripping his arm like you just attempted to cut it off. Good. Because he’s exaggerating, clearly, but only for your sake—so you can laugh. Just a bit. Enough to bring light back to your face that isn’t just from the sun.

“You punched me,” he whines, “and you’re calling me a baby?”

I’d let you punch me any day. And if I deserved it, I’d probably punch myself in the face, too. For you.

He’s going insane, he really fucking is, with the disconnect between the shit he says and the shit he wants to say. But the banter comes so easily, too easily—maybe that’s the reason why he can’t speak the words buried in his heart. Because it’s so much easier, so much simpler, to just pretend. To just bicker his way out of ever revealing anything to you.

“Oh my God, just shut up.” You haul him up and—holy shit, maybe he’s just some Victorian woman in disguise or whatever because he could swoon into your touch. He really could. But he doesn’t, because even to his dumbfuck lovesick heart, that’s overkill. “Come on, punch me. We’ll call it even.”

Kai stares at the arm you proffer to him, covered in the coat you’ve worn for several years at this point. He doesn’t know why, but for a moment, he can’t move. Can’t bring himself to.

Which is dumb as fuck. Because this is a thing you two have always done, jokingly hit each other at one point and when the other complains loud enough to cause a neighborhood ruckus, let them hit back to call it even. It started with your first fight as kids and it just...stayed. Until now. At this moment at sometime past six pm on a Friday evening, now, on a crisp fall-turning-winter day where wind has mostly carried away the coffee smell from your job and Kai is having a crisis about punching your arm.

But he has to do it. So—

He punches you.

Very softly.

Nothing at all like you punched him.

You blink. So does he.

“What the fuck was that, dude?” You narrow your eyes at him playfully, though something uncertain dances in your gaze. Alarm bells start ringing at full force in his brain—fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—“Are you going soft?”

He’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and a gust of wind blows the scarf around your neck and fuck you still haven’t noticed that it’s loose and he wants nothing more than to grab it and fix it so you won’t get too cold but he can’t, now, because he’s already revealed too much by not punching you the way you (and he!) expected and the uncertainty is still there in your expression and FUCK he needs to say something, he needs to say something—

No, it’s because I like you so much it hurts.

“No, it’s because you’re weak and you wouldn’t be able to handle a real punch.”

You screech and Kai screams and then you’re chasing him down the block, one fist held high as you yell something like I’ll give you a real fucking punch to whine about and even as he runs away from you he can hear the laughter in your voice even as you spout bloody murder and promises of revenge behind him, your screams blending with his gasping laughter as he stops, sides heaving with cackles, and you bowl him onto the cold sidewalk that still feels warm, somehow, warm with your giggles as you slap him in the shoulder, threats of violence still dripping from your lips—

“I give up,” he gasps, tears squeezing out of his eyes as he tries to stop laughing. “I give up.”

In other words:

I’ll let you win, always, because your happiness means everything to me.

You collapse to the ground beside him on the cold concrete, and there has never been anything more beautiful, Kai thinks, than the medley of your cackling laugh fading in the air and your expression scrunched in giggling happiness as you sit up to face him. “Good,” you sniff, eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight. “Glad you know your place.”

Kai watches you stand, then extend a hand to help him up. His eyes linger on that hand, the hand he held so much as a kid, the hand he stopped holding in middle school because it’s icky and we aren’t dating, the hand he’s wanted to hold for several years now and even more so since last year when he saw you drooling in the car and thought you were so, so cute. He reaches up, takes it, and in the moment where your palms are connected, his heart aches, aches so much for him to just say—

I love you.

But you let go of his hand, still smiling, so oblivious to the way his heart sags and cracks with the weight of those three words he can’t say as the warmth of your palm leaves his, and he knows—it isn’t meant to be, you loving someone as ratty and messy and damaged as he. You’re best friends. Nothing less, but certainly nothing more.

So he leaves the words in his overflowing heart, locks them away with a cold key made of the sudden absence of your hand’s warmth against his. “Come on,” he says instead, smiling the crooked smile that you always say makes him look like a stupid little rugrat on the streets. But he gets the patented Kai Kamal Huening smile on your face in return, annoyance and exasperation and fondness all mixed into an expression that nearly explodes the box where he keeps those three words, eight letters, carefully locked away, so it can’t be too bad. Not really. Not if it gets him the sunlight of your smile on your face.

Nothing’s so bad, really, not even the weight of all the words he means but can’t say, not when you smile at him like this under the shimmering golden sunlight of a fall-turning-winter evening, not when the two of you are alone in the street glowing warm with laughter, not when it feels like nothing in the world can tear the two of you apart. It’s enough, really. Having you here, and knowing you’ll always be here, even if it means keeping secrets locked carefully away in his heart.

“Come on,” he repeats, and his smile isn’t even that strained as he jerks his head towards the end of the street. “The sun’s setting. Let’s get home.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[reunitedinterlude]

countdown to phil’s 37th bday - a year in review [3/30]

phil in the green ripped hoodie (february -> december 2023)

[screeblees]

Yandere ! Loser x Bully ! Reader Headcanons

Yandere ! Loser is Male and Bully ! Reader is Gender Neutral

Omg???? After my last two posts I’ve gained over 40 followers???

Welcome and I hope you enjoy Yandere ! Loser!!

Also thought I’d let people know before they started reading that Reader is gender neutral since I saw a few posts about it :3

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy<33

❥ Yandere ! Loser who is first noticed by Bully ! Reader.

❥Yandere ! Loser who comes to the conclusion that Bully ! Reader has a thing for the cute quiet type and has developed a crush on him.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who in return for your perceived crush, becomes obsessed tenfold. He must show that your feelings are not unrequited, after all!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who had spent the majority of his life being alienated from his peers and overlooked by everyone despite his hard earned grades and now practically bathes in your attention (in comparison, at least).

❥ Yandere ! Loser who finds it hard to conceal his excitement when you’re rough with him; shoving him back, grabbing the collar of his shirt, kicking him, slapping him! It just feels too good… And don’t get him started on your degrading words, he might just break!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who feels his knees become weak, back shivering and a heat lighting in their lower stomach when you shove, pin or cage him against a wall or locker in an attempt to intimidate him. Your face being so close to his, allowing him to breathe the same air as you, nothing about the position is helping him retain himself. In fact, he suspects he may even drool sometimes when your threats are especially descriptive. He’s just so pathetic and desperate for you!!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves spending hours upon hours worshipping every blessing (read: injury or bruise) you generously bestow upon him, taking pictures with his polaroid camera and noting on the back where and when and most importantly how he received each one.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves visiting your home at night with his camera in hand, capturing you at your most peaceful - a state they would never see at school - and watching you wind down and relax after a school day. Every photo is plastered upon his bedroom walls, his favourite ones being closest to his bed. Sometimes he’s treated to a show late at night when you think no one else is around and all Yandere ! Loser can do is take pictures and drool into the hand covering his mouth. Those photos go in a special box under his bed.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who loves stalking your social media, making fake accounts to scroll and comment and know all your connections; your family, friends, potential admirers and those you admire. Along with downloading and printing any photos of you for his walls, stalking where you’ve been and where you’re going.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who constantly daydreams all about you, everything about you. Drooling over his fantasies of how life’ll go once the two of you graduate and are together forever without any classmates, teachers or parents to get in the way.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who gets jealous when you touch anyone but him, are mean to anyone but him, talk to anyone but him, look at anyone but him. What right do they have to your attention? No one but him deserves your affections.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who despite his scrawny, weak appearance, is rather cunning and knows how to fight dirty. He catches whoever attempted to steal you away from him by surprise and swiftly cut their throat, ridding the world of them quickly.

❥ Yandere ! Loser who sighs dreamily at the sight of you putting another bully in their place for trying to take your Loser. Right in the middle of him completing one of the many tasks you give him, too. They’ll be dead by midnight but he can gleefully enjoy your violence in peace for now, with a perfect view too. You might as well make your relationship with him official at this point as you’ve made it clear he’s off limits to everyone else!

❥ Yandere ! Loser who believes it to be clear to everyone around that he is yours and you are his. And he’s right, many have noticed the strange interactions between the two of you and have all collectively agreed not to get involved. Even if you aren’t fully aware, he’ll fix that soon enough…

[aspd-culture]

Wtf what did the social worker even do? Tell u to knock it off and cast a magic spell to make u think humans are good actually?

Tw s*icide in fiction, panic attacks, ableism

The social worker and me were actually cool, because I'd been seeing her for my panic attacks. Nothing she said helped, but they promised (and lied) that they wouldn't tell my caregiver if I went every week so I did. If nothing else, it was a way to get out of a stressful class when I wanted to.

As for her reaction to that essay, I'm sure they made her read it but I never specifically brought it up myself and when she did she shrugged it off as "not surprising considering you have a long term record of being very smart but having difficulty socializing" and "kind of ridiculous that they sent you to me for this because I'm not in the business of changing anyone's views on humanity". She also said that she was "not sure they actually know what a social worker is or does if they think this is where they should send you for this".

I admit she seemed less supportive of my views than annoyed with their lack of understanding of her job - but it worked out to the same outcome for me of not having to talk about it anymore soooooo I was cool. We spent about 3/4 of that period just venting about them not understanding her job.

But the rest of the year I got looks from that teacher and she refused to call on me after that, when previously and in all my other classes I was the go to student for "no one knows the answer? Ok well I know who does - X you wanna answer this?". It was obvious I challenged that teacher's worldview and she did not like it. But she also tried to tell me she would send me to the office for refusing to read from a book about s*icide with a passage where someone literally has a panic attack (the book is told from inside their head and was VERY accurately written - it caused me a panic attack when I was forced to read it to avoid the write up!) a year before I would start being wheelchaired during panic attacks myself because I could no longer hide them. That was hell, but since she REALLY wanted me to talk to the social worker, I did - about how distressing that entire book was and how the teacher ignored multiple requests to be out of the room for discussions of su*cide and forcing me to read a panic attack in first person perspective out loud to the class. She filed a report. Idk if it went anywhere but ya know, she was right about one thing, talking to the social worker did make me feel better once that teacher got reported lol.

It was an overall -a million/ten experience in her class and I would have happily told that teacher to go fuck herself if I thought it wouldn't ruin my angelic-ly good (in front of adults lol) gifted kid privileges. I was *not* giving up the fact that monitors and admins ignored straight-up excessive PDA, swearing, tardies, missing work, etc. just to tell that teacher off. But I *do* hope she rots in hell and I also hope she thinks about that essay sometimes. I really do think it haunts her haha.

[daily-yhs-doodles]

[day 52]

more of mod beetle torturing the boy “:}

[ruler-of-the-universe-boy]

People who give yhs grian wings for only angst are doing it wrong you gotta do this /j

[jules-and-rue-and-lexi-too]

Yellowjackets / Welcome to Night Vale e34

[solargeist]

YES BEAU IS BACK!!!!

yeah loL i said i was gonna draw her more and then forgot .

she's always having... A time.

[mudboowl]

I don't even like this man. (but silly Character)

[evermorethecrow]

You - Radiohead