#re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

[eoieopda]

Yoongi + “runaway bride” I’mma leave this one up to your interpretation bc I know I’ll love it either way and also wanna see what you come up with 👀

oooooooh!!! v excited by this prompt, lol. this is, um, going to hurt kind of a lot at the beginning, but stick with me!!!! also, i accidentally made this >3.3k words….. which i will proofread when i am no longer exhausted 🤪

the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

ft. POV shift, pining & correlating angst, reader who’s🎵 a runner she’s a track star 🎵, a #nonspon vans product placement, a very unfortunate namjoon (sorry, buddy,) childhood idiots in love

Yoongi sat in a seat chosen specifically for him not because he wanted to, but because he knew how much time you’d sacrificed in writing every place card by hand.

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours.

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

There was nothing he could do about it, either, so he swallowed that grief with a mouthful of bibim nengmyun. He knew it wasn’t the food that tasted so bitter on his tongue; however, on the off-chance that it was, he followed suit with another ill-advised swig of makgeolli.

During the two subsequent hours he sat and stewed at that table, Yoongi had lost count of just how many glasses he’d had. His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth.

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

Your friendship had started early because your respective mothers had grown up together, and found each other once again as adults with two kids each. Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then.

He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with.

He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around.

At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

Now.

There, while everyone around him clinked their chopsticks against their glasses and Namjoon accepted the crowd’s wordless demand that he kiss you.

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

Yoongi had never been a particularly hopeful person, but buried deep in the back of his brain, there had always been a crumb of it. Part of him, however stupid, thought you’d end up together at a dinner like this. All of this was the last nail in the coffin, the alarm clock screaming that it was time to wake up.

Suddenly more nauseous than he’d ever been before, Yoongi scooted his chair back so abruptly that it scraped along the floorboards. Just as quickly, he got to his feet and made a beeline for the exit. Of all the heads that turned to watch him leave, yours was the only one he noticed in his peripheral vision. He could feel your eyes on his back — pictured how confused you must look — and it only made his stomach acid churn faster.

When he finally made it out to the patio behind the restaurant, Yoongi’s suspicions were confirmed: closed for the season. Fitting. He wasn’t in the mood to heed the signs, so he stepped carefully — one leg at a time — over the hip-high metal gate and gulped down sharp, late autumn air. As he did, he begged himself to get his shit together for you, if not for him.

He spent several minutes out there, maybe even hours, sitting on a bare, metal chair and glowering out at the trees at the edge of the property. He hated himself, he realized, for how easily he wasted time. Let it slip by unnoticed while he stood still.

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

At least, that was his first guess.

Yoongi quickly learned that the clicks weren’t signaling the passing seconds; they were broadcasting the urgent beat of stilettos on brick. So, having figured that his mother had appeared outside to gun him down, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and braced himself for the be-all, end-all of scoldings.

What he got instead was you and the undeserved concern that caused your eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly once you reached the gate. With your manicured hands on the cold metal, you shivered, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Did you eat too much of the gochujang? I definitely did, and now I’ll be up all night with heartburn.”

Yoongi felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. The memory caught him in a riptide, beat him bloody against the rocks because he could’ve sworn he was sixteen again, stacking old encyclopedias under the headboard of your bed. He’d read somewhere online that, while sitting upright in a chair can exacerbate reflux, sleeping at an angle could help.

He was dizzy when he blinked back at you and saw your lips moving. He had to focus hard to figure out what you were saying.

“You remember that?”

Yoongi struggled to even out his breathing; he had no hope at all of finding the plot he’d lost. “Huh?”

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead. “The encyclopedias,” you chuckled, “They worked, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

The two of you stood in tense silence for so long that Yoongi’s soul had nearly ejected itself fully from his body.

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered, “Yoongi, that is not — Why would you —”

As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive.

“Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

Now?

He didn’t know how to respond. He was paralyzed, inside and out, and he deserved it. Who the fuck was he, forcing the burden of his feelings onto you?

Selfish. Stupid. Out of time, as usual.

The makeup you always took so much time on started to run alongside your tears. Yoongi had seen you cry before, though he’d always been the reason you stopped, rather than started. He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

“I’m getting married in the morning!”

Your reminder was a dagger flying out of your mouth, sticking him right between the ribs. It stung as images flooded his mind — of you and Namjoon, your guests, and your out-of-season, imported fucking hydrangeas. It hurt even worse to see how badly you shook as you glared at him.

“Yoongi — fuck!”

Before you walked away, your eyes locked on his for a fraction of a second. In that moment, Yoongi promised himself that it was the last time you’d ever have to see his face.

When you were little, you pictured your wedding day like a moment ripped straight out of Cinderella. In your head, you’d wake up to birds singing at your window and mice scurrying around your feet, eager to dress you in a gown of epic and magical proportions. It’d be perfect. For years, you’d been sure of it.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

You crawled out of bed without the assistance of altruistic rodents and shuffled your dead weight over to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. For once, your imagination had been accurate. Your puffy eyes were red in the aftermath of all your tears. They ached above circles so deep and dark that they would’ve alarmed you if you hadn’t expected them.

Namjoon had seen you at what you both believed to be your worst. Neither of you could’ve ever predicted that the Corpse Bride would be the one staggering down the aisle towards him. He’d love you anyway, you knew it, no matter how you looked. But if he knew what you spent all night toiling over…

You shook your head and abruptly turned away from the mirror. There were several of your dearest friends bustling around the room next to yours, all of whom were waiting on you. Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

You lost all track of time when a blur of hands went to work on you. If you’d closed your eyes while you dissociated, you could’ve pretended that your assistants were those woodland creatures you used to dream about. But you couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t sleep through this part, couldn’t let your mind wander all the way back to that patio.

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

As you sat in that hotel room, far away from the patio, you pictured every other moment you wished Yoongi had said what he did. The thousand times you’d thought for sure he felt the same, and all the ways you distracted yourself when you resigned to believing he didn’t. Every person you dated until you finally managed to move on —

“— please, love?”

You blinked rapidly to force your eyes to focus. In front of you, your mother stood with a knowing smile on her face and a sokchima in her hands. You didn’t need to ask her to repeat herself; you took the hint and rose slowly to your feet.

“I was nervous on my wedding day,” she hummed as she pulled the undergarment gently over your head. “Hungover, too, but your grandmother does not need to know that. Frankly, I’m surprised she couldn’t tell with how bloated I was when she helped me get ready…”

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. This moment should be special, you thought bitterly. All you wanted to do was cry; to apologize to your mother for your total inability to care while your wedding happened around you, not for you.

Soon enough, you were dressed. Your friends and older sister gushed about how beautiful you looked — the perfect bride — like you weren’t caught in the web of an anxiety attack. Like it wasn’t all wrong, and you weren’t dangling on the precipice of your life’s greatest mistake. Like you hadn’t spent so much of your hard-earned money on invitations and greenhouse-grown, special-ordered fucking hydrangeas.

Like you could catch a fucking breath under all the layers of your hanbok.

Sensing that a moment alone was necessary, your mother kissed your cheek and ushered the others out the door ahead of her. Before seeing herself out, too, she stalled in the threshold, turned back around to look at you, and exhaled through a pause.

“I left your shoes by the dresser,” she chirped.

The gentleness of her tone was reassuring, but there was a faint gleam in her eyes that caught your attention. Before you could ask after it, she nodded firmly once and let the door click shut behind her.

Alone again, your instinct was to do the same thing you’d spent ten consecutive hours doing — burying yourself under pillows and crying until you ran out of tears. But you had run out, which was precisely was the problem. You had no options left, nothing left to do but lean in.

At least, that was your first guess.

Your list of choices expanded by one when you saw the well-worn pair of slip-on Vans your mother had set out for you.

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.

Only two meters away, a garment bag hung from the hook on the back of his bedroom door. That bag — and the crisp, black suit it concealed — lingered there for weeks in the shadows, untouched since the day he bought it. Even though it hadn’t left its hanger, he felt it smothering him throughout the night. It choked him while one thought ran circles in his sleep-deprived brain:

The reason he bought it was the same reason he’d never be able to wear it.

Sick of the way he’d trapped himself with his thoughts, Yoongi pushed himself to his feet and crossed over to the door. With the way he flung it open, knob slamming against the wall, he’d likely never recover his security deposit. It felt good, though, taking his grief out on that godforsaken suit.

On his way to his front door, Yoongi stopped short. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cabinet he hadn’t opened in weeks. As he stared at it, the devil and angel on his shoulders warred over the action he wanted so desperately to take.

Sure, he’d recently — finally — quit at your insistence, but what did that matter now?

He gritted his teeth and shook his conscience off his shoulders with a shrug. Within seconds, Yoongi was on the other side of his kitchen, grabbing an unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter that lay in wait next to it. He closed his hand tight around it so he couldn’t see the Hello Kitty stickers you’d placed all over the plastic; your attempt to dissuade him from using it in public.

Joke’s on you, he thought as he placed a cigarette between his lips, your plan backfired. Leaving your mark on it the way you had was the only thing that’d kept him from throwing it away — and the only reason he still had a lighter to use at all.

Yoongi opened his front door with one hand as he tried to ignite the lighter with the other. No matter how many time he flicked the pad of his thumb over those little metal ridges, nothing sparked. Defeated yet again, he slumped down onto the porch swing, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to break down over something so stupid.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed as he sat like that. He had no way to tell who those urgent footfalls belonged to, either. That is, not until panted breaths hit his ears and prompted him to open his eyes.

Admittedly, Yoongi had pictured you in your bridal hanbok more than once throughout the years. Half the time, it hadn’t even been purposeful. From first to third grade, you’d rambled to him about your dream wedding on your daily walks home from school. You spoke about it so often, in fact, that even he started thinking about what embroidery a mouse might add to the hem of your chima.

As the pair of you got older, you brought it up less, so Yoongi didn’t think about it often. The image crept up on him, though, once in a while. Every time you brought him as a plus one to your friends’ weddings because you didn’t want to dance alone; and he nearly told you that he’d always want to be your partner.

Or that time you cried through your worst ever heartbreak on his couch, lamented that you’d die an old maid, and never get to wear one.

Even as recently as last night, when he drank half a fifth of whiskey and grieved over the fact that he’d never get to see you wear one.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the real thing, not with the way you’d doubled over to catch your breath; and bunched the ends up in your fists, presumably to prevent yourself from tripping as you — ran here?

“What did I tell you about the cigarettes?” You puffed, still with your hands on your knees and your face angled at the sidewalk.

Somehow, despite running five kilometers to Yoongi’s doorstep, you hadn’t displaced a single hair from your artfully crafted up-do. Your makeup hadn’t budged, either, which meant that the only sign of your expended effort was the tint of pink on your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait. Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

“Exactly.”

With one last, deep breath, you returned to your upright position. The second you did, Yoongi was the one choking up.

Rapid blinking did nothing to stop the tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t shake the inexplicable flutter in his chest at the sight of you. You’d always been perfect, but this was —

“Oh, my god,” he croaked, thoroughly melted from the inside out.

Yoongi stood before his brain could signal his legs to do so; or remind his hands not to drop the phone, lighter, and cigarettes he’d been holding. His eyes, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. He drank in your appearance like he’d spent the last twenty-two years wandering, dehydrated in the desert — and in a way, he had.

You blinked back at him with swimming eyes as if you’d found sanctuary, too. Suddenly aware of what you were gripping, you opened your fists and let the fabric flutter down to the ground. While smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist, you asked softly, “Not bad for a bunch of mice, right?”

“Look just like a dream,” he replied just as gently.

Yoongi’s hands, which were thankfully now free, reached out and grabbed yours. You followed his lead as he spun you, twirled under his raised arm until you ended up with your face mere centimeters from his.

“Yoongi,” you breathed. Your eyes danced from his, to his lips, and back again. “If you wait another twenty-two years to tell me how you feel, please pick a time and place that is mutually convenient. I swear to God, I’ll —”

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb:

“I love you.”

#re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas #jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #2k drabblepalooza #myg #min yoongi #yoongi #bts #bts drabble #yoongi drabble #bts imagine #bts scenarios #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #trashlibrary

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Yoongi (Pt 2)

My ult bias, it makes sense that there were too many to fit into one list. All of these authors capture the essence of my favourite tsundere king, check these stories out and show them some love. Part 1 here.

A Steamy Conversation by @madbutgloriouspond. Yoongi x f! reader. You walk in on a half-naked, dripping wet, tangerine haired Yoongi, he's mean and cocky and the inevitable happens. Smutty perfection from Memes.

Clockwork Heart by @vyduan. Yoongi x reader. The chaebol tsundere Yoongi that I'll never stop screaming about. A brilliant, capable reader, a hot Yoongi who does secret acts of kindness, and beautifully rendered side characters including wise and witty BFF Seokjin.

Knee-high by @jjungkookislife. Yoongi x reader in an established relationship. A sexy, skirt wearing, orange haired, watermelon chapstick using Yoongi with a lip piercing in a smutty, enjoyable read.

I'm not even gonna say it by @taetaespeaches. Yoongi x reader. An incredibly cute, fluffy read, where Yoongi stops for lemonade on a swelteringly hot day.

Fireworks by @starlostjimin. Yoongi x f! reader in an established relationship. A soft, fluffy, spicy story with the domestic Yoongi of my dreams.

Too hot to sleep by @gamerguk. Fiance Yoongi x reader - a short, smutty read with a hilarious cameo from Hobi at the end.

The Sweetest Thing by @illneverrecover. A super cute sweet treat featuring a grumpy florist Yoongi and a baker reader.

Kinkmas Day Four drabble by @monimonimoon. A deliciously hot, petty co-worker Yoongi at the office Christmas party.

On the nature of living by @sugalaritae. Griddle's an incredible writer, and this very beautiful story starts off with Yoongi x a ghost reader and resonates so much with me emotionally.

Home by @junghelioseok. Secret agent AU with Yoongi x reader. Short, sweet and comforting.

Set me free by @hesperantha. A time-travel tale with tragedy of epic proportions. You won't have read anything else quite like it.

The one with Yoongi, Netflix and zero chill by @eoieopda. A hilarious reader, a fluffy and cuddly Yoongi and softness and feelings all round.

Yoongi is a rock by @yoongsisbae. A beautifully written story that made me think about mortality and constancy and has the singularly beautiful line ‘And when Yoongi cracked he thought of you’. It gives me chills remembering it. Stunning.

The one with Yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas by @eoieopda. I knew I was in for angst when I started reading but I didn't bank on the beautifully realised longing and characters I wanted to cry for. I adore this.

Best served cold by @anotherbtswriter. Yoongi and afab reader in a mafia AU with drama, tsundere Yoongi energy and a duplicitous family. Riveting.

Bao by @whatifyoulivelikethat. Delivery boy Yoongi x chef reader. One of the first Yoongi stories I read, and have re-read so many times since then. This Yoongi's so perfectly characterised, and there's a cameo from a sexy model Taehyung too.

Dominance and Domesticity by @theharrowing. A Yoongi who doms you in the bedroom and also does ironing? Where do I sign up? Sexy perfection.

Cybersex by @gimmethatagustd. Yoongi x f! reader. Reader is a phone sex hotline operator in this brother's best friend AU. Featuring a hot, confident, capable Yoongi who nearly set my screen on fire.

Shameless by @vyduan. Idolverse AU with Yoongi and reader. A stunning story, part of the Her multiverse series, with complex, layered characters that are so beautifully human. One of the first stories I read when I started reading BTS fanfic, and one I won't forget.

#fic rec: yoongi #fic rec list #yoongi fics

[eoieopda]

i get so dang flustered when y’all say nice things about the stuff written for my 2k drabblepalooza. i can’t even tell you. this is some of the stuff i’m proudest of, esp. because i’m starting to wiggle off in new directions, AU-wise.

thank you for being my lil guinea pigs and reading/sharing my stuff 😭

#jade speaks #re: the one where hoseok plays with fire #re: the one with jungkook and the sharpshooter #re: the one with taehyung and the rook #re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas #re: the one with namjoon and the u haul #re: the one with seokjin and without complaints #re: the one with seokjin and the marathon #re: the one with hoseok and the magic fingers #re: the one with jimin and the synonyms #knj #pjm #kth #ksj #hobi #myg #jjk #2k drabblepalooza

[eoieopda]

i will also be honest in that i straight up did not read through the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas before hitting “post” because i was in another realm of tired & it just flew out of me…… so i’m gonna go lay eyes on this thing i threw out haphazardly for the very first time 🤪😵‍💫

#what if i hate it hahahahah #jade speaks #myg #re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

[eoieopda]

It is time for the anons and mutuals to join hands and YELL AT JADE! This SCREAMING is brought to you in part by this line:

“It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb […]”

What even?! 😠 Where can I download the software update your brain is running?! 🤯 Next level, ma’am, space level. 😤

JADE!

pfffffttttt hahahahaha. the reaction i get from you any time i breathe 😭🫶🏻

#jade speaks #anon #re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

[eoieopda]

Hi!!

I've literally found your AMAZING drabblepalooza and gobbled down the Yoongi angsty runaway bride one, Jin friends to lovers and Tae two-shot one🥴🥴🥴 and just wanted to say thank youuuuu for sharing your talent and for just filling my day and page with your art!! I really really loved and enjoyed reading them!! The Yoongi one really got me in the feels 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and achy and GAHHHH what a PRIME level of angst it was 😫😫

I think your requests are closed if that banner is any indication🤣 but I can't wait to binge on all your works!!

Thank youuuuuu for writing them!! And sharing 🥺🥺💜

omg, this is so sweet 🫠 frick, i’m blushing, lol. thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to message me 🥲🫶🏻

2k drabblepalooza is still happening, so more of those will be coming out soon! can’t guarantee that every one of those requests will be filled, but feel free to read the rule post and then drop a request in my inbox! i do have a surplus of seokjin and hobi requests, so if you have anything in mind for another member, it’s more likely to be filled!

#purplebeebs #jade speaks #re: the one with seokjin and the marathon #re: the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas #re: the bad thing #re: reckless serenade

[eoieopda]

re soft asks: actually...... what if i said "all of them." how unhinged would that be (do it)

well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions..... i did this to @moni-logues last week and — uhhhh — i guess i deserve this, lmao.

buckle up, kids.

1, 2, and 3 were just answered here.

4. what flower would you like to be given?

i love, love, love, hydrangeas. idk if that yoongi drabble made that clear, lol.

5. who do you feel most you around?

my older sister and my best friend, IRL. if we're talking internet, @jihopesjoint has proven to be my actual clone in all respects, which is both spooky and incredible. we're like the lindseys lohan from the parent trap except instead of camp, it was tumblr.

6 was answered here.

7. what color brings you peace?

hmmmmmmmm. lilac or mint green. also really deep forest green.

8. tag someone (or multiple people) who make you feel good. 

i already tagged nicki but ope here she is again: @jihopesjoint. also YOU, @sailoryooons, @here2bbtstrash (though idk if m will see this,) @luaspersona. this is not an exhaustive list!

9. what calms you down?

i don't know if i've ever actually felt truly calm in my entire life?? but the closet i get is driving around with the windows down, listening to music, and drinking a silly little coffee.

10. what’s something you’re excited for?

well, i moved to a new state yesterday and start a new job on monday, so.... a new chapter. the previous one was v ouchie and i'm excited to put down the baggage i've been shouldering.

11. what’s your ideal date?

be honest — is this you asking me out? jk..... unless 👀 (no, i'm kidding.) i never don't want to go to a dive bar, listen to a band, be bad at pool, and laugh until my stomach hurts!!

12 was answered here.

13. what’s your comfort food?

this is so embarrassing and really snitches on my depressive habits, but lately, smuckers uncrustables have been sustaining my whole life. specifically, the strawberry ones. tell me you're struggling without telling me you're struggling!!!!

14. favorite feel-good show?

new girl and schitt's creek are always the first ones i think of when i need to turn my brain off and laugh!

15. for every emoji you get, tag someone and describe them in one word.

you didn't give me any, so i'm just gonna yeet right past this one.

16. compliment the person who sent you this number.

this is gonna sound so dumb because i don't know you in the literal, physical sense, but i'm so fucking proud of you??? i know the gauntlet you're currently going through and it warms my old, dead heart to see that you're not only surviving it, but doing (what looks to be) a really incredible job at holding onto you — your interests, your joy, your hobbies. i wasn't super successful at that. it's hard as fuck, but you're doing the damn thing.

17. fairy lights or LED lights?

HALLOWEEN LIGHTS. LIL LIGHT-UP PUMPKINS. next question.

18. do you still love stuffed animals?

yes, binch! all i have atm is a gigantic raccoon squishmallow that my sister gave me when my life exploded last year and i cling to that shit, lol.

19. most important thing in your life?

my family. my siblings, my parents, my nephews, my dog, and my best friend.

20. what do you want most in the world right now?

the first thing that came to mind is taco bell because i've been craving it for days. but uhhhhh, if we're getting existential here, i want whatever is the emotional equivalent of a deep breath.

21. if you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

all you can do is love him hard and let him go.

22. what would you say to your future self?

drink water. seriously, get up and get a glass of water. right now. how are you even alive? lmao.

23. favorite piece of clothing?

an old, beat-up denim jacket that used to be my mom's! she wore it when my parents brought me over from korea, once my adoption was finalized.

24. what’s something you do to de-stress?

🏃🏻‍♀️ run, beautiful, run, yeah, you gotta run 🏃🏻‍♀️

25. what’s the best personal gift someone could give you (playlist, homemade card, etc.)

you could give me a pen cap that you chewed on and i'd still be like, omfg, you made this? for me?

but fr, i'm a sentimental bitch, so anything along the lines of "i saw/heard this and thought of you/this thing we did," etc.

26. what movie would you want to live in?

oooh, idk! is it weird if i say the craft, given what happens? i just really wanna be a witch with a bunch of other baddies.

27. which character would you want to be?

....from the movie in 25? or generally? because i'd want to be baby yoda, thottin' and boppin' around with pedro pascal, drinkin my lil drink, and being baby.

28 was answered here.

29. morning, afternoon or night?

morning! i'm an up-and-at-em kinda fella. love having a whole day ahead of me, love a breakfast sandwich, love a sunrise.

30. what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

bon fires, maple syrup, people singing while they cook/work/whatever, getting zooted and then over-competitive while playing egyptian rat screw, being hugged for a laughably long time.

#mj! #you menace #ily #jade speaks #ask game #game over y'all can go home now lmao