#[ but i am also tired bc my work life balance is dead now that i got in trouble uvu

[solivcgant]

but would you still enjoy eiji if he suddenly gave up gaming to camp with his shibe

#[ it is TRYING to be here cries #[ but then i enjoy the plotting and gushing with you guys about what our muses would do so thank you for keeping eiji alive-ish #[ its just difficult sometimes. but i am trying to reignite eijis muse #sᴇʀᴠᴇʀ ᴅɪsᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ | ooc #[ but i am also tired bc my work life balance is dead now that i got in trouble uvu

[craycraybluejay]

I purposely put myself in situations that inspire and stoke less than healthy patterns or put myself closer to said situations and then wonder why im feeling all insane. I think I want to convince myself that it's 'all temporary' and that whatever happened before in my head won't happen again. But it will. If only I could go off the deep end in one fell swoop in every way ever. Even that horrible thing you're thinking about, whatever it is. Yes, even that one. Just do everything terrible ever and then end it with suicide which is also Terrible Thing bc God forbid someone has autonomy over a life he not only didn't ask for but was given little reason to stay in. Ruin everyone's opinion of me. Inspire only fear and vitriol. Hatred and hurt and pain pain PAIN. Sure! I am a bad person! What are you going to do about it! By the time you figure out enough to send a mob after me, I'll already be long dead. You'll have to wash the smell of rot out of your fucking walls. Bitch.

Wish I could just. Grow from morbid into truly heinously unforgivable like that corpse flower. Despite what anyone believes, it would be growth. Just in a different, undesirable form. But wouldn't it be rad just to go apeshit? For a final trigger to send me bouncing round the walls intent on seeing blood? Everyone would hate me. That would be ok. I don't mind. People can feel how they feel. I know I unnerve people. It's like they can see the thoughts behind my eyes. Tick-tock, tick-tock; counting down into the next impassioned tirade. Is it about music or hurt? Or both? Breaking or building. Corruption or innocence. Life, death, rainbows and bloodbaths. Madness pulling at the corners. "Why are you staring?" I don't know. Your left forearm has taken a starring role in my next idea. It's not personal. Or maybe I like your smile. Or maybe I actually do just wonder how you look when you bleed. You'll never really know. Might be all of the above.

Sometimes the demon overtakes. I wouldn't say I have a split personality disorder, I don't really fit the criteria. I gave him a name though. Anyway he does that. And then suddenly I am not in a harmonic split of choice and rationale. A correct and healthy balance of right and wrong, good and bad. Suddenly I am tilted, the entire world is tilted, I feel dizzy and I don't know if it's somewhat physical or all mental. Everything shifts. Things mean something different. I'm more alien and darker. And that little voice (not an actual voice, no hallucination) is urging urging urging like it's the end of times, and we only have 24 hours left on Earth and nothing to lose. That whim? Do it. The other one too. You know you want to. What? Too pussy? Coward. Come on. You know me. I'm you. What's stopping you?

And then rationale and logic and all that are on the Defensive. No. Don't do it. Fight it. [More of the demons temptations.] Okay. Maybe do it a little but only in a really roundabout way that doesn't hurt anyone. Okay. Let's maybe go for a smoke. Let's close our eyes and fantasize. Think think think. Fight it. [More More More.] Hey maybe we should talk to someone? [Who is there to talk to? You're a freak. You say any of this shit to anyone they'll try to put a stop to it by treating you worse than farm animals. Worse than garbage. They deserve to die. They think you deserve to die. Doesn't that make you angry?] Okay so that's not an option. Um. Just hit something solid really hard until you're too tired to fixate. I don't know. [Aw. Is it not working? Little tired of rationality, aren't we? Relax. Let go. Don't think. Just do. Shoot first, questions later. Imagine how easy and simple things would be. They already are. Let me take care of you.] Tired tired tired. War.. Bed. Now. Don't look at anyone. Don't touch anything. Don't speak. Don't THINK. Shh quiet quiet quiet. [You can't silence me, idiot. I am you. What's the point of this? Who are you appeasing? There is a hell but there is no God. This isn't a war. There are no sides.] [Indulge.] Indulge. [Give.] Give. [Take.] Take.

#personal vent #delete later #multiple personalities #to be clear i am not claiming to have did or anything like that. you guys can have your system stuff and whatnot thats not me #mental breakdowns #its every day bro B) #its usually not as bad as is written here but thats just an example of a moderate day of it #without getting into specifics #just moderate #but the demon does get specific. he likes to tease and insult but it doesnt make me feel sad. worse. invigorated #actually schizospec #psycho in a way thats only hot to psycho chasers because im being super fucking vague about the possible subject matter #moment i get specific im getting more threats than your average US elementary school #edgy joke #does anyone else have something like this? #in a psychosexual downright toxic psychotic relationship with my demon which is just me but with a weird shift #like putting ur car in reverse. idk bruh. idk how to explain it #him talking to me is one thing. i can still take back control if i snap out of the trance. but when he overtakes literally the whole world #looks different. like actually literally different. like fucking. imagine if everything that was green was suddenly just 1 hex point darker #slightly darker green. madness inducing. #i. dont know what i want. i just want to feel in full harmony. i want to indulge the demon. i dont want to. i do. i dont. i #i think i just need to get in a good slapfight or tussle once in awhile and clear my head good #tell my friends 'hit me' when i feel the world sliding off to the side a bit and hope the momentary shock will fix it #idk does that work?

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 9

back at it again, and its time for the shadowplay arc, HELL yeah

oh I'm so excited i love this arc lets DO this

oooh its nightbeat and quark!! way before they become relevant, which is so cool

‘one of those recepticon fanatics’ lmao imagine if they were...the recepticons. just doesn't have the same ring to it 

god i fucking love all the politics of mtmte. i love how they’re talking about the senate here before we really get to See how bad they were (we heard a bit about it from whirl a few issues ago, and now here)

love how nightbeat is pretty much agreeing with the decepticon ideology here, even if its clear that he isn't Actually a decepticon - it just drives home the fact that, in this story, The Decepticons Were Right About A Lot Of That Stuff (or at least, they had a reason other than ‘destruction’ for rebelling). 

AND THEN THERES RUNG!!!!!!! WITH HIS MODEL OF THE LOST LIGHT....god i fuckgin LOVE the continuity in this story bc the first time reading this ur like oh ok rung is old yea makes sense...but then later all the time travel stuff happens and then its like OHHHHH 

damn poor rung nightbeat can rlly tell he's lonely just by looking at him vbhjdkdfhbjsjkdf geez. also nightbeat that's ur mystery stick bf from the future js!!

quarks extreme POV on all of the stuff is so interesting, and makes so much sense bc of Course he would think that as a non-combatant scientist who, due to his functional value in current society, wouldn't really benefit much from a revolution - in fact, he’d probably lose a lot. and that’s the sort of thing where you’re like, ok well think about everyone else dude, have some perspective - but at the same time, quark did suffer a pretty terrible fate, so his fears weren't entirely unfounded...augh, its so fascinating...im sorry I'm not gonna shut up about space robot politics this Entire time

HOW did nobody notice that dead body before now

ratchet spray-painting the hands he stole from pharma to match his own paintjob is like...kinda gruesome if you think about it hvbhsjkdfbkjdf

i love rewind sooo much oh my god 

he rlly stashed rung’s comatose body in a wheelchair behind the bar hbkjdhfbshjkdf rewind 

rewind and chromedome’s tag-team explanation....ough hhhhh THEM 

wait a sec, rewind, you have medical records in your database? that is, at least according to regular medical laws, very illegal lmao. my favorite long-running theme in mtmte: the fact that hipaa and osha laws on cybertron are either basically nonexistent, or just universally disregarded 

what the actual fuck is up w/cybertronian time units. that shit is wack as hell 

ooh i love how chromedome looks different in the flashback - no shoulder tires! - that's a cool detail

how come prowl just said ‘minute,’ rewind was busting it up w/all the wack ass fantasy time units just a second ago. geez

also goddd i love the scenery of pre-war cybertron, its SUCH a cool setting like, visually and aesthetically and politically

like, i adore details like the sign in the bg that says ‘everyone’s shape serves a purpose.’ really adds to the ‘society on the precipice of civil war currently controlled by an increasingly-desperate faction who are doling out propaganda like crazy in an attempt to maintain their image and control over the populace’ vibe

good ole murder mystery setup. love it!

pre-war prowl is such an interesting character. actually prowl in general is such an interesting character...I kinda wrote him off during my first read of mtmte (and even a little during my second readthru) as just this dude who’s an asshole (espec bc my prev tf experience involved watching tfa as a kid, and this prowl is very different from tfa prowl lol)...but prowl is SUCH a multi-faceted and interesting character, even in the relatively little we see of him in mtmte 

plus it was interesting to learn later that prowl was one of the characters that jro wanted for mtmte and didn't get, and MAN i wish he got prowl bc I would've loved to see what jro would've done w/prowl on the lost light, that would've been amazing. like, just imagine the arc he would have...I have no idea what that arc would BE, but I know it would be awesome. plus I’d be really interested to see how prowl would factor in, relationships-wise, amongst the crew of the lost light. so much potential!

anyways. I'm in a very talky mood tonight it seems. its currently 4 am so that kinda explains it. ok, moving on!

chromedome and prowl bantering....in their own morbid forensic-cop way...

skids bvhjdbsfjasf. speaking what we’re all thinking: is prowl gonna keep showing up in mtmte despite not technically being part of the cast??

swerves drawing of prowl lmaoooo

AND THEN REWIND IN SOME OF MY FAVORITE MTMTE PANELS....fuckgin cracks me up every time god. rewind was rlly about to flip their entire ass table just to demonstrate that prowl is a serial table-flipper...and then he cant even make the table budge and he just stares at his hands like ‘how could you betray me like this’ hvbajkhhsfdhksdf PEAK hilarity

drift hvbshfdjbasdfj his forcibly cheery expression even tho he’s being harassed by rodimus, who is a big whiny toddler w/drift lmao 

rodimus is the type of guy who, upon drift not replying to one of his texts, would post a whole twitter thread being all like ‘these days u cant trust any1 to hav ur back...u think u kno someone and then they just ghost you...(1/14)’

again, rewind, HOW and WHY do you just Have medical reports, oh my god, somebody please call a hipaa agent I’m scared, 

ratchet interrupting the story to give a quick medical PSA....that's Such an on-brand thing for Me to do that I feel like jro is assigning me ratchet kin as I read this

also, hey, its sonic and boom, those two decepticons from delphi! nice little continuity there

AND HERES ORION PAX SUPER COP

can’t believe idw made my dad optimus prime into a cop. smh. shouldn't be that shocked tho, I feel like half the idw characters are cops

orion rlly hit them w/the omae wa mo shinderu arrest strat

orion: I cant believe you're beating this guy up. anyways, now I'm gonna beat YOU up,

when ratchet puts his hand over drifts mouth and then gets spray paint on drifts face bhjdfsvsdjhfgbjdskf

pre-war ratchet and drift ;_; ratchet’s little inspirational speech...the fact that he tells drift that he’s special...the fact that drift remembered all of this even after 4 million+ yrs...it gets me bro it GETS me

ALSO the layers in the fact that drift then goes on to become a well-known murderous decepticon...so this little scene of him and ratchet in the past gives a lot of context to ratchet’s general attitude towards drift - ratchet clearly feels at least somewhat responsible for all the blood on drift’s hands, since he saved drift’s life way back in the day

the whole relinquishment clinic thing is such cool worldbuilding, bc of course that's the kind of thing that would develop in a society of robot aliens who are only allowed to work within the rigid confines of their alt mode 

I love the whole matrix thing bc its kinda like being the pope or st but also you have a ton of political sway, so its a super important position, so of Course the corrupt senate would want full control over that power, and would assassinate the current prime to try to get their own guy in 

god vhbhjsdkbgshjdf rodimus is such a dick lmao poor drift

HHHHH I love that the cybertronian version of an autopsy is taking the dudes body apart into the smallest components and laying them all out. that's so fucking cool

hmmmm chromedome maybe you should Not be interested in mnemology, how about that,

oh god. time to start being sad about op and senator shockwave. oh god

senator shockwave more like senator sexy 

also the first time I read this I thought I had just missed his name and like halfway thru the story I went back and scoured the pages looking for it hbvhsjdfbshgfdsbj then I was like oh ok so we’re maybe supposed to just know who this guy is from another comic? but NOPE it was very deliberate and I only realized very close to the end that they were setting up some sort of reveal

its funny bc normally I'm not a huge fan of stories where politics play a huge role but I fuckgin love it here, the politics and worldbuilding is all so interesting and also balanced out with a healthy dose of cool sci-fi hijinks, so

lmao there's chromedome being obsessed w/people making the ‘pfft’ sound 

also wow yet more hindsight, maybe you Shouldn’t be so interested in the Institute, chromedome, 

OHHHH shit I forgot abt the red alert stuff happening at the same time as this :( :( :( 

AUGHHH what a fucked up situation. god 

oooof i gotta continue now!! what a solid issue, I love the shadowplay arc

#lj rereads mtmte

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo���s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsguild #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts crack #bts fluff #kim namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagines #namjoon fluff #namjoon crack #bangtan #bts fanfic #UGHHGJDHGJ im so slow at writing... its the depretion #hopefully this is good.... maybe who knows #IM GONNA EAT A GRILLED CHEESE NOW

[deadrosencrantz]

doctor who actually making the 19 year old companions act like 19 year olds has been an extremely good move. as a current 19 year old in the U.K., i feel like i'm at least a decent judge of this?

i mostly wanna talk about ryan because i think he's more the type of person I am, yaz also feels real to me but i guess i'll leave that to someone else

so! things about ryan that make me believe he's a dorky loser of my age despite tosin cole being a Real grown-up

he makes vlogs nobody watches

re-friends yaz, gently bullies her ("you just went way down in my opinion, he was punching above his weight")

WHERES THE RELOAD WHEREDS THE RELOAD AAAAAAAAAAA

(but negative points for making him reference call of duty when any REAL 19 year old boy would have referenced halo, ffs the weapons looked straight out of the covenant armoury)

(i assume he was simplifying himself for the benefit of graham who is only capable of remembering 1 (one) video game)

"did you just accidentally pay me a compliment?" "................whatever"

quiet frustration with a baby boomer for trying to force a connection, obvious differences in the way they communicate driving a wedge between them

uses social media and the internet and cares about his phone and nobody around him is a bitch about it because of course he does (i mention this because there's so much TV out there that can't resist taking a cheap shot at "tech-obsessed" youths whenever possible)

emotionally affected by tragedy, desire to respect the dead ("he knew he could die but he still did it anyway" about rahul in e1). that felt like an appeal to milennial/gen z sensibilities imo, like of course compassion is not exclusive to my generation but i feel like there's a lot of young people like me really craving the kind of like, acknowledgement of the human costs of things? i think this is kind of related to

ryan being like, not Socially Conscious, but having absorbed enough life to be Socially Conscious? like big mood, is there anything more late-teens than having some great social and moral ideas but not being exactly sure how to apply them or of relevant historical contexts

he wants fairness but isn't always conscious of how the world works ("tell me you don't get hassle")

also a special shout out for ryan not remembering who rosa parks was but it's not because he's totally ignorant, he just got confused on the details and did still have a good basis of knowledge on the civil rights movement, i love that we aren't going for absolutes

well thought out deadpan humour in front of others ("good, cause i don't eat them"), dorky talking to himself when alone. ("nice one ryan! THANKS RYAN!")

relationship-guruing total strangers (kerblam!) and the specific way he tells graham to shut up when he mentions ryan's similar issue

he doesn't mind when people are different! that's a big deal for the kind of teen i think ryan is being written as, which is to say, not a douchebag. he's grown up knowing human diversity and i think he's felt isolated enough he doesn't ever want to judge others? he accepts flirting from a gay man without being a lil bitch about it (i hate that i have to specify that as a positive but ykno toxic masculinity) and a man giving birth essentially without issue.

idk i just think it's nice that ryan seems to be written for open-minded nerdy kids and young people, and as a good role model of acceptance?

(semi related: i want ryan to be gay or bi more and more with every passing ep but he's likeable as a Woke Straight too)

doesn't hate his disability but has some level of frustration with it that imo is portrayed with enough nuance even in its brief appearances? and because diagnosis is easier these days i think that's a big thing for my gen, having a name for your problem for most of your life and being mostly at peace with it but like, god whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

"SILLY" PLANS THAT WORK!! being playfully judgemental of ppl for not knowing music, hello arachnids in the u.k.

what was it he said, "you have no idea how uncool you sound right now"? that was A+

his sometimes slightly awkward way of speaking, like, speaks to me, as a 19 year old with a developmental disability, and the balance of growing up/finding your feet with being different to your peers

he's used to graham being kind of mean about his dyspraxia but doesn't even really make a big deal of it bc old people just be like that ig

willing to admit mistakes but not to be teased for them by adults (woman who fell to earth, ghost monument, rosa, kerblam)

i know a lot of this is kind of projecty but like, that's what's so good about it!! ryan is close enough to me and my peers that it's possible to read him as one of us!! which is not true of a lot of media youth rep!

i CAN project onto ryan, more easily than with any other character in media

and i didn't know how much i needed that until chibz like, descended upon this show with divine providence

to be clear i'm not saying those traits are exclusive to my generation, just that i see a lot of our generalised attitude to life in ryan and that makes me happy. i see a lot of my life!! shit boi!! also i'm on the bus to uni and very tired so sorry if like literally none of this made sense, tbh this post barely even has a thesis i just wanted to write things i like about ryan

#doctor who #dw spoilers #ryan sinclair #chibnall era #max.txt

[ignaziosearring]

I have a request that isn't xmas or new year's eve themed (it can be tho) it's about the song El Reloj, it is a beautiful song that I love so much from the boys. It is in Spanish so I don't know if it is possible. I like your imagines very much!! Specially the Ignazio ones🙈

This is not where i explain why i have been so silent over the past few months. This is where i announce that I’VE MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUCH AND I’VE MISSED WRITING SOOO MUCH! Hopefully, I’ll be much more active from now on as i try to balance everything with uni.

I have been writing this story for about 4 months, going on and off, deleting and starting again. It’s *too* long, like 1600ish long, but i think it needed this length. The topic is a *bit* dramatic (trigger warning), bc you know me😇. Also please allow me to dedicate it to my uncle who passed away on Sunday bc of cancer.

I’M BACK PEOPLE PASS IT ON! LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT!

Xx

~•~

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The transparent liquid was falling in drops from the IV bag to a small cylinder. The drops were synchronized with the shrill beeping sound coming from the heart monitor. The door opened and let a cold breeze sweep inside the room. It took a worryingly high amount of energy to lift my hands and rub my arms. It took more time too. The bones felt heavy and numb. The side effects of morphine. At least the pain was bearable, even for the ultimate hours.

“Are you cold?”

Gianluca had come inside. The glass window reflected his tired figure. His eyes were red and swollen, a sign he had been crying again. Before reaching this stage I would have thought this as an oxymoron. Gianluca was healthy, young and beautiful. He would live a long and happy life. He wasn’t dependent on anyone or anything. He wasn’t in constant and unstoppable pain. He wasn’t counting down the remaining months, days, hours. He didn’t see the last glimmers of hope wash away in one frown of a doctor. Yet he was the one crying.

“Let me cover you.”

His moves were careful and balanced, as always.

“They’re trying to tackle the heat wave with the air conditioning.”

Smalltalk. He was poorly attempting -and failing- to avoid the issue that had risen a barrier between us the past two weeks. He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. I observed him carefully in silence. His body was tense as he sat down on the chair beside me.

Then, I turned my head to the window again and were confronted with my miserable reality. A body that was fighting itself. Flesh ashen, paler than a ghost, lanced here and there for various medical exams, hanging on bones. A red scarf was covering the bald head. Soul and mind twisted by a sickness that had come all too quickly to end a life in its blooming days. I couldn’t recognize myself in that reflection. I was long gone. The word “terminal” had been vibrating in my ears and hunting me in my nightmares every night.

“There’s no moon tonight. Only the stars.”

He too had turned his gaze to the window. I glanced at the sky and realized that stars would start falling soon. That special night of every year. The magnificent phenomenon that ten years ago had become the reason we had met.

“Gian.”

Our eyes met momentarily for the first time in a long while.

“Don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“Wish that the medicine won’t work.”

His initial surprise was replaced by guilt.

“You haven’t made peace with my decision, Gian.”

I wasn’t angry, on the contrary I was smiling understandingly at him.

“Wha- why do you say that?”

He was stuttering and nervously running his fingers through his hair, like a young boy caught doing a mischief.

“You were crying, you can’t stand looking at me for more than two seconds and you’re trying to avoid talking about it by making damn smalltalk. You are angry.”

The outburst that followed was exactly what I was hoping for. I knew him better than anyone, he always bottled up his feelings and let them torment him. I didn’t want to leave him in anger along with everything else.

He jumped up and kicked his chair hard, fresh tears already visible.

“Of course I’m angry! Tonight I have to say goodbye to the love of my life! I’m angry at God, the universe or whatever it is that is out there. How can they be so cruel? Who gave them the right to do this to you? To us? It shouldn’t have been like that. We should have been old, very old, with grandchildren or even great grandchildren. You are too young to die.”

The raised voice and rapid flow of speech, the spitting of words gave their place to a sorrowful whisper.

“It’s too soon to say goodbye.”

He had slid down the door and had folded his body, his face buried in his hands.

“Gian, I know it’s not only that you are angry with. Say it. It will liberate you. It will liberate me.”

He raised his face slowly and gazed at me. His look was filled with regret, wrath, sorrow, pain. His lips were pouted.

“No.”

His answer was firm now.

“I don’t want to fight in our last day.”

“And I don’t want to go without making things right between us.”

A piercing look was enough to convince him to sit again beside me.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m angry at you? Yes, (y/n), I am angry at you, here, you have it. You, you gave up. On yourself, on our relationship, on me.”

“I didn’t. I am not giving up right now. This medicine is not giving up”, I pointed at the IV.

“If I had given up we would have been having this conversation 6 months ago. I didn’t give up when the doctor said terminal, nor when he said that all I had left was eight painful, excruciating, humiliating, inhumane months. I didn’t give up when the first clinical trial you managed to get me on failed. Nor the second, the third, the forth. I didn’t give up even though the only thing I gained from those trials was more pain, all while losing my mind cell by cell. I did it for you. I saw the determination in your expression to prove the doctors wrong, the sleep deprived eyes that had spent innumerable nights going through research by research, the contacts with pioneer oncologists from all around the world to get me on their trials or suggest a different, more promising medical plan.”

Speaking for that long was exhausting and made me burst into coughs. His look softened and became worried as he gave me some water.

“Then why are you doing this now? Even if we couldn’t get you on another clinical trial, we would still have two months, just the two of us. We would go home, spend those two months together. We would have more time!”

His voice came out as an exasperated whisper. One last hopeless beg.

“We wouldn’t.”

I was firm. I looked him in the eyes and finally spoke my truth.

“You need to understand Gian. This is not me. This is not the (y/n) you met, fell in love with and married.”

He tried to stop me but I raised my palm firmly and continued decisively.

“I can’t even bear to look at my reflection on the window. And when I do, when I do I can barely recognize myself in there. Do you think it’s easy for me? Don’t you think I want more time? I wanted to grow old with you and bear your children. I wanted to achieve all the dreams I had ever since I can remember myself. God knows how hard I wish for more time. Even when I signed that paper. Even now. But not like this. This is something I can’t keep going through.”

“(Y/n)…”

He burst iinto tears. The body mechanism to get one’s pain roll down and wipe away. I started crying too. He understood. I knew he understood, otherwise he wouldn’t have let himself pull apart in front of me. He knew I had to do it.

“It’s better this way Gian. I know it’s already painful enough for you to see me wash away all these months. This will save you at least some pain. You’ll see me go down sane enough. A good comander knows when they’ve lost the war, isn’t this what they’re saying?”

He chuckled and took a deep breath to gain his composure.

“Come here lay beside me.”

We laid on our sides and hungrily looked each other in the eyes. Our sobs were quieting down.

“Gian”, i began, “I want you to promise me something.”

His expression darkened again.

“Don’t say it.”

“Listen to me. I know it hurts but you need to. After tonight you’ll be alone. I don’t want grief to blind you. Take your time to cry, to unleash the emotions that are meddling with your mind. But don’t waste this gift you were so graciously given. Don’t let your life perish. Live Gian. Do you remember my favourite movie?”

“Dead poets’ society…”

“Professor Keating fought to teach those children to seize the day, Gian. All the nights I couldn’t sleep because of the pain I’d go back in time and realise that i let so many days go by in vain. Our worst sin is that we think we are immortal. We always think there will be enough time to do everything we want, someday. But there comes a time that you are faced with the fact that you can’t. It’s too late. The clock is running out of battery and will stop ticking soon. All you have accomplished seems too little, all your dreams become missed opportunities, just because you thought you would achieve them later. There is no «later», Gian, only «now».”

I touched his cheek where a tear was rolling down.

“Don’t let my memory hunt you. Remember me with love, treasure our moments, but move on.”

“I… I can’t,” he mumbled, looking away, “you are the one for me.”

“I can’t be, Gian. You are the one for me, but I’m not. Otherwise this wouldn’t be happening. Somewhere out there is a very lucky girl that will capture your heart. And I will be more than happy when you meet her.”

He closed his eyes tightly to fight his tears.

“Don’t die with me tonight, Gian. Just promise me this.”

He didn’t say anything. He just nodded with his eyes still closed.

For me, it was enough.

He hugged me and helped me turn around. Like the past 10 years, we looked at the exploding stars leaving their last mark on the universe. I made one wish. I felt free. And then…

Salvation.

#imagines #il volo imagines #il volo #gianluca ginoble #song imagines

[annanicole2004-blog]

yeah i think im gonna start using this dead website mostly for journaling purposes and having a place to put my thoughts on a public forum (as public as my literally 4 mutual followers is) i know that theres a private setting but the fact that anyone can see and maybe relate to what i post is somewhat comforting to me and maybe it will be for them too who knows

i asked for donations on facebook today. I shouldn’t feel bad but i do. everyone is struggling, everyone knows college is expensive and life is expensive. I like being independent and paying my own way, and I don’t really like asking for help with money things. I like having my own money but I also like having the time/energy to pass all my classes. Its a frustrating balance. I got about $30 so far from friends. I shouldn’t feel guilty because I know the world ought to be kinder and everyone struggles from time to time, and I wouldn’t hesitate to give a friend a little extra money if they needed it. I don’t think I really want to be dead, but I do think about not being born a lot. I think about things ive bought that I don’t really need. Times I went out instead of finishing something for a class. I wish I were more responsible, less impulsive, less scatter brained. I wish I didn’t feel like I was moving in slow motion all the time. I wish I didn’t sit in restaurants spacing out for hours at a time because i cant tune out the static in my head. People are very patient with me and I want to be better. I’m a shitty communicator and I have low self esteem and most of the time I can’t really seem to get much work done. Dealing with me is probably the most frustrating thing. I’ve got a lot of great ideas and potential and if I could pull it together I could be a really successful person. I think things will be better once I graduate, but also a lot of opportunities will no longer be there once I’m feeling more focused/less emotionally vulnerable and that makes me kind of sad. I try not to be hard on myself for taking 6 years to graduate bc ive spent enough time torturing myself as it is. Its wasted mental energy. I could be spending that energy thinking of ideas for projects. I can’t give power to these thoughts that I have.

I wish I could forget I ever met This One Person who im going to refer to as Person bc this is th’internet. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind all of their toxic shit out of my brain. I hate that I dwell on it so much but a lot of things just were so messy and it was never resolved, and I feel like I can’t talk about it with people without them getting tired of it. Person was a sexual predator and i thought they cared for me but it was a manipulation tactic and that’s what i need to get thru my self destructive triflin ass brain. I like to see the good in people and I put my trust in people I shouldn’t. I guess maybe now I know better....right? I used to think my vulnerability was a good thing but now im not sure. I wonder if I’m just weak. Everyone loves a bad bitch who never catches feelings. Nobody wants to see her cry. I wish I was like her too. I wish I didn’t have fantasies of hitting Person with my car.

I can’t think about sex without wanting to cry anymore. I masturbate to memories of sex with Person, and I feel so pathetic. I knew I liked them but I didn’t know what to do with those feelings. I dont think I even want a relationship? im so confused.... I was hurt when they didnt have the same feelings, but wanted to fuck me ??? I felt like a hole. They were on top of me telling me how damaged they were from catching feelings for another girl, like could you maybe wait until u aren’t inside me?????? asshole !!!!!!!!!!!maybe casual sex just isnt my thing and i should stop trying to pretend it is. I was so angry and confused and I think for valid reasons but idk. i was so desperate and pathetic. idk whats wrong with my brain. Im so confused. I wish I was more free with my sexuality, but I can’t remember the last time I felt good about sex. When I used sex as self harm I literally fucked strangers just so I could feel wanted. I wasn’t even attracted to most of them, and the sex was often terrible. It was boring !!! But I felt like that’s what I deserved. I deserved whatever stds I got from fucking random strangers from craigslist. It sounds horrible when I type it out but that’s the truth. I don’t know where I got such bad self-esteem. I look outside myself and I know its holding me back but I don’t know how to stop it. I think its bc I’m still so dependent on my worth as a person being determined by my attractiveness to ppl. I’d like to move on from that, seems a little juvenile. I’d like to stop comparing myself to other girls. I wish I could visit a sex therapist who could break down all this phobia I have and make everything make more sense. I’d like to enjoy sex in my life but I always catch feelings that I wish I could just turn off. Person told me that I feel everything too much. I hate them and I wish I didn’t believe that. I know myself and I think I feel things in perfectly normal proportions, I’m just not as good at hiding them. so dont police my feelings asshole. regardless, they had a point. If I could turn them off I would. Fucking prick. Fucking predatory, asshole prick that doesn’t deserve my presence. The time will come when I never think of them again and I pray that day arrives soon.

Theres things I do like about myself. I’m funny. I’m independent. In some ways, I’m quite brave. I take risks. I’m always gentle. I listen and I want my friends to trust me and get strength from me, bc this world is a goddamn shitshow and everyone needs a little help. I know I have to survive in this world being genuine to who I am, even if everything around me tries to break that down. I’m not going to let it. I know I do things a little differently and it doesn’t make sense to people, but I think I’m capable of so much. I’ve lived through lots of trauma and its given me a lot of pain and probs part of what keeps me from functioning normally but its also what makes me strong. And fuck everyone else, crying and being real about how u feel is strength. And soon, after 6 goddamned years of suffering, I’m gonna graduate. And I’m proud of myself for making it thru 6 years of scraping by working part time and taking classes with fuckhead professers and dealing with this backwards ass university profiting off my struggle. I’m gonna have a fucking BFA that I worked for and achieved. I’m gonna live and thrive, which is more than I can say for Person !!!!!! 

[confessions-haikyuu]

If it's not to much trouble, I really liked the idea of the demigod!reader and a human idea that was mentioned earlier. Could you perhaps write a scenario of that, but not too angsty only at the beginning and a super fluffy end? With the character Akaashi, if not a character from Karasuno. Thank you in advance!

AKAASHI (I’m sorry if this one is a lil’ angsty/cheesy… I really tried to balance it out with some fluff ahhhh)!

[Reader’s POV]

Again. Again and again he would be reborn.

He would leave me in this forgotten state of loneliness with nothing but my memories of our relationship, his being, his whole soul that hid in his handsome looks and calm personality. Askaashi lied dead in his body… again. And again I would chase after him. Being a demigod, I am immortal, and his kind - humans- are out of my reach… I can’t blame him for that. And once again, fate has kept us apart.

Not anymore. I will wait. Even if it takes forever. Even if it takes a thousand lives.

[Akaashi’s POV]

I dreamed of your gentle touch. Your soft voice but very loud laughter echoing around in my head. I dreamed of a face, a very pretty face that masked a kind being. A being who mocked me for being so blunt but approved me of my humbleness. You feel so familiar, but who are you?

Isn’t it sad I’ve forgotten about you?

“Y/N?”

[Reader’s POV]

I will wait. Even if it takes forever. Even if it takes a thousand lives. And that’s exactly what I did.

I chased and watched his soul forever and waited through so many lives. Finally, and not ever again, will I let him go. I have found Akaashi.

I made my way down to the human world after not doing so for many years, trying to reconnect with Akaashi. In this life, he was a skilled setter for a powerhouse volleyball team, and he’s still the same as ever: wavy black hair framing his bored, attractive face, a tall, toned body, and the same calm, blunt, modest human I came to adore.

~

It was night, his eyes tired and his forehead scrunched up in ponderment. He was wearing his high school, Fukurodani, volleyball jacket with his hands placed in his pockets. Akaashi was walking home from volleyball practice, and I was following closely behind on the sidewalk. I could feel the warmth of his soul radiate from his body, and I instantly remembered the way it made me feel inside; though he was human, and I demigod, it felt right… our beings becoming one, being linked to one another other than just dreams, but by reality too. I needed to talk to him, for him to remember me, for us to permanently build something together. But how do I do this? How do I say ‘I’m your demigod soul mate even though you don’t remember’? How do I say ‘I’ve been following your soul around this whole time’? How do I say ‘I love you’?

Should I let him go?

Not noticing how loud I was walking, Akaashi turned around to see who was following him like that… And there he was right before me- staring. I couldn’t say anything, unsure and scared of what to say, so I stopped walking and waited for Akaashi to do something. He looked at me for a long time, skeptical of who I was (maybe trying to scare me off), and then his eyes became softer, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothed out, his smile became softer but more hopeful. He approached me, walking quietly towards my standing figure.

He remembered.

Akaashi stood before me, slowly closing the distance.

‘This is right,’ Akaashi confirmed in his thoughts.

He gently grasped my face and placed his lips upon mine for only a few seconds. As he pulled away, he inhaled my scent, and his eyes bore into mine. No matter how many times, we’ve done this, it always still feels like the first, and it definitely won’t be the last. He let out a small laugh of relief.

“Y/n,�� he said just to make sure this was real.

At this point, my eyes couldn’t contain the salt water being stored behind my eyelids.

Is this what humans call crying? After waiting forever, after waiting a thousand lives, is this what it feels like to be happy?

He took my hand in his, blushing and reassuring me instead of being quiet like usual, and we continued to walk together down the sidewalk. It was completely silent, a comfortable silence, until he promised me he wouldn’t forget about me in any of his lives.

After this night, we began to restart our adventures together every single day, and this time, I wasn’t sad about the amount of time I can spend with him… only because I found a way to make him immortal. And, obviously, I made him immortal very quickly, and because of that, we can watch the universe for all eternity.

Akaashi is still the same Akaashi: wavy black hair framing his bored, attractive face, a tall, toned body, and the same calm, blunt, modest demigod I adore, and he adores me back.

-Even if we don’t end up in the same lives, I won’t forget you because time and time again, I know you won’t forget me. No matter what life. Even if it takes forever. Even if it takes a thousand.-

[I feel like I rushed this one, and I feel like I did a bad job on this one, so I will edit it later. I really hope you like this! I worked so hard on it, especially after my computer kept crashing and deleting it! I like this idea though!]

TSUKISHIMA (this one isn’t as angsty bc idk i just idk SORRY)!

[Reader’s POV]

I guess you could say being a demigod had its benefits; you’re immortal, you have your own separate realm, you have powers, YOU HAVE THE ULTIMATE COMEBACKS AGAINST TSUKISHIMA KEI, and let’s not forget the weight of unbearable loneliness as you can never nurture proper love with a human you come to have feelings for. As a bored demigod, I often watch the different souls that roam the human world because humans interest me more than the idiots running the heavens up here do. One soul particularly stood out to me, and that was the shit-head Tsukishima Kei, who in this life, was on a rising volleyball team located in Japan. Why would a demigod like me be interested in a puny human like Tsukishima? For starters, he keeps me entertained; when I visit the human world, I go see him, and I like to listen to his sardonic comments on people. Plus, it is just fun to figure out who he is as a person because he isn’t very open about things. Though he’s so cold, I know he cares a lot, especially about his friend Yamaguchi. His motivations in life also keep me on edge; his philosophies change every volleyball match, and so many people can influence him. I hope in another life he is able to play volleyball because I know he has fun with it even if he thinks male volleyball is ‘just a club.’

To be honest, I like Tsukishima more than a friend… does he even consider me his friend? He has dreams about me I know that, and I know there’s no point in me liking someone who is A. human and B. doesn’t like me back. I’m just tired of feeling lonely like this; you’d think you would be so lucky and cool being a demigod, but it’s just so lifeless. I can’t be with a god or goddess, I don’t like any of these other careless demigods. Heck, am I even supposed to find a lover? I sometimes think I am more human than demigod… though humans are ignorant, foolish, and destructive, they are also passionate, inspiring, and exciting, and that’s what I want to be. If I were to join hearts with a human, I would become mortal, and since I’ve been alive for so long, I wouldn’t really mind experiencing a final life of a mortal; I just want change.

~

“Tsukishima,” I called.

He made an annoyed grunting sound in which I rolled my eyes to.

“Am I your friend?” I asked boldly, knowing that if I messed up, I can just return back to my realm.

“Tch, I obviously hang around you, so what do you think?” he retorted.

“What about best friends?” I’m pushing myself way too hard.

He didn’t answer and instead sighed while shoving his hands in his pants pockets, still continuing to walk close to my side.

“What about lov-” I was cut short by Tsukishima’s words.

“Y/N, if you’re trying to confess to me, you’re miserably failing,” he stated coldly, not caring about how I’d feel.

I stopped walking.

“Tsukishima,” I very seriously whispered.

“I want to be mortal… and I can’t do that without associating with a human.”

I took a deep breath, waiting for him to comment on my words. He looked as if he was deep in thought. I honestly couldn’t tell what he was going to do. He was so unpredictable sometimes.

“Alright,” he mumbled.

“You mean you’ll-?” I asked impatiently.

“Yes, you’re cool I guess,” he said in an irritable tone with a slight smirk. “Just promise to buy me Strawberry Short Cake every once and awhile and maybe I’ll hold your hand if you don’t bother me too much, mortal.”

“I DIDN’T KNOW TSUKISHIMA HAD A HEART- HE’S MY SHIT HEAD NOW!” I yelled excited to start my new life once everything was official.

“Ugh, baka (idiot),” he called me. I knew he meant it, but I also knew he meant well.

[I like this one bc it’s much more chill but it feels rushed and I feel like I missed some details. Again, thank you for requesting! I hope you’re all doing well! Please feel free to request again! I promise to get better!]

#hq #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #akaashi keiji #tsukishima kei #karasuno #fukurodani #demigod

[kkukkung]

Im crying in the school bathroom rn I seriously love wonho so much I'm in pain why is he my ideal guy in every way he's so amazing and handsome and sweet but whO CARES BEVause he don't kno me haha am I right

big mood all the time im always in pain bc he rly................ doesn’t KNOW i would let him shave off my eyebrows if he wanted 2

tardy replies as usual under the cut!

(sorted from oldest to newest)

I wouldn't even care if wonho was a high maintenance boyf tbh I'd just sit and comb his hair all day and tell him he's pretty

hdjkfh this was so long ago but i think i was mostly kidding abt him being a high maintenance bf... like he would do so much giving? but i guess the only thing he’d need is constant reassurance that his s/o loves him imo jfdhgjk... i also think he’d b someone who either doesn’t settle down ever or does it very late in his life!

annie 🌹literary queen ❤️ literally crowned with a laurel wreath! not be drum attic but this midsummer nights monsta au is so!!!! give me sistar as the four star crossed lovers then drag me to h*ll and give me this doctor faustus au i'm itching for with kihyun as faustus and k.will as mephistopheles bc i love to watch my faves s*ffer but don't let me rip until i get my much ado about nothing au with the entire cast of starship ent and a lil cameo from giriboy!

(in refence to this monsta x as shakespearean archetypes ask!) fjdshgkjs shh i lov u... why is k will as mephistopheles so Accurate esp no.mercy k will lmao. um u should write all of these? in fact if... if anyone has mx literary aus.... hmu...... i’ll n*t

another thing about that incident is that it seems like the fan doesn't think Changkyun and Jooheon undersood them?? (an extension i guess they assumed they don't understand english very well) and that's pretty problematic. it seems to me that when they didn't respond the fan assumed they didn't understand and kept repeating it, as a joke. but they literally did That to the two with the most proficient english in the group... it's rly a mess all around. it's disrespectful through and through

(in relation to that gross “d*ddy” incident from a while ago) ik i feel like some intl fans think korea is a land completely culturally and linguistically alienated/divorced from the rest of the world or something and while cultural relativism is real to some extent... the idea that koreans are completely unaware of ~outside~ things is deeply racist. like mostly white ppl think that diasphoric poc are completely Different from them? when my mum went to the states 15 years ago some ppl literally asked her if there were newspapers in china lol...

i just randomly thought of monsta x as sesame street characters mostly bc i wanna see kihyun and wonho duke it out as bert and ernie (kihyun w/ the waste paper bin on his head and wonho asking 'where's the waste paper bin' and kihyun saying 'ask me that again and look into my eyes') and also minhyuk being elmo tbh...

JKGHKJDF PLEASe!!!! when will something like this b photoshopped... minhyuk as elmo is... spot on... i remember once elmo appeared on a now-discontinued late night talk show program i used to watch when i was in primary school and he was like “elmo likes wasabi, that’s why elmo has no eyebrows” and idk why ive never been able to forget this????? very lmh. also this made me think of a monsta x muppets au n minhyuk is the pic of ass-gape kermit.... next post of mine will b monsta x as kermit reaction pics

Hyungkyun is such an under appreciated ship. Like, they just get each other so well? Why do people overlook it. ㅠ.ㅠ Do you have a moment that made you ship them? How would you describe their dynamic?

it’s bc they’re intp x intj they don’t rly... Understand each other with minimal effort/real communication lmao it’s very efficient. both quiet lil darlings who aren’t emotionally That Open but enjoy their own little space together sometimes?? their dynamic is like... they’re weird in different ways but they’re v chill together. u can tell hyungwon is super fond of changkyun like he has this Expression when ck does anything at all.... i think these two rly love each other’s personalities bc they’re both kind/gentle/peaceful types and their overall ?? vibe is just highly compatible... they’re absolute darlings... v soft together... i can’t think of a favourite moment but i rly rly love their birthday messages for each other last year like changkyun’s message for hyungwon was like “ur rly cool bruh ur rly such a great person” and hyungwon’s message for changkyun was rly... just him obviously doting on him n finding him cute jksfdhg i lov them a lot :(

soyou: i know how to make hair pretty :))) knetz: dirty fckn iljin why can't she be out there being being PRODUCTIVE in society by having babies and learning how to be a good wife for her future husband ://// smh how dare she be successful now when i'm stuck doing what society wants me to do but also anonymously attacking ppl i don't personally know on the internet bc THATS respectable the irony of ugly knetz is so transparent

The whole thing about Knetz and wonho's "scandalous" past reminded me of something. As a PSA to those people who are so insistent and pushy that idols aren't allowed to have sex/date/be anything but straight: Fuck all of you. You do not own these people, and if you really cared about them you'd be happy if they were happy. Like tbh, if anyone that famous and busy could also balance out a relationship at the same time, I'd be so happy for them. It really bugs me how all idols are supposed (1/2)(2/2) have this squeaky clean innocent image where they have to look and act a certain way and have these stupid fucking dating bans because once they don't meet up to that image their success suffers. Idols already give up so much privacy, and the last thing they need is millions of people scrutinizing every little thing they do. I don't even know where I started this rant from, but basically, GIVE IDOLS PRIVACY AND DONT JUDGE THEM FOR THEIR PASTS OR FOR BEING IN RELATIONSHIPS OR WHATEVER

yeth ty for highlighting the gross obsession w purity and productivity (like the first anon said -- a very confucian sort of ideal)... i don’t rly have anything else to add here i think. also i would fight for soyou i fact i would fight lmh who said she was his ideal type in no.mercy era... she’s rly one of my faves and the way she was slandered for the hairdressing thing was one of the most ridiculous things knets ever did lmao honestly yuk

u a kihyun stan now👀👀👀

im a @fhiz​ stan it’s the same thing tbh

ahh so i saw your tags on that jh gifset! as one of the few jh stans (or maybe there are way more than i think there are lol) i rly love his "reversal charm." he has a lot of what i lack as a person: a strong presence and a lot of confidence! i respect him so much as a person alth i rag on him a lot LMAO. sorry if this is a bit long winded but i just rly wanted to put this out there ;;

this is rly cute i lov hearing ppl talk abt their faves lovingly it rly... Heals Me. i think it’s strange how underappreciated jooheon is in this fandom especially bc he’s usually the one who catches ur eye first bc he’s so hyped by starship as being a one-in-a-million talented rapper u know? and he rly shines in mvs and no.mercy but............. y does he have the least fansites jkfhdg ?? you’re v right abt the reversal charm thing but i feel like sometimes it’s very overdone like... on lots of shows he’s asked to do aegyo when rly he should be asked to... idk... rap or dance or something?? i actually think jooheon is the most serious member of monsta x sometimes bc he seems to have a sense that he’s.. the pillar of mx if that makes sense? and that’s why he’s always pushing himself and working tirelessly like he feels very Responsible for this group, more than anyone else. idk if that makes sense!!! i love him and i want him to... unwind a bit bc sometimes he looks so stressed and tired but he still feels the need to pretend to be energetic like my heart rly hurts for him :/ this got so emo im sry i do rly love to hear that u respect him sm i love jooheon stans :(

i can see what u mean about jooheon being 1 of the most masculine. (iirc u also talked abt kihyun being that in a post a while ago) like with his face and his physique he really is striking; his body=like that slim,upside-down Y that you'd learn to draw men w/ in Anatomy 101 , but i think.. ,--not that u asked, but,, i think the jury's still out on if he's comfortable w his masculinity with the way he acts feminine lyk misogynistic comedians Can sound like dead ringers for women,? idk & i take +

(not sure if there was a 2nd part to this? there’s nothing else in my inbox so i’m sry if there was and tumblr ate it) yeth i think i meant that his demeanor is the most ~~masculine~~ whereas i think kihyun is still the most... idk... mature-masculine?? if tht makes sense, and i definitely agree w u on that second point! i didn’t think of that at the time but now that i... do... think abt it... ur right and also the way he comes back from it by putting on the >swag demeanor again in an attempt to polarise it is definitely a bit 👀👀👀 he probably doesn’t want to risk his Manly Rapper Image for real u kno? that said it’s ingrained in kpop that behaving cute --> “girly” entails that sort of “comedic” high-pitched voice + compact body language etc.... like i’m not condoning that ofc but i definitely think it’s broader than this particular case! :/ hm

maybe i'd be doing better in school if i could major in kihyunology ;~; i stan him but i def think we still don't know much about him even after all this time after debut. especially when i look at him compared to wonho who wears his heart on his sleeve (bless him i love wonho sm, gotta protect this bun at all costs!!)...but ya it just makes me wanna learn more about him like who is the real kihyun??

i want to write a kihyun meta when i have time... i feel like i Get him a bit more these days but it’s also very hard to put into words bc u kno when u kinda sorta mb get some1 but it’s a feeling rather than anything conveniently expressable gkjdhfjk.... idk if anyone wants to send in some Kihyun Thoughts + Meta feel free! :>> i don’t think he’s actually... as complex as we sometimes make him out to be lol like his behaviour is actually kind of predictable? more on his later

wait is the february comeback actually true? ugh i'm so conflicted cuz on one hand i'm excited if there's really gonna be a full length album, but i also think they need more rest but then there's the matter of getting their first win and idk i'm super psyched but i'm also worried that the boys are being overworked

i still feel like they had a comeback like yesterday lol like looking at their schedules stresses me out bc they do so much..... im glad wonho got to go to his mum’s cafe recently tho! all we can do is have faith in them rn and when it’s time... stream, buy things if ur able to, spread the news and the hype etc. i am definitely Worried abt some things like the competition they’re up against but.... gotta have faith u kno... and i feel like all active idols are kind of... permanently worked very hard but i think currently only jooheon and shownu are a bit Overloaded. also has the date been confirmed yet... it’s february already...

#i planned 2 answer more but im... sleepy... #soon... i will... catch up... and make this blog neater + more navigation-friendly #ask #compilation #Anonymous

[ts-2020-olympics]

Episode 12 - “Jacob’s Squirrel Brain Took Over” - Nicole

Alright, so for starters, Karen was voted out last round, everything worked out for us newbies, but really did not expect Karen to get that many votes.   If I knew Karen was getting that manh votes, I would have informed Tommy about the Karen vote too.  Definitely thought was going to be a closer vote though, then also had that glass idol played so everyone knows who voted who.   Now for this round, not sure on what plans are, but I think Nicole and Kevin are my biggest threats, as I find they both have a fair amount of connections, and are also decent in challenges.   Only thing is that, could be tough getting the votes to get rid of either of them this round, do it might have to wait, just don't want to wait too long.   Anyways, hopefully I survive and make final 11!

Screw them all! At this point I'm a solo person I don't trust anyone, but this game makes you have to trust people so I'm going with my intuition and instead of thinking long-term at the moment I need to think what will save me this round and at this point I believe the newbies will be reluctant to vote another newbie out, the second swap Miraitowa are working together, and Kevin has a lotta pre-game relationships which is why his name even though it was thrown out died really quick last tribal. This leaves Jacob, Nicole, and Myself and obviously I don't want to go home and between Jacob and Nicole I think Jacob has better interests in-store for me plus getting rid of Nicole gets rid of another winner so if I do survive this round it's better and more people voiced to me worry about Nicole being a threat. I do realize I'll be putting the second swap Sonkei in the minority but at this point I don't care it's all about self-preservation and I still have a HUGE chance at going home tonight so as long as it ain't me I'm fine with voting wherever.

By the grace of our Lord And Savior Jordan Pines, I’m still here and not in as bad as a spot as I really could be. I voted with the majority, Jacob’s squirrel brain took over the reigns of his big brain and he didn’t. Jordan used a vote revealer on all of us and we all got a fun little surprise when Jacob voted for Sammy.   Now my gut told me not to use my advantage last round and it was right.  This round it’s a little more complicated. I worry about Jacob if I go, he really is a good ally to have because he is (seemingly) more loyal as the rounds go on. Sammy and I have mended a little bit of trust. I’ve decided maybe I’d vote for him at the end but maybe not. He’d have to be sitting next to Stoner and Eve or Sarah and Emma , some mix of that to really get my vote. Anyone else and I’m voting them. I really hope Darcy gets to the end with Kevin that’d be a good f2 scenario. I’d vote for Darcy, I think most people would vote for Kevin. I’m not even entertaining the idea I get to the end. It just seems like too impossible of a possibility at this point. But, tides my change and who knows. Either way, back to the game and tonight’s tribal. I’m going to try to get an idea of where the votes are going. They might split between Jacob and I but it’s early in the day. If they need me for the vote idk what I’m gonna do. I really truly have no clue. What I could do is try to get a lot of votes on me, skip tribal and leave them scrambling, when they scramble the majority is already solid and they have to decide who their counter vote is. I feel bad because I want to work with Kevin badly but our connection is dimming just a bit in the midst of I think, both of us finding better paths to the end. I think voting out Karen kind of shook up our plans so, I don’t know. I still hope if I can’t pull out a win he can. Check back later when more is happening, toodles. 

I saw a hawk today. It was a fat hawk. It was a good day. 

Bro fuck Nicole 

This round, Basically I think Nicole is a clown, i dont wanna speak to her, and if she idols someone out, BYE like shes going next week anyways, might as well pass ur idol onto someone who can use it, its my fault you're ass is built like a fucking HOUSE. BRICK. MOTHER. FUCKING. WALL. I just want her to go, and i wanna wave bye as she leaves this island, BUT SHE CAN IDOL I DONT CARE BECAUSE I KNOW SHES NOT WINNING THIS GAME P E R I O D. shes gone next week anyways

I just set off a bomb oh my goodness. I did not want Nicole to go it doesn’t make sense for me to lose Nicole over someone like Jacob or Kevin or Tommy or Darcy right now so of course I told her name was going around. I’m not gonna compromise my agenda for someone else’s, not if I really see a benefit in keeping Nicole and I do.  Now everyone is fighting and no one knows it’s all cause I set off a catalyst this round. I’m worried I may be over extending myself strategically and it might catch up with me, but I’m not gonna stop till it does, this is my game to lose and I’m having a blast!

I am trying to balance my allegiance to nicole while she's on her deathbed so she doesnt blow up at me and expose me while also carrying for this newborn baby that is my allegiance to caeleb/sammy/eve who i want to work with long term but i simply cant just drop nicole, my full grown rebellious child, because i have a new baby? you know, like i love all my children but some need more attention at different times in their life. I just hope that I can survive this vote and really be able to distance myself from nicole even though shes STILL gonna be here the next round. But after that she is pretty dead in the water unless she wins immunity, which she found an advantage in so thats GREAT, i really have no idea whats gonna happen right now 

Sparknotes: I’m so pissed that Nicole would ruin my game like that. It’s a game I get it, and I get that she wants to ruin another persons game on the way out. Caeleb is playing an idol on me even tho i don’t think I need it. Eve is amazing. Kevin is amazing. Jordan is amazing. Caeleb is amazing. Jacob is okay but this game just don’t trust him anymore. Emma is sweet. I don’t talk too much with tommy Darcy Sarah or stoner. I’m just over this round and frustrated. Why me? Nicole stirred the pot but she’s the one getting burned.

*this is a wrap up of my last confessional that I’m writing during tribal bc I’m not there* So I used the tribal skip and honestly I’m not even happy about it. I tried to take heat off of Kevin and Jacob by saying stuff about Sammy and Eve but they made it so personal. This game isn’t fun because of them, every time I try to do something they go absolutely too far. Bunch of bullies. I think it hurts because personally I always felt they were alright but now? I don’t know. Just rude. I have no faith in the rounds ahead, and if I go it’ll probably at least I won’t have to try to claw my way into a somewhat okay position. I’m just tired all around I really wish Eve’s ego wasn’t so pronounced that they didn’t think they were actually doing something by attacking my mental health because you know what? I’m not doing well. But I still like to play these games as much as everyone else and I don’t think mental illness has to be called into question. It’s a fucking online game for 40 dollars, get your head out of your ass. 

#zestypowerfuluniqueflavorfulhealthy #confessionals