#bc your grandpa is fucking dying and then your grandma will be fucking dying just like your dad your stepdad your everything else

[tchotchkez]

mmmmmm, 💀

[floofyfluff]

4:18 am summary of me taking a holiday/snow day shift for extra pay. since i have officially finished with my day job as of 1 pm. is that:

cw death and just like. literally every day i desire to kill the concept of god more

i am a moron. how did i forget where i came from in 6 months. it's so cold and its december which means that everyone is dying. 🎶 its the most wonderful time of the year 🎶 the hap-happiest season of all!!!🎶

god does not exist and he does not love you and i wish you would stop giving him credit for work the rest of us are doing. while blaming us for everything else. i GET that you're devastated i DO but hm i guess actually its my fault i didn't see your grandma's atherosclerosis 3 years ago. thanks. yeah its my fault shes dead. i would really love for a medic to show up but unfortunately they're all busy with the people who might be salvageable right now. a doctor??? LMA fucking O that's not going to help. no amount of epi would help here. i'm breaking ribs as a performance rn. my partner has been here for 2 weeks i've never met her before she's visibly developing a panic disorder. she could be more helpful but also it doesn't matter so whatever. i'm just sitting here until med control can call official tod. which they should have called an appropriate crew here to do before we got here. no shockable rhythm here this is exclusively to make you feel better. which i cannot stress enough i would be very willing to do bc i have done worse things for 2 min cycles but you're telling me that it's my fault this happened while im sobbing so honestly. lay off. or die i guess. whichever comes first.

god does not exist he does not love you and if he does exist he in fact thinks its funny that you die while trying to stay warm under your bed when its -8F. he thinks its hilarious. man's got a long record of opening up the earth and swallowing well-meaning families to teach you a lesson about how much life sucks and how you should fear him just in case he can make it suck even more. it's not my fault of your fault that energy costs as much as it does and your mom thought she'd be fine with some extra blankets!!!! she wasn't fine and its not our fault but it sure feels like it doesnt it!!!

god does not exist and does not love you and you are now the third fucking family who has told me that it's my fault your grandpa is dead in 6 hours and i don't care anymore. a medic is gonna show up here in 10 min and give him an i/o and he's still gonna be dead. I am once again hoping that your prayers get him where he wants to go but don't fucking blame me if you think that they don't. take that shit up with god.

god does not exist and he doesn't love you but drunk ass extended family trying to get gma up the stairs and causing So many more problems than they are solving DOES exist. and they are doing 10x more for everyone than thoughts and prayers. i do not want this soda that i now have but thank you. this soda i do not want is also the reason im still alive

wrote this at 4:20 hahah blaze it and its now 5:03 and i have soft cats in my bed so i guess i'll live. also if god existed which for the sake of the world and all that is decent i hope he does not. i'm going to physically fight god

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Enji and rei with an alt grandbb?

• Idk what they expected

• You're being raised by wanna be gerard way

• He's so emo

• They dig it tho

• Enji is best supportive grandpa

• rei is best supportive grandma

• Listen, every alt bby goes through a really cringey phase before they get to supreme alt 😌

• They've all come to an agreement to just pretend it didn't happen :)

• Hot topic?? Spencers?? Some weird corner store that looks a little sketchy?? That's okay grandparents will take you :)

• They'll listen to your music without a second thought, they don't really mind at all

• Lil darkie?? Yeah okay blast that shit. Panic at the disco? Go babe. Pierce the veil?? Hollywood undead?? Yeah honey, go for it.

• They'll help you judge your makeup.

• Like if you try a new look- or want to- you can do it and then ask what can be fixed and they'll help you so you get the practice you need

• Rei taught you had to do eyeliner

• She's a bad bitch. Try me.

• They probably buy you all the good make up (much to your distaste bc you dont want them to waste money on you)

• If you want to get peircing they'd probably be okay with it to a certain extent (I mean its shoutos decision really)

• I feel like both Shouto and his parents would be okay w nose piercings, ears, and stomach but they'd get iffy w lip piercings and cheek piercings

• mostly bc those leave scars even when you take them out so they'd want you to wait until you were older/out of highschool

• But they'd def be okay with you dying your hair however you want

• Classic two front pieces bleached? Fuck ya

• Half n half hair??? F u c k yeah

• you wanna dye it black or dark brown?? Rei will help you

• if you want a mullet, you can have a mullet

• Undershave? Okay firefly, Jiji Enji is here to help w that .

• BAND TSHIRTS

• NIRVANA

• TOP

• PATD

• You want it? Oooh care package in front of your door that Jiji enji TOTALLY didnt get you

• If you're musically inclined, they'll come see all your shows and record them

• They'll do the best they can to help you practice

• Overall they're super supportive of your alt ways and they'll do whatever they can to help :) or just let you vibe tbh

[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.

[stumbling-to-sea]

kids AU

This is all @ohpineapples​ fault, with her roomboom kids! While i got an AU where Lana and Ace meet early while Ace was still alive, even that AU doesn’t end ... happily, but the ”what kids would they have, in the extremely unlikely case that would happen?“ won’t leave me alone now, so i have to get this out of my system:

In the unlikely universe where Lana heads for the Grand Line early and the War of the Best was survived, kids would still be not on the table — Ace refuses to pass on his blood and Lana has no time for kids, going from one mission to the next; the revolution never sleeps and neither does cypher pol

But one day Koala looks at her, frowns, and asks if she‘s gotten a little … uh, chubbier? and after another month of relentless nagging, Lana eventually goes to one of the medics and this is how she finds out she‘s pregnant

Ace is terrified and panicking and fussing, and unfortunately he contaminates everyone including the ghosts hanging around –  they try to carry her everywhere and refuse to leave her side and it‘s all just bloody inconvenient

What are we going to do, Ace whispers, his head on her chest and cradling her belly and thinking of his mother, and what if you—

The brat will have some of the most powerful people of the world as uncles, Lana growls, fed up, and I went six months without knowing ‘bout this, I’ll manage the rest, you are being dramatic.

The last month is miserable and the labour even more so, and Lana tells Ace flatly that she‘s not ever doing this again, fuck you kindly

Her daughter announces herself by splitting everyone’s eardrums

She‘s so ugly, Lana notes, amazed, and Ace nods, not listening and staring at the red wrinkly thing because it‘s the most beautiful thing he‘s ever seen

Lana refuses to name any of her kids after other people, at least with their first names, because they will not be burdened by any ghosts

Ace replies, you‘re just going to call them some ridiculous nickname anyway

Sure enough the portgas-leafless spawn with her muddy green eyes, a shock of wild blonde-ish curls and skin two shades darker than her father‘s, reacts to the call of “Dandelion“, short Lio or Lion, instead of whatever she‘s named

Ace would be extremely protective, like borderline paranoid about Lion‘s safety. Everyone who comes within ten feet of her is double screened and babyproofed, and the worst thing is that he considers himself the biggest danger — not only bc of his heritage, but ohdeargodimfirewhatifiburnher

Lana didn‘t think he could get worse than the time she was pregnant, but she spoke too soon

Whenever late Whitebeards are around they tease mercilessly, and she can‘t get Thatch to leave (free baby-monitoring aside, it‘s not worth the incessant jabbering and jokes about poop)

Seriously, she‘s not ever doing this again

But when Lion is barely two years old, Lana sits up in the middle of the night and just says, shit. I think i‘ve gotten fat again. Ace cries and says, how can one of the chief informants of the revolutionary army be such an idiot in the fondest but also exhasperated way possible

Little Copper‘s hair is black with a reddish tint and less curly than her sister’s, grey-brown eyes taking the world in as if she‘s already disappointed by what it offers her

where Lion will flutter her eyes prettily at people to get what she wants, Copper stares them into oblivion with an underlying threat of or else

Ace is, so good with kids, though. Which is great, because even though Lana loves her girls, people don‘t stop dying and ghosts don‘t stop knocking down her door, and the revolution doesn‘t sleep, and someone has to keep cipher pol off their tail

Copper and Lion spent their first years ship- and island-hopping with their dad (because the revolution isn‘t a place for children and there isn‘t a crew big and calm enough to hide among, with the Whitebeards gone). 

They don‘t blink at logic-defying weather patterns, wacky powers or displays of raw strength, because both of them could punch through concrete when they turned four, their dad‘s literally fire and their mother talks to ghosts and sometimes has dead people inside her, and don‘t get them started on their vast networks of “aunties“ and “uncles“ (both alive and dead)

The two knock on doorways when they enter and greet the air respectfully in case there‘s any spirits lingering, and know every way to put a fire out, and plenty ways to start one

Ace would eventually resign himself to semi-settling on an island under Luffy‘s protection, constantly catered to by one of the crews of his little brother‘s grand fleet

Somehow, on the way, Ace can’t help adopting strays — the small girl with samurai-ambitions and a once-empty stomach is just the start. He ends up the go-to-babysitter of the Grand Line; pirates and Revolutionaries alike drop off their kids with him when things get to hot for children around

He takes the kids on wild adventuring trips where he makes sure he is the scariest thing around, which considering,,, naturally means the trips are only mostly life-threatening

Lana visits as often as she can, and learns how to tell ghost stories to a rapt audience of lots of eager little faces. Everyone knows you can‘t play pranks on Mam Lana, she‘ll know. But she‘s also the safest place, because if there were any danger, she‘d know

Every couple of years, they‘d sit their kids down and tell them they can be anything they want to be. Lana never sugarcoats the problems people might have with their origins and their parents, but if they eventually want to start with a new identity they will make it possible, because choices have always been important to both of them

their kids have the D. but being descended from a Leafless means you don‘t put much stock in names

They didn‘t want their children to carry other‘s legacies, but their grandpa was the Pirate King, their mother and uncle are toppling the world government, their other uncle is going to be Pirate King and — what is cooler than that? Also Grandparents Leafless send the best tasting fruity sweets.

(Lion gets told that she looks like her paternal grandma, and Copper is kind of envious)

Everyone thinks Lion with her cat-eyes hides trouble behind her innocent freckled smile, but she’s really just a sweetheart while it‘s unimpressed Copper you have to watch out for, who takes everything as a personal challenge and chases after the next thrill

(If the revolution is still going when they grow up, Copper might go and join the Marines for the heck of it, Lion is good with boring details so she does the next best thing and goes into investigative journalism; each one‘s of the opinion that they work harder than the other to keep sis out of trouble)

(Copper and Lion has a nice ring to it, but so does Bronze and Lynx)

One lights her Dao on fire in a fight and the other has everyone wrapped around her little finger before she shoves them up their noses

Ace still occasionally gets terrified by the sheer responsibility but he‘s got a big family and somehow, the protection of every notable crew around because they like their babysitter hale and whole

Life is okay and well, as calm as can be, for a stay-at-home-pirate and ghost hunter who the world government would both rather see dead, with two fierce little girls of their own and a bunch of other teens who think monsters are normal, thank you very much

Until like six years after Copper is born and before dawn, Lana sits up in bed, saying, shit, Firefly. and. Ace buries his head beneath his pillow, moaning in despair

(but Page stumbles after his big sisters with black curls, chubby legs and much enthusiasm, and he‘s never alone or without laps to take naps on, and later on he will always have his freckled nose buried in a book)

(Little red-haired Tooth, two years later, will not stop trying to eat anything in reach. Her first instinct will always be to taste, which is quite problematic considering she expands on the knack for engineering she got from her father and metal has no place in your body – she‘ll probably end up eating a devil fruit)

(TL,DR; basically Ace will always want and deserve a big family, and Lana just. goes along with it, and they are one more reason to get involved in world affairs)

[fmdxjerome]

hello people from old and new! naomi is back in action with her son jerome. i’ve been stuck in my sisters house for the last weeks of my absence because she went on vacation and i had to take care of a sick rabbit who peed everywhere. i might have a disease now at the amount he bit me but what can you do. im joking. you might ask “but naomi doesnt your sister have wifi” yes she do but i’m an anxious wreck so spending my days on a first floor apartment  with my sister on the other side of the world w an infected foot had me fucke d upppp boiii but now i’m back in my own home and my sister + her boyfriend are safely home!! foot all fine!! and everyone is calm again!! so!! i can return with a good heart. i’ll be sliding in the dms of the people who bear emoticon’ed me 600 years ago and bc i suck w introducing myself to new people i’ll just hi!!!!! i think when i wake up i’m gonna do a “bio reading” marathon as i write bc i need to appreciate. also shit i need more threads wow i suck might see me replying to some open starters and def need to get back to plotting bc there are some people i’ve been dying to thread with ;^;

its like 6am now so i might b heading 2 bed now but under the cut there will be a reintroduction to jerome (one i promised in januari i believe) as im rewriting his bio (no major things change really its just minor things nd its time for an upgrade) so yes! hello (ims will come tomorrow as well ;3;)

also fact. mullet daddy jaebum is jerome rn dont drag him dont @ him its gone before you know it. probs after idolized its a look tho wow i love- a chic farmer (... the short bangs are tragic tho jerome honey i kno u liked them on wren but ur not wren. jerome: but i- me: no. this this not this jerome: :( ok fine me: fuego 

anyway before i pass out here is reintroduction. the triggers are; adoption, racism themes??? like yeah ok!! apologize if this is shit. hope everyone is having a good day though you all are great!

Jerome Gauthier aka Yuddy

-Anti idol

-Has an okay reputation but that’s because he’s smart about things.

-BC eyeing him tho *eyes fake friends with good reputation for him to hang out with* (hmu for fake friend plots. funny the person w the best rep of all actually likes jerome. bless jisoos christ. guess that praying on knees worked out in the end huh jerome. /dont/ sainthood is waiting)

-Talented™. (ask him to write songs for you) (Actually have a few songs in my library i want him to write but not sing so *eyes*)

-Passionate as fuck don’t mess with him in the studio (passionate all over tbh)

-Adopted and in search of his bloodlines

-Hoe but not really

-Actually, scrap that. Nicknames him JerHOEme

-Is actually lovely

-But acts like a shit

-Slips up and is soft to people sometimes before being a complete and utter asshole the next second

-bc soft jerome whOMST i only know deMON

-Suave Fuckboy who’s nonchalant about everything

-French™

-Will call you baby at some point in your life

-Signature smirk

-Egotistic???? Narcissistic??? a lil bit don’t stroke his ego

-Secretive™. not much info on his time in france

-Secretly a dad without children (except for his actual biological son insoo aka chorizo sausage who he goes to play ball with- i mean work on songs in the studio. seriously catch him picking up his son from soccer practice i mean shit no i mean- ok insoo is really his son dont fight me on this.)

-And also has a daughter an Oriental shorthair cat called Edith who he is so soft with he kicks out girls to cuddle with her. (one meow and he’s home)

- we support WISH hating jerome in this household. please people who have girls in WISH dont let them like him (or be a rebel and go against the mothers wishes but you’ve been warned)

-Dont let him get in your pants too like ask wren you dont want that (or i mean with the list of kinks i peeped maybe idk who am i to say what your muse wants or does not want idk im just protecting people from satan)

-Unlikely he’ll get in any pants now anyway tho bc he a proud shopper at papa juliens pizza and y’all some other brand type ish domino lookin asses NAH *throws hands up* rome’s in the house (no but guys. this is his soulmate THIS IS HIM. dISgUStiNG- )

-In 2016 interview took him out of context and it looks like he hates all idol rappers but is not true. He just doesn’t like companies making rap out to be like this thing you can do if you’re pretty and you can’t sing and he doesn’t like it when said pretty idols know nothing of it. he gets the grind but will side eye (benjy nd jerome already have a rivalry bc of this shit thank u interviewer)

-Dating scandals?? EHH. He almost had one with a Japanese model called Momo in the beginning of his career but BC did well of spinning them as friends and he legit had one with his ex last october which?????????? shit she touched his *spoiler* and it was *spoiler* . BC about to ban him from fashion shows damn. yoonah and him have to go to paris fashion week quick

-BC has yet to force him into a relationship tho. but damn he gonna be angry when that ever happens yoo. 

-Studied to become a cinematographer. Now is annoying as fuck during recording MV’s bc he butts into everything (BUT thats why his his mvs so AESTHETIC. eye for beauty bois)

-Holler at ya boi if you want a nice mv he’s involved like that

-Also to the girls who have been in an MV with Jerome.. know he probably flirted with you between takes bc during he’s grade a professionalism but he still a ho

-Actual catlady no questions asked (he feeds stray cats and gets cut up by edith when she smells other cats on him rip)

-Actual wife material no questions asked (to quote the great Halit Yilmaz during that time Jerome stood in the kitchen for hours making baklava and other Turkish treats for Halit’s Eid al-Fitr: “Shit, Jerome if you were a girl i’d marry you in a heartbeat.” and its true. we would ALL marry jerome. who says no is lying. )

-Smooth™

-Ok the ego thing btw its weird its an act but hes weird about it dont ask

idk what else to write ok short rundown of his bio as again i’m writing a new one and i cringe every time i look at my old one. im probs forgetting a lot but EYO ITS 6AM WHO CARES

CHILDHOOD age 0 to 10

-Born to a single mom who got fucked over by a smash nd dash dad. (we side eye Ok Chanwook in this household.)

-Moms family discouraged her from taking care of him herself so putting up for adoption it is.

-Very emotional not ok mom boram cry a lot pls. (got v angry too like boi if she ever sees chanwook again he can change his name to no dick larry)

-Adopted by a French couple called Lucas and Daphné (previously named Annelies). pretty kool peeps

-JK racist assholes who fetishize jerome a lot. PLEASE. the yellow fever runs deep. take him away from them,

-Raised in a small town in France and knew 0 Asians growing up. so thats nice

-Loves his adoptive grandpa to death tho (who’s he named after u3u)

-Actually hates the rest lol

-Ok uncle Rémy pretty cool bc he laughs at teen!Jerome shit talking his parents and aunt Camille. She a sweety ;3; a bit odd but a sweety #stanauntCamille

-Basically the people on the Gauthier side and born from Jerome and Clemintine are ok, the rest is shit (except for his dad Lucas. He a Gauthier but he shit)

-Junior/Senior relationship w granpda ;3; “Pépé!!” “Junior!!” *tiny jerome swings around grandpa’s neck* LOVE

-Grandma passed when he was 9. (he loved her very much and would always show her his drawings on her bed ;-;)

-Hard time adjusting at first when he was a tiny toddler. had a lisp talking french. ;3; baby rome

-young jerome had a bad case of the abandonment issues he literally held onto his dads leg for like 30 minutes before the teacher finally peeled him away from him. my smol boi

-Elephants. remember this. is important. /sob

-TLDR; biological mom didnt want to loose him. adoptive parents and dad are fucks. grandpa is kool. jerome had a good childhood until he didnt. thank u ignorance

TEEN YEARS age 10 to 20

-middle school very nice

-j FUCKING KKKKK EMO JEROME INBOUNDDDD

-kids are mean. teens are mean. young!jerome v lonely

-honestly he had no friends. except for like maybe this one kid on his sport called mattheo but he kinda a weeb so uhhhh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-the time comes that he feels uncomfortable with everything korean. he already learned korean along side french and english when he was growing up but now distances himself from further learning. he clings to french culture a lot and even to this day he refers to himself as french and european, and rarely refers to himself as korean or asian.

-feels disconnected from both though. its like.. his parents took his korean culture away from him by using it for their own amusement. it was not his to have basically. and french- a lot of people around him give the vibe he’s not “allowed” to call himself fully french. they see him as korean, korean-french but never just french. he feels very misunderstood. lack of identity and just not fitting in

-around this time (or earlier i’m musing still) his cousin Antonin (moms side) kind of fell out on him. like. wow. not good. fucked jerome up a lil. (issues intensify)

-inferiority complex inbound/ is he ok? no he isnt. he starts writing to get his emotions out.

-Blessed Freddy rolled in teen jerome’s life like: guess we need to do history homework together jerome: aren’t you gonna make a ‘do my homework bc you’re asian’ joke freddy: why would i jerome:

-they bond over music, freddy is the one who gets him serious about getting into it (we thank our lord freddy for this gift of life we call singer/songwriter jerome. pray to freddy 10 times a day *srry jisoos christ but ur out*)

-literally young jerome would be a great soundcloud artist in this day and age. he was like joji meets rei brown with more of an rnb tinge. he liked ambient because it calmed him.

-in his old bio thats still up bc im a slow writer his old name was some dumb shit like l.only DUMB its romeles now (get it.. jeROME LESlie gauthier. im smart)

-OK IM GONNA GO QUICKER NOW

-eMO FOR A LONG TIME BC OF LONELINESS AND OTHERING FREDDY IS HIS BEACON OF HOPE WE LOVE FREDDY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!!

-had a big ass fall out with his parents when he was around 15? was like “UHHH FUCK Y’ALL” and moved in with his grandpa (he was very disrespectful like damn boy but you know what. i support)

-best decision of his life because grandpa v lonely after his wife died and Jerome^2 is… so soft.

-Jerome dancing/singing to old tunes and being engrossed with old movies

-Learning how to cook ;3;

-I mean bc his middle and highschool were in Laval he spend a lot of his time w his grandpa already so he already had a bed and ;-; #jerome^2

-Halit rolls into his life. Braces, huge smile, lil prepubescent stash ohmygod. My child.

-BLANC is born. Freddy/Jerome/Halit’s musical trio. Stan the Three Musketeers

-Found his first best friend and a purpose in Freddy. Found a home in Halit. (sob)

-Finds solace in rnb and hiphop. People start noticing him because of it. Writes songs and performs them in café’s. Found his niche. 15 to 19 where his “best”  years

-THE BIG MOVE. After a concerned halit mom, a proud freddy mom and a “WHAT THE FUCK JEROME NO DONT GO” jerome mom they pack their bags and PARIS HERE WE COME

-Enter ex who haunts his life, Seo Yumi aka Marie (now model, v pretty, makes me cry)

-Spots her in the summer doing yoga in the park and boi he an assman so he got fucked up (jk he saw her face and was like wHAT love at first sight

-enrolls in film school, meets her there again and wow falls in love hard like wow calm down boy

-Dating~~~v possessive not good at ALL cALM DOWN JEROME

-ok he got his issues nd marie was the first one who openly listened to his problems and understood and made him appreciate his korean heritige bc she’s korean and showed him cultural aspects without the gross fetishizing that came with his parents and he just- he got intense ok. he already got a v intense personality so- still not good tho he needs to dial it down

-she thought so too and like after a year she was !!!! what the fuck. she is not one for serious relationships but jerome was like ehhh why not in the beginning its v nice to hear nd be seen as the most beautiful ok but then it got suffocating but instead of breaking up with him she kept him around. he a safe haven ya know. reliable. someone to built on later. *i wanna say she also didnt break up w him because his emo stories but marie,,, eh...* (funny tho like she got a thing for bad boys so she just “this is the fifth time you called me beautiful just degrade me lil like choke me idk” and jerome just “w-why would i do that you’re beautiful i dont want to hurt you” ah *looks into the future* ohhowthetableshaveturned.mp4 )

-Marie cheated on him the second she got the chance which was when jerome went to america w his bros

-Got offered a job as a songwriter when in ny. Wouldnt think he’d take it but after getting kicked out of school for beating the shit out of the guy marie cheated on him with and with marie out of the picture nothing held him back from starting a new life.

-TLDR; emo era. silver era. emo era 2 emo harder

ADULTHOOD age 20 to now

-Seoul make way for the rise of YUDDY™

-the name yuddy is from the film days of being wild. the character is kinda yuddy-ish too so he saw the film again and yep. thats my name

-Fuck_love.mp3

-Visits his orphanage. they like “nah boi u aint got no papers boi”

-Parents can give him access to his birthmother btw, aren’t doing it lol

-EMO

-Drinks. Sleeps around. Gets a reputation. You kno how it is. (gr8 ride tho. highly recommend. 5 out of 5 stars on yelp)

-SMASH ND DASH. Chanwook is that u??????

-One girl who he got with multiple times reminded him of Marie tho and that fucked him up for a bit (PSST ITS A PLOT WINK SO IF YA GIRL OF AGE IN THE 2013′S HMU BC ITS DRAMATIC HE GHOSTED THE SHIT OUT OF HER)

-Writes a lot of songs, a few for BC (knight baes). BC like *eye emoji* who dat boi who him iz

-Gets sign w BCreate and is like eyy life pretty good

-but lmao he debut and oh who’s that pretty girl promoting that lipstick?? oh.. its marie ;3;

-imfine.jpeg

-Joins main label and literally joins w a blessing stream limbo on spotify

-wgm era was a great era of jerome lmty his hair was great, shared cute personal things, manager was happy, slept with his best friend, was married to a sweet beautiful girl ya know the good stuff  👍 no im not crying you are

-triple fantasy era was awful we dont talk about that he looked like his brother and i’m still emotional about him wow. 

-instagram is a great song

-Interviewer: u mention an ex in ur song tell me more Jerome: *SWEATS*  

-Marie: my short hair DOES look pretty thank u babe ur red hair was cute too <3<3

-The fact she linked to him now is spook

-But ok he still flirty, still daring, still yuddy™ but definitely less of the whole “sleeping around” thing now bc he… he uhh closetoyou.mp3

TLDR; he turned into his dad but romeo is rising AND HE IS SCARED!!!!!

also never forget jerome is the messiest king in this ok non y’all are as messy as him. he fucked his ex’s friend oK THERE IS NOTHING MORE MESSY. dONT COME FOR HIS CROWN

[blubeloved]

tw- venting so theres a lot im sorry i just need to get it out. pls feel free to ignore this.

I don't think things will ever get better for me. They start to. Like the light at the end of a tunnel. But then i figure out that light it actually a train. Its getting my hopes up. But then something awful happens. If this keeps up idk how long ill be able to deal with it. I dont wanna be here if its just going to be bad. why do i have to be here only to feel pain. I cant run away. Theres no way for me when my dad has contact with officers who will track me. And, once i do get away what then? I do know what im going to do but will the pain finally go away? Will i be happy once i get away? I really hope so..

And , what if i, for some reason, never do get away. My parents could keep me here. I dont know why they would, not like they want me here, but they could.

And idk how long i can take the disphoria. I just want my chest to bd flat! I want to cut my hair! Even just cutting my hair would help a lot! But of course that would look ugly because my mom told me and shes always right as mother knows best right!?

And if my anxiety keeps up- we are going to havs issues. Can people whisper without me thinking its about me? Why would it be about me? Theyve talked to me like once and jt was only like two words. Maybe it was my voice. My voice is annoying. And i dont like worrying about everything all the time. I wish my parents would let me have meds for it but they wont bc they dont realize how bad it is bc i dont talk about it a lot. And i don't talk about it a lot because I feel like im worrying over nothing. And i am!

I also really want a hug from the people online. Theyre more of a family than my irl family ever will be. I dont want to see my irl family ever again. I just want to run away to Cali to see my s/o.

Most of my family probably wont support me being genderfluid , omi , ace , or demi. They probably dont know what any of that is. I wish i could tell my grandpa bc i figure he would be supportive. But hes dying. And the grandma that would most likely be supportive is dead.

i wanna be confident. I wanna want to live.

AND PLEASE STOP ACTING LIKE GRADES ARE TJE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD!! ITS NOT LIKE IT DEFINES MY PERSONALITY!! I REALLY DONT CARE ABOUT A STUPID FUCKING LETTER OKAY??? I COULDNT CARE LESS ABOUT GETTING AN F. I ALREADY KNOW IM A FAILURE ALL I NEED IS THE F TO PROVE IT. MAYBE THIS IS WHERE THE FEELING OF NEVER BEING ENOUGH COMES FROM! BC IT NEVER SEEMS TO BE ENOUGH. A? NO YOU NEED ME TO BE BETTER BECAUSE YOU ARENT GRATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU HAVE. AT LEAST IM FUCKING TRYING ANYMORE. YOURE LUCKY I HAVENT COMPLETELY GIVEN UP AND GIVEN YOU A STUPID FUCK UP. PLEASE STOP CARING ABOUT A STUPID LETTER IT DOESN'T MATTER.

and dont take my cat. yes she throws up a lot. but can she control her fucking digestive system!? no! that cat is one of the things keeping me alive because i know the first thing you would do is get rid of her if i died. and who knows where you would put her and what that would do. and how long she would live.

AND WHY DO YOU PUNISH ME FOR BEING MEAN!? MY SISTER ANNOYS ME AND YOU SAY "shes your younger sister, its what they do." BUT WHEN IM MEAN I GET IN TROUBLE. WHEN BEING THE MEAN OLDER SISTER IS TJE STEREOTYPE. BUT OFC YOU FAVOR THE YOUNGEST. AND YOU ACKNOWLEDGED IT!

also i believe that people take long hot showers to replace the missing warmth from lack of whatever bc i take showers rlly hot and long.

also im tired of having different personalities. idk what to do. i want one personality. please.

okay im done im sorry im sorry im sorry.

[longliveustherecklessandthebrave]

WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOJT THE SHIT SHOW TRIP I HAD THIS PAST WEEK ITS A FUCKING WILD RIDE FROM START TO FINISH AND IM NOT PUTTING A CUT BC IM ON MOBILE

OKAY TOO BAD YOU HAVE NO CHOICE ok so it starts off like this : we had an idea to go to Portland which is the city I live in when I’m going to school for a Green Day concert which has been like my family’s favorite band for ten thousand years right okay that was dandy. So I decided to also go to LA warped tour bc some of my internet friends were there as well. That’s fun right?

Well I get back from school and the first thing I hear is AW WE’RE SO GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK ABBIE oh by the way your grandpa just died BUT WERE HAPPY YOURE BACK and I was like holy shit. But so my original idea was to go from Portland to LA back to Alaska after warped. But I had to go back to Oregon for my grandpas memorial service. Not too bad right? I didn’t have to pay for my flight change bc they covered it. That wasn’t too bad. I also wanted my mom to go to warped with me bc I know she’d love it but my dad wanted her in oregon with him so she thought it’d be cool to send me with my sisters. A story that’s important later.

So we get down to portland everything is fine and dandy til we get to the rental car agency. Turns out somehow our rental car had been cancelled. Not too bad. Easily fixable. Everything is okay and we have the time of our lives at Green Day except we thought we were gonna be late but we weren’t. It’s all good.

Time to go down to LA. so it would be a $50 uber ride from the airport to our hotel so my parents told me to wait for my sisters at the airport for 9 hours. I didn’t mind too much bc I didn’t wanna be alone. But so they were flying later than me bc they bought their tickets separately. My mom bought their tickets from spirit airlines. (PSA NEVER FLY SPIRIT AIRLINES THEY ROPE YOU IN WITH FLASE PROMISES OF A CHEAP FLUGHT) and so they go and their flight !! Is cancelled !! Randomly. No explanation at all so they either have to wait til the next day (and miss warped tour) or fly someone else so they fly someone else. They have a stop in the middle between Portland and LA which is only a 2 and a half hour flight. So it makes no sense for a stop but they had to take it. So they end up leaving at 6 pm and getting there at midnight.

Meanwhile I was still at the airport and my mom said fuck it just go to your hotel and take the uber. So I go to the hotel. Chill out, take a nap. Everything is good. It gets to be midnight ish and my sisters had never been in LA before and I gave them brief instructions of where to go, but they said to keep my phone on me, but guess what I did !!!! I PASSED THE HECK OUT !!!!!!!! Like HARD !!!! I FELL ASLEEP SO HARD AND AWOKE TO 26 MISSED CALLS!!!!

My mom thought I had been kidnapped and so had my sisters but I was just dead asleep and didn’t wake up because my volume was off. It was a bad time but all got sorted out in the end. We go to warped. My sisters barely know any of the bands and are dying in the heat. I’m dying in the heat. We leave halfway through and me and my sister (who’s ginger and has the skin to match) got SUPER burned. Like baddddd

That wasn’t too bad. We go back up to Portland they fly spirit back up right? And they are charged an arm and a leg for all their baggage. They’re charged for boarding passes. They’re charged for leaning their seat back. They’re charged for everything. So we go to Portland for the service everything is relatively calm.

We go to the airport and the rest of my family is flying JetBlue and I’m alaska because I had my ticket separate right? They get to the airport wth me and mines just an hour later. And they glance at their gate and see it boards at 8:44 pm and leaves at 9:05. That’s weird right? But no biggie. Not too bad. They hang out with me, go back at 8:45 to find out that NO the time on the display was actually the time the doors CLOSED so ACTUALLY they missed their flight. And can’t go back til tomorrow night the same time. Isn’t that fun? I have to leave by myself and get there by myself and get everyone’s luggage and go back and get to my house

Not ONLY that but my grandma has surgery tomorrow morning at 8 am and she’s scared about it so she wants me to stay there the whole 4 hours of surgery in case something happens, I’m there. Sooooooo that’s super great

WOW THERE YOU HAVE IT MY SHIT SHOW OF A TRIP THAT IN VERY GREATFUL TO HAVE BUT ALSO STRESSED BEYOND BELIEF. I WOULD LIKE DEATH PLEASE

ALSO I HAVE TO WORK AT 6 PM TO 2 AM TOMORROW AND WORK AT MY SHIT SHOW OF A JOB WHERE BOTH MY GENERAL MANAGERS FUCKING QUIT Y E S T E R D A Y !!!!!!!!! AND MIGHT FUCKING CLOSE !!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!!

[sugakookiessss]

tagged by @01bri . thank you so much!!!

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

LAST:

1. Drink: peach green tea from starbucks 2. Phone call: my mom 3. Text message: my friend viviana bc i was telling her about this old lady giving me the stink-eye for blasting celia cruz out the car lol 4. Song you listened to: tequila by g.soul

5. Time you cried: last night over how good haechan looked in cherry bomb (REBLOG IF YOU AGREE LMAO)

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: nope, and wouldnt want to. if we broke up we gonna stay broken up lol 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: havent kissed anyone 8. Been cheated on: nope 9. Lost someone special: yes, sadly 10. Been depressed: yup, but i think my depression is well handled now 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: nah man, im a child of jesus 

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: maroon/crimson, forest green, & dusty rose

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yes! 16. Fallen out of love: lol, never been in love 17. Laughed until you cried: every damn day lmao 18. Found out someone was talking about you: mhm, and i shut that shit down real quick. dont mess with a cuban/italian lmao 19. Met someone who changed you: my friend caleb 20. Found out who your friends are: yes, and im glad i have. i dont need any more negativity in my life 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: nope

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i think pretty much all of them except for like 5 or so 23. Do you have any pets: i have a cat named sammi and he is the spawn of satan LMFAO 24. Do you want to change your name: i used to when i was little because i thought it was boring, but now i really like and appreciate it 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: i went out with two friends for lunch, and then we blasted suavemente and danced in the best buy parking lot at like 10:30 at night XD 26. What time did you wake up: around 1:30pm. it wouldve been later but my mom said she brought home mcdonalds lol 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: facetiming my friend viviana and crying over how good haechan looked in the cherry bomb mv 28. Name something you can’t wait for: GRADUATION!!!!!!! SENIOR YEAR BITCHES LETS MAKE IT GOOD 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: like 5 mins ago lol

30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: bring my friend caleb back 31. What are you listening to right now: myself typing this long ass q&a post lmfao 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: idk probably 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: ignorant and uneducated people like ughhhhhh 34. Most visited websites: probably youtube, my online course website, and buzzfeed bc i love to procrastinate by doing a quiz when i should be doing my classes lol

35. Mole/s: i have like 3 on my neck ( 2 of them are close together so it looks like a vampire bite, i know its dope asf lmao) 36. Mark/s: i have a bunch of beauty marks/freckles all over my body, plus scars on my legs for being a complete idiot as a kid who thought she was fucking superman at the playground XD 37. Childhood dream: to become a marine biologist, or go to hogwarts (idgaf about marine biology anymore, but im still pressed i never got my acceptance letter to hogwarts) 38. Hair color: naturally blonde, but its dyed to a redish-brown now 39. Long or short hair: medium-long hair 40. Do you have a crush on someone: nope, all the boys at my school crusty asf 41. What do you like about yourself: my sense of humor, my sass and wittiness (basically my personality in general), and my eyes 42. Piercings: 2 on each lobe 43. Blood type: idk but i think its AB 44. Nickname: tori and grandpa lol 45. Relationship status: single and an independent woman who dont need no man 46. Zodiac: taurus/gemini cusp 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: rupauls drag race, and impractical jokers

49. Tattoos: none yet, but when i turn 18 next year im getting one for my bday and more down the line

50. Right or left hand: leftie! 51. Surgery: none, thank jisoos 52. Hair dyed in different color: shit my hair has been the whole fucking rainbow lmfao. ive dyed it red, magenta, pastel pink, dark blue, red/brown, and purple.

53. Sport: i used to play volleyball and basketball but i ended up breaking my ankle so its difficult to run around now (also im a lazy piece of shit too lmao) 55. Vacation: i just recently went to savannah, ga & washington d.c to see some family (me and my cousin binge watched the harry potter series the whole time it was lit) 56. Pair of trainers: im guessing we talking about sneakers. the only nice ones i got are my adidas, the rest are like converse and keds lol

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: i had sushi for dinner. blessed the fuck up 58. Drinking: peach green tea from starbucks lol 59. I’m about to: finish working on my english project (kill me pls) 61. Waiting for: monsta x first win (wow i love triggering myself) :) 62. Want: PEOPLE TO STOP SLEEPING ON MONSTA X SO THEY CAN GET THEIR FIRST WIN FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD ASDFGHJKLDKDFK 63. Get married: i dont think i want to get married bc i dont like feeling like im held down. maybe when im on the verge of becoming a crazy cat lady i’ll reconsider lol

64. Career: music producer, psychologist, or private investigator

65. Hugs or kisses: i dont really have a preference but i guess hugs 66. Lips or eyes: EYES! 67. Shorter or taller: i would like someone taller than me idk just bc

68. Older or younger: older, but not by too much. i think the max would be like 5 years older 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: IM A SUCKER FOR SOME NICE ARMS LIKE SDJSDLKNAFGK;FKFd 71. Sensitive or loud: LOUD. i cant have someone too sensitive it would drive me insane. i have a really strong personality, so if you sensitive as shit you’d probably cry just bc i looked at you lmfao 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: probably somewhere in the middle. i dont want someone who is too scared/hesitant to do anything fun, but i dont want someone who will put me in a lot of bad situations. just a little mischievous lol

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: nope 75. Drank hard liquor: possbily vodka oF COURSE I HAVENT I AM A CHILD OF JESUSSSSSSSS 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: my grandma freaking threw my glasses in the trashcan when i asked her to hold them while i went to play basketball with my neighbor 77. Turned someone down: many times lmao 78. Sex on the first date: no 79. Broken someone’s heart: possibly idk 80. Had your heart broken: by my biases bc they dont know i exist :’) 81. Been arrested: nah, and lets keep it that way lol 82. Cried when someone died: of course, im not that heartless 83. Fallen for a friend:i dont think i have

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: 100% 85. Miracles: no

86. Love at first sight: lmfao no 87. Santa Claus: when i was little 88. Kiss on the first date: depends

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: ayszha 91. Eye color: hazel 92. Favorite movie:harry potter and the order of the pheonix

NOW, TAG 20 PEOPLE:

@won-markiepooh-woo @joshuahxng-kong @owopinky @echoayszha @puppyoongs @shownu-the-muscles @skittleluver101 @trollintraining @blockbyung @u-r-my-bias @puervy @tahyungs @jinn1e @min-yoongle @ole-dole-peaches @minyoong-ii @spidermalfoy11 @johnnys-hypewoman @sunshine-hoseok @joishua

(pretty much just tagged my mutuals. you dont have to do this if you dont want to, and if i didnt tag you and you would like to do this tag go right ahead!)

[curvycrip]

a list of all the shit

things i have been dealing with:

breakup. i thought i was ok. im not.

sick grandma. 

sick grandpa.

grandparents divorcing. causing rifts in family. granddad insisting we pick sides.

great grandmother dying. 

associated stress of that bc i didnt process granddad’s death years ago.

severely degrading mental health. 

poor/no NHS support. meds not working. no more therapy bc ive used up my free therapy allotments. 

poor physical health and inconclusive test results meaning im getting more, so stuff is delayed. 

-poor physical health of stuff i can actually officially say i have

literally heard my mum say “we should all just kill ourselves” the other day

several relapses into drinking, self harm, etc.

several break-downs.

my psychosis has been playing up and ive been lashing out when i didnt mean to and people have fucked off bc of it. (people who also had “bad days” and i let them get away with it but i make one mistake? and nah). 

money issues

sick guinea pig

seeing all my friends getting on with their life when i cant bc im sick

you want to “clear the air” when this whole situation is your fault. youve confused yourself, not me. im allowed to cut myself off when you are being a dick

passive aggressive anon abuse

a friend i thought was a friend deciding to abandon me when i did nothng to him

[talesofanotherpoorcollegest-blog]

my grandma and her favorite grandkid

Let me start by saying: I’m not writing this because I’m not her favorite kid and I’m jealous, I’m doing it because she wants to make sure every other grandkid knows who her favorite is and hum well… that’s rude.

 So, a little background first:

-          First of all, my grandma is a 79 year old woman who lives in a very conservative city. When my uncles and mom were still kids (my youngest uncle was just a few months old), both my grandma and grandpa moved to Germany and left their kids with my great-grandmother.

-          They left Portugal in the late 70’s with a very conservative mind, they were both born and raised in a very religious little town in the north. They lived in Germany for about 30+ years and when they came back for good (they would usually stay here during the summer time) and had the exact same mindset they had left with.

 Everyone in my family knows my grandma is a mean person. Let me explain that. She’s very devoted to her family, she helps everyone she can, which is a very good thing. However, when her mouth opens… Don’t expect nice things to come out.

 An example:

-          Her first job in Germany was as a nanny. She took care of this young little boy whom she saw as a son. She basically raised him. Sweet, right? Well, this one time during Christmas, my mom and her uncles were already adults by then, she said these exact words in front of them: “Your kids aren’t the ones you give birth to, your kids are the ones you raise.” I was in full shock when my mom told me this. She said this in front of her 3 kids, who she did NOT raise – she was talking about the little German boy she had looked after.

 Now, don’t think my mom and uncles aren’t grateful that she left in order to give them a better live (getting a job in Portugal was basically impossible at that time), but saying that is just hurtful.

  About the “fave grandkid” situation:

My oldest cousin was 15 when she got pregnant. She was in a relationship with a much older guy who, not only was a drug addict, but was also abusive towards her. She was going through her rebellious phase and she ran away from home to go live with him.

This was probably the biggest scandal ever in my family.

When my little cousin (let’s call her B.) was born things got even more complicated. The boyfriend who was still abusive ended up in jail for some reason I can’t remember. When that happened, we all thought my cousin and the baby would go back home… It was a shitshow. She went from guy to guy, she had no money or conditions to raise the kid… Long story short: my uncles went to court and got custody of little B.

B ended up getting psychological help at the age of 4. She was fine though, she was a very strong little girl and even now, at the age of 14, she never lets those bad memories bring her down. I admire her so fucking much for that…

 Having gone through all that (bad parenting, starvation, living with a drug addict, father being arrested and dying with an overdose, amongst many other things) my family felt very protective of her. And I understood that because I felt protective of her too.

 Fast-forward to Christmas 2015. I went up to my uncle’s house (where B lives) with my grandparents (no parents, they got divorced a while ago and Christmas is always a complicated thing). I was super excited, I looooove my uncles and B and I knew it’d be fun.

B was 13 and I was 19. On the very first day she showed all her possessions: her iPod, her iPhone 5, her MacBook, her iPad, her Wii, all her games (she gotten all these things in the past couple of months, grab onto this info, it’s important)… You name it, she had it. I wasn’t very bothered by this, she was 13, kids like to show what they own. But then things took a turn… She’s a tumbling gymnast (is that even how you say it?) and she competes all around the world – she’s really good. So she told me all the little adventures she’d had during those competitions when the adults weren’t around. Again, long story short, she had stories to give you 1000 STDs just by hearing them. I was worried, I mean come on, this kid is 13 years old… But then I remembered she lies a lot so I brushed it off. Kids, go figure. But it gave me this sensation that, even though she’s a kid and even though I’m sure most of the things she had just told me were a lie, I knew she wasn’t as innocent and she looked.

She proceeded by telling me she had been grounded for a whole month because she skipped school for 2 weeks straight – this was shocking okay, she’s the little angel of the family, she’s the one everyone knows will never screw up and blah blah blah. So I asked “how did you manage to get all these things if you were grounded for so long?” She pulled her phone and showed me her contacts list, I was confused, until I saw “Grandfather” followed by a bunch of money emojis. Her paternal grandfather had bought her everything she owned. And so I said “Oh, I had no idea you got along with your father’s family”, to which she answered (like it was the most normal thing in the world) “I don’t. Grandma ignores my existence, but Grandpa goes behind her back and buys me everything I ask for.” Oh. Okay. Well that’s… Hum. That was my answer cause I literally didn’t know what to say. Now bear in mind, when she told me this I assumed she had a good relationship with her grandfather, I understood that she didn’t get along with anyone else in her father’s family but I truly thought she spent time with her grandpa from time to time. Until Christmas Eve came around. We had just finished having dinner when the doorbell rang, it was him. She answered the door, he gave her a big envelope and wished her a Merry Christmas, in return, she said thanks and closed the door. My heart sank… No hug, no kiss, nothing. That old man left with the saddest eyes I had ever seen on anyone ever. I looked around to see how my family had reacted to that, but everyone was too focused on whatever they were talking about to notice what had just happened. I was in full shock.

When B. got back to the table my grandma was the first one to ask what was in the envelope, she showed her what was it and my grandma said “Good for you sweetie! He’s just doing exactly what he should do as a grandparent. Especially after everything his son put you through.”

Guys, I shit you not, I was so shocked and sad and disgusted and angry that I excused myself and went to the bathroom to cry. What the actual fuck had just happened and how the actual fuck did no one pay attention to it???? HOW ARE MY UNCLES ALLOWING THIS???? HOW IS GRANDMA BLAMING THAT POOR OLD MAN FOR THE ACTIONS OF HIS SON???? CAUSE IF SHE’S BLAMING HIM FOR WHAT HIS KID DID THEN SHE SHOULD BE BLAMING MY UNCLES FOR LETTING THEIR DAUGHTER RUN AWAY, BUT NO!!!! ALL MY LIFE I HEARD HER BLAMING B’S FATHER FOR MY COUSIN’S ACTIONS. JESUS CHRIST I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW.

 I literally had to stop writing for about an hour to calm myself down.

Anyway.

 This changed everything. B was no longer the sweet little angel I had grew up with. She was a mean, manipulative, self-centered, cold-hearted 13 year old little bitch.

Trust me, I know this has a lot to do with the fact that she’s young, but still.

 Fastfoward to Summer 2016. Every year since I was a little kid I would spend the month of August up in the north at my grandparent’s house. I’ve always loved it there but specially now that I had a boyfriend (who was studying in Lisbon and was from the exact same city as my grandparents), I had this little group of friends and summer nights were the best (still are).

This one random day I was in the kitchen with my very-broken-barely-functioning-laptop, both my grandparents were there too.

 Here’s a dialogue of what happened next, enjoy:

Grandma: “How much did that cost you?”

Me: “I didn’t know, my mom bought it a few years ago, but it must’ve been cheap” (she knows we don’t have much money).

Grandma: “Well your cousin is clearly the smart one! She asked her grandpa for a laptop that was 1000€ and he bought it! She even sold the phone he gave her (the iPhone 5) and bought the new one!” (and she said all this with the biggest smile on her face, like she was proud).

Me: “Yeah but… Why does a 13 year old kid need all that?”

Grandpa: “Exactly, she’s a kid, she doesn’t need any of it.”

Grandma (sounding super offended): “It’s his job as a grandparent!”

Me: “And it’s her job as his grandkid to be thankful.” (I was feeling very rebellious right now okay, my grandma is crazy in love about B and I knew this was a ballsy move).

Grandma (sounding even more offended – which was a lil scary): “Don’t say those things about your cousin! She loves him! She’s always telling me she likes him very very much!”

Me (about to lose it): “But she never spends time with him… She asks for stuff she doesn’t need, he goes behind his wife to make his only grandkid happy, and she doesn’t reciprocate. All that man wants is a hug and I can promise you he has never gotten one from her.”

Grandpa (without giving time for my angry grandma to answer): “She’s right.” (and he said this with a super calm voice, my grandma turned to him in shock cause you know, he was attacking her precious little angel with the truth.

 That was it, the conversation ended right there.

 About two hours later we were talking about my boyfriend, she was asking me a bunch of questions about him and his family cause you know, it’s a small town and everyone knows each other.

She asked me who he was living with in Lisbon, I told her he was living with his uncles (who are like super rich), I added that they didn’t like me very much cause I didn’t live in the “””nice””” part of Lisbon, that I was just a nobody who had no dreams. I said this in a careless tone bc well, I really didn’t care (still don’t). But my grandma was angry and she turned to me and said (seriously, prepare yourself): “WHEN YOU MEET THEM YOU TELL THEM THIS (she paused and I was expecting her to say something like “I might be poor but at least I’m the first one of all my cousins to go to college!!! Idk guys something along those lines) ARE YOU HEARING ME, YOU TELL THEM THIS ‘I MIGHT NOT LIVE IN A BIG FANCY HOUSE BUT AT LEAST I HAVE A COUSIN WHO’S A PROFFESIONAL TUMBLING GYMNAST’!!!!!!!!”

 What.

What..?

Even my grandpa was giving her a “wtf” look.

 Well thanks grandma, that was the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.

 Jesus I cannot tell you how I felt in that moment. I wasn’t even offended I was just really confused… Am I really that worthless to you? Is B. really all you care about?

 Guys, call it jealousy if you want, by all means go ahead. But that moment right there changed my relationship with both my grandma and B forever.

 That was the moment I finally understood why people said she was mean. And don’t think she’s just an old lady who doesn’t think before speaking. She knows what comes out of her mouth. And guys, that was just a little episode of the many many many more I have with her.

 Few examples:

-          She keeps telling people my parents don’t visit her together because they never have vacations at the same time when in fact, not only have my parents been divorced for almost 8 years, but my mom has visited her with her new boyfriend… She’s that ashamed.

-          On a random day (same summer) she gave me 5€ for ice-cream and then she proceeded to take it out of my hand and hand it to B. ????????? idek

-          She blames everyone around her for everything that goes wrong in her life. My youngest uncle has been to jail a couple of times bc drugs and she insists on blaming his “crazy” ex-wife when WE ALL KNOW he has been doing drugs looooong before he even met her.

-          She insists my brother (who is older than me and lives with her – only because he was accepted to college where she lives) is a nobody with no ambitions when he’s a good student who also works everyday.

-          Everyone we hang out with are bad influences and should burn in hell: she doesn’t want anyone to know I have a boyfriend because it makes me look like a whore. Very sweet of her. She also doesn’t allow my brother, who is 23 years old, to sleep at his girlfriend’s house because “if she wants you to sleep there with her it’s because she’s a filthy whore!!!!”.

-          She knows we don’t have financial security so every single fucking time she sees me with something new (clothes or shoes) she says “I bet you got that at one of those second-hand stores”. It’s not even about that fact she says it, it’s the way she says it, like she’s trying to shame me for not having much money…

  I could go on but tbh I’m tired of this.

I’m staying with her in a few weeks so it should be interesting. And please, don’t think I’m not thankful for what she’s done for me, I am. But mean things like this don’t go unnoticed…

 That’s it for today guys. This was a long one but I truly hope you enjoyed it.

 Like and reblog my story so more people can read it!

I’ll see you next week with a new adventure, meanwhile, follow me on twitter so you can keep up with my sad and definitely not exciting life!

 - CG.