#i genuinely do not want to lose weight. if im ever in the gym its bc i wanna build up muscle to pick up heavy things 6=w=9

[autism-corner]

i dont want to lose weight bc what if a pretty boy needs to cling to my arm or sit on my lap?? then where would they go?

[addcests]

mocha and mustaches in may

INJECTS ESPRESSO SHOTS DIRECTLY INTO MY BLOODSTREAM im so sorry it’s been months life i s  ha  r d 

ALSO THANK @cnrb FOR THEIR ART OF MY FIC IT GAVE ME SOME MOTIVATION TO FINISH WHEN I WAS RLY DISCOURAGED

title grande or venti [ao3]  chapter chapter 3 mocha and mustaches in may [ao3] pairing LPMM (slow burn?) words 2278 summary A newcomer disrupts Mastermind’s baristia routine. The newcomer falls asleep... again.

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SPECIAL OF THE DAY: Caffè Mocha

We combine our rich, full-bodied espresso with bittersweet mocha sauce and steamed milk, then top it off with sweetened whipped cream. The classic coffee drink to satisfy your sweet tooth.

. . .

Psyker had had a long day.

He could recall a certain someone nagging him in the back of his head about not juggling the course load he was taking currently, but it was only days like these that he’d actually heeded said nagging. Psyker brought up a hand to the side of his neck, rubbing at it wearily as if pressing against the skin would massage away the tiredness blurring the edges of his vision. As he walked along, he contemplated hitting up the gym, as he would most days but at the moment he just couldn’t muster the strength to even think about all the repetitions he’d push himself to do. Instead, he found himself before a familiar see through door, windows covered with well-placed ads of new coffees and pastries.

He exhaled a soft breath, watching the door fog up from the puff of warm air. A smile made its way to his face as he reached for the door’s handle, nudging it open gently as he was welcomed with the equally familiar jingle of a bell’s tune, greeted and wrapped in the warmth and cozy atmosphere that he knew only this café could provide.

And as much as he would rag on about coffee to Mastermind, the smell of the grinded beans was almost therapeutic. The rich and smooth flavors’ scent filling his nose were so bold that he swore he felt a little more pep in his step from the smell alone—coffee be damned.

Entering the coffee shop was his favorite, taking in the smells, the sounds and meshing in a ball of chilled, relaxing aesthetics.

—why, if only his roommate could hear him now.

He shook that scary thought from his head as he proceeded onto the next favorite part about visiting the shop; the entire reason he’d visit in the first place. (Lately, anyway.)  

“No, as I said before, that drink is without coffee. But I can add coffee if you’d like, for an additional charge.”

Or, perhaps, it’d be better to say not what he came to the shop for but for whom he came to the shop for. Right on cue, Psyker picked up on the blatant lack of patience he heard laced in Mastermind’s voice the first time they had met. It seemed to happen without fail, the annoyance prickling and dripping in each syllable of his far too done voice on almost any given shift Mastermind had.  

He felt sorry for the poor thing.

“No! … no,” he could hear Mastermind trying to restrain his voice. “No, we do not offer these drinks in the trenta size.” Psyker forced back a chuckle, listening to Mastermind try, once again, to come off as less of a… well, asshole losing any remaining patience.

In any case, it was days like these that—when Mastermind was busy with the unfortune of having difficult customers and when Psyker was feeling a little worn—he was happy to simply find himself an unoccupied table, somewhere that would be in Mastermind’s line of sight lately—and sit there, not wanting to further stress him.

He placed an elbow on the table, using it to prop up his chin and gaze aimlessly at the sea of people around him.

Normally, Psyker didn’t find the appeal of just sitting around and doing nothing—but when it was here, just sitting around wasn’t as novel as he thought but the weary Psyker found his opinion changing as of late. Itching to be productive, the atmosphere was great for getting busy. He could get work done too, free from distractions at home. However, by the time he assessed what it was he needed to do, he pulled off his puffy red and black winter jacket that he bundled himself in and placed it down on the table, folding it to make a makeshift pillow.

It wasn’t the first time that the shop’s soft beats over the radio, mixed with the mindless white noise of people chattering, had lulled him to close his eyes a bit and just rest.

Psyker’s final thought that crossed his mind was how it was ironic he could still find the café quaint enough to fall asleep in, despite Mastermind’s irritated voice fading into the background until sleep had claimed him.

>>> 

When Psyker finally woke from his slumber, the first thing he noticed was that his neck and back hurt and felt stiff, and that thought was then followed by the fact that he was drooling into his jacket, which meant he wasn’t using his pillow. Which meant he wasn’t in his bed at home.

The next thing Psyker noticed was that, upon realizing he was not at home, he jolted awake to find that he was in the little chair in the now quiet, and empty, café that Mastermind worked at.

Mastermind…

“—shit!” He cursed under his breath, because this was the second time he’s done this now to Mastermind. What time was it even? He rubbed at his heavy eyelids, forcing them to open as he peered down at his way too bright phone screen, cursing again as he fumbled with it to turn down the brightness only to drop it in his haste. Quickly, he lunged for it only to come short when he saw long limbs blocking his way.

“Hey, careful. You’re going to ruin the drink I just made you.” Mastermind glanced down then quickly averted his gaze to the tray he was carrying, steadying it.

Meanwhile, Psyker tried his best to calm his beating heart, thumping from jolting out of his sleep suddenly but also from the shock of Mastermind appearing out of nowhere before him. “You scared me!” he whined aloud.

Mastermind ignored Psyker’s outburst and placed the tray on the table, then easily bent down to where Psyker was, rolling his eyes as he simply picked up Psyker’s still too bright phone and offered it to him. “You dropped this,” Mastermind snarked, lips quirked up in a smile now.

Psyker could tell that hidden behind that smile, Mastermind was trying to force down a smirk, especially with the amount of sass he could detect in his voice, as if he were trying to mute a laugh that threatened to spill over. “Gee, thanks.” And then he made a face, something akin to playful annoyance because it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get his own phone! So, he voiced that.

Mastermind picked up on his sour face and a small chuckle slipped passed his lips as he turned his head the other way, feigning as if he hadn’t just laughed. But Psyker totally noticed. “That so? Well, you didn’t. I am trying to clean up and close, you know.”  

It wasn’t hard to hear the playful tone Mastermind was chastising him with, considering how late it must have been and that he was interrupting the process of closing down the shop. Again. “Oh… !” Psyker bit back a curse in the presence of Mastermind. “I didn’t mean t’ fall asleep again, I was, ya know, just waiting.” He ducked his head, mumbling under his breath as he explained.

Mastermind seemed taken aback by the sudden genuine reply Psyker offered but it was true! Psyker noticed Mastermind fidgeted a bit before slowly replying, “I know, I saw you, but it was really busy today… I appreciate you stopping by though!”

Psyker looked up from his defeat somewhat timidly, meeting Mastermind’s gaze and upon the words sinking, he positively beamed at the barista’s response, the corners of his lips tugging up just a bit that he was sure would not go unnoticed.

The way Psyker lit up seemed to throw Mastermind off as he fidgeted once again, holding eye contact with him until he began to fidget again, eyes averting from Psyker’s and smiling, albeit a bit awkwardly, in return.

The exchange between the two fumbling males was every bit of awkward both sides felt it to be. Why? They weren’t sure themselves, probably, and Psyker certainly was unsure but because it felt so they found themselves smiling in the companionable smile despite one another and themselves. In fact, a small laugh surfaced, escaping from Mastermind, each one light and bubbly, without any embarrassment. This seemed to dispel the slightly awkward tension the two were holding onto, as he tried to look Psyker in the eye once again. “Hey now, don’t let another one of my perfect drinks go cold on you.” Gingerly, he sat the tray opposite of Psyker’s belongings that were scattered rather haphazardly on the table, choosing to bite back a comment on the mess. “You look like you could use it on the trek home.”  

Psyker seemed to snap out of his trance as well, eyes trailing Mastermind’s movements as he placed the drink before him. “Hoh, what’s it today?”

“Just a mocha, not too many shots though because coffee this late isn’t a smart idea.” Mastermind paused for effect, “And because I wouldn’t want to offend the coffee-hater.”

Now Psyker’s lips pulled into a smirk of playful rebelliousness as he offered Mastermind a toothy grin. “Coffee tastes horrible.” Despite saying so, he pulled the cup to his lips and before taking a sip murmured, “you’ll never let that go huh?”

There was no verbal response. And there was no need. All the barista did was shift his weight on one leg, crossing both his arms over his chest as he offered the coyest smile Psyker had ever seen on the male yet. Still silent, he wore an upturned smile, not kind but instead playful with how he raised his eyebrows while tilting his chin up with just the right amount of defiance to still come off as teasing. All of this to suggest just what Psyker had said earlier—that there was no way he’d let this go.

Psyker’s heart jumped to his throat, just a little.

… particularly, because the jump-starting smirk Mastermind gave—was still giving him damnit—just a few mere seconds ago was now being replaced by quivering lips, forcing back an obviously muffled laugh as he bit down on his lips to stop the sound from escaping.

Unsure of what could possibly be so funny in such a short span of time, Psyker bristled just a little. “A-and jus’ what’s so funny?!”

Mastermind tilted his head the other way, hardly trying much at all to hide his laughter at this point.

“Well! What is it?”

Still, Mastermind would not yield, refusing to answer him.

“Have I somethin’ on my face… ?” Because that was the sneaking suspicion that Psyker was getting what with how Mastermind was now staring at what felt like his face. (And given how he could hardly hold eye contact earlier, he was like almost one hundred percent sure.) Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he swatted at his face and then placed a hand to his cheek, holding it there.

“N-not there!” Mastermind murmured out between chuckles hidden behind his hand.

Not there on his cheek, Psyker figured, so he moved his hand across his face towards his mouth and—he blinked because, “really? Whipped cream?” Psyker ran his tongue across part of his upper lip and tasted more of the vanilla sweetened substance.

After what seemed like forever to the slightly red Psyker, Mastermind ceased his laughing fit enough to finally speak. He stood upright, shaking his head, “I’d only put a small dollop, unlike the kids who wants a whole handful helping of the stuff, but still you managed to get a cream-stache.”

Whatever taunting reply Psyker had in mind was interrupted by the rough vibrations of his phone against the table nearest them. “Oh?” His eyes grew wide when he realized, again, what time it was and that it was probably his roommate wondering where the hell he was. Mentally, he cursed. A lot. “This is becoming a really bad habit,” he mumbled offhandedly, more so to himself than to Mastermind.

At first, Psyker couldn’t tell if Mastermind was offended, upset, or confused. Or all three. Before Mastermind could jump in, he decided it’d be best to clarify, “My staying late. I mean, it’s not bad. For you!” Psyker stumbled over his words and inhaled, taking a quick sip of the mocha he’d been holding. Licking his lips he tried again, “I don’t mean to keep holding ya up like this. It’s…”

… just so nice to be around someone like you.

Psyker didn’t feel so bold with those choice of words, syllables dying on his lips as he suddenly felt self-conscious and nervous again, but for different reasons than earlier.

Again, Mastermind looked like he wanted to jump in to speak, but this time he refrained, eyes darting down. Pensive or upset, Psyker was at a lost to differentiate the two.

“It’s just a lot of fun you know.” Psyker tried again, cutting through Mastermind’s silence, this time offering a lopsided smile and nudging Mastermind gently to catch his attention in hopes of getting him to look up again. “You’re a pretty great guy.”

Fidgeting Mastermind finally stopped to look up at Psyker. There was some hesitation, but a smile graced his features eventually. “You’re not bad yourself, Psyker.”

“Thanks.”

“… for a coffee-hater anyway.”

They shared a knowing look, one of inside jokes and laughs.

Psyker found that, despite the nickname being true, it was really starting to grow on him.

[killcapitalizm]

the louvre; peter parker

request; can you do an imagine where reader has a crush on peter even though he and michelle were dating in high school (which makes the reader distance themselves from the group) and after they graduate, peter finds them and says that he and michelle didn't work out? then the reader finds out it was because he liked the reader the whole time. sorry if this is confusing and super long!!

word count; 2,990

warnings; tw self harm, here’s a no tw version. also i didn’t edit this as always

a/n; YALL IM SO SORRY IM TAKING CENTURIES TO WRITE I SWEAR IM TRYING SFSJGLJ; wheezes im still in the middle of writing the next part to this, it was originally gonna be one big fic but its taking too long and i have enough for a part one at the very least so i decided to break it up. listened to the louvre  by lorde while writing. gosh im sorry this took so long

tags; @kaliforniacoastalteens

Your name: submit What is this?

You had supposedly gotten over Peter a few months ago, when you'd accepted the fact that he and MJ– or rather, Michelle, you remembered, she's Michelle to me now, isn't she– were dating and you'd finally ceased intentional contact with him after painfully long weeks of being too busy, too sick, too tired, too hurt; and you have yet to admit that last one. With Peter's absence of course came Michelle's, they were a couple and therefore somewhat of a packaged deal. That was no surprise to you, when you regretfully unwound yourself from Peter you had known that you'd lose Michelle, too. What you hadn't expected was the sudden absence of Ned– someone who you had grown quite close to. Even Liz was separated from you, so subtly you nearly hadn't noticed she was gone. In the first few seconds of hurt and loneliness and confusion, you were awfully lost. But then you considered: you met Ned and Liz through Peter and indeed they were closer to him than you'd ever be, ever been. And so you start from scratch.

You tried your absolute best to make some friends in each of your classes. You swallowed that familiar feeling of fear-filled blankness and managed to talk to one person in each of your classes. They all had their own pre-established friend groups that you knew you wouldn't be able to be a part of, but you gratefully settled for acquaintances that would give you a partner in class and someone to ask for notes when you were out for a day or two. You lived without a friend for the last four months of your senior year, right up to graduation where you saw Peter and Michelle kiss under the shade of a city tree in front of the school and then you caught Ned's eye later and his mirrored yours, but softer. Never before had you weeped over being unable to text a friend about how entirely shitty you felt because your mother was angry again and, more importantly, you missed them, but in that summer you stained your pillow at midnight as your back and legs and chest ached as if they were holding your bruising sorrows. Your parents weren't home that night when an impulsive thought seemed sensible for a second too long and you threw your gentle arm against the turn in the kitchen wall with a force that was everything but gentle. Instantly, you regret it– just like you regretted deleting all of your old friends' numbers from your phone all those months ago. You sobbed harder, cradling your pulsating arm and retreating back to your room for five minutes, then the bathroom for ten, and back to your room for the rest of the night. Those kinds of nights don't happen often but you hate that they happen at all.

On your first day of your new job at a popular bookstore, you were glad it was chilly because last night left you with bruises that were deep and dark. You wore long sleeves and hoped they'd fade soon then told yourself that if they did then you wouldn't do it for another two months, and when you walked in you saw no one you knew until you turned your head and saw Ned, you saw Ned in the soft yellow light of the morning and you nearly cried because you saw him like that many times before, with Peter at sleepovers when you'd wake up early and again with Peter when you'd walk to school with them. He saw you and smiled at you, and didn't look away in that don't-talk-to-me way but instead he glanced down at the empty area next to him behind the register then back up at you. You were terrified in that anxious, empty way but you yearned for a familiar friendship, so you walked over to him and spoke too much right away.

"I've missed you." You didn't sound polite or happy and that's what made it sincere.

"Oh, thank god," Ned says. "I thought it was one-sided."

"Is it?" You ask still, but you're smiling brightly for the first time since you cleared your phone contacts.

Ned snorts. "I would assume you'd infer from what I said that it's not, but whatever. I've missed you, too."

It was in that moment that Ned forgave you; in the same moment he realized there was anything to forgive you for. While Peter had dejectedly told him you were probably avoiding him because of something he did (Ned knew it was because he was together with MJ), he had still missed you without an answer, missed you in the same way you'd miss a friend the night after a sleepover, when you turn in your bed in heavy solitude and whisper to the wall that they hadn't slept next to, because if you'd look to the space where their mumbles had been then you wouldn't sleep all night. Your absence had him turn over to the wrong wall, and that hurt him.

You remember the time Ned had accidentally tripped you in gym class back in your junior year and you saw him nearly cry, then you spoke again. "I'm sorry." For what, Y/N? You try again, "I'm sorry for leaving you and not talking to you. That you had to miss me. I missed you a lot. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," says Ned, "I forgive you." He forgave you twice, because he hadn't realized how satisfyingly pleasant it feels when someone doesn't have to apologize but they do with their heart.

"Thank you," you say, because he welcomed you after you had cut him off for so long and he shouldn't have smiled so dearly at you, and you're grateful.

Ned helps you with your new job that day, then that week, and into the next week. You add his number back onto your phone and write it down in your journal that you've stopped writing in ever since Peter told you with so much joy and love that he was dating Michelle. You try not to think of them, just of how much you missed him and her each as their own. If you think of them, then the next time you bruise yourself you always end up with deeper and more plentiful bluish-purple spots. You don't tell Ned about the bruises and you don't ask about them, you don't ask about Peter at all but you know he's talking about him when he says "my friend," or more often, "a buddy of mine."

But Ned is smart, and he knows you had liked Peter back then and because you never ask about his friend (he knows that you know who he's talking about), he knows you like him now. He also knows that Peter and MJ broke up, he knows why and how and when and where and the boy was a boy of the Earth, he is rooted to the ground and because of that he knows it's not his place to tell you all of that. Ever-growing with the kindest smile, he knows that Peter needs to tell you himself if you're to ever know. And he wants you to know, so he decides that five weeks of talking daily with you, after reattaching yourself to him and him to you, that he'd start to reconnect you and Peter. He starts off conveniently.

"Look, dude, just get it over with and you'll feel better… What? Peter, no, you need a job, you're eighteen now–" Ned spots you walk in early one Thursday morning and talks just loud enough into his phone so that you could hear him say Peter. Surely enough, you duck your head as if you hadn't been listening. His name out of Ned's mouth, so bright like you remembered it, twists your heart. "Hey, man, I gotta go and you do too. You got this, I know you do. See ya'."

You stop beside Ned as he hangs up and tucks his phone into his back pocket. As always, you greet him with the biggest smile you can manage. These days, it's been some of your brightest, full ear-to-ear grins, but today you barely show your teeth. He notices and for a second he rethinks his plan, but you still love Peter and he knows he loves you too so he keeps going. "What was that all about?" You instantly regret that, but it flew out of your mouth before you could think of another conversation starter.

"Peter, actually," he does his best to sound gentle, but you inhale sharply at his name anyway. "He's going for a job interview later today and he's panicking again. As always. But I know he'll do just fine."

You were silent for a second too long, quickly spitting out something when you realized it. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, he was always like that… panicky. 'N stuff. Before things. He always did good and… yeah." You straighten your back and shift your weight from leg to leg, a poor attempt at looking casual that really just made you look just as nervous as you felt. You were looking down at Ned's shirt with a pleading gaze that he surely saw, begging him silently to just leave it be, to change topics, to not say his name again. He saw all of that, but he knew he had to.

He looked sympathetically at you as he spoke again, "Speaking of him, I think we should all meet up sometime or whatever. It's been a really long time since we hung out." He sounded like he was hurt, feeling awful for putting this on you but knowing it'll end up better in the end if you're willing to work with him.

You, on the other hand, sounded genuinely wounded. "Y-Yeah." You nearly wheezed. Unconsciously, your hand rested on your hip, angled so that your palm was more on the back of your hip. Ever since you could remember, emotional stress would center at your back and slowly start to crawl down your limbs. Always starting in your lower back, it ached with whatever you felt, then burned its way up, making the spot between your shoulders sore, then shooting down to your legs. If Ned insisted on talking about this for very long, you'd have to bring a stool to the register with you today. "I mean, I don't really think… he'd want to see me. After what I did."

"Actually, he really misses you." Gosh, he was trying so hard to be soft, but it felt like he was smothering you with a pillow. While he wasn't lying, he hadn't actually told Peter he's been hanging out with you. "He'd love to meet up sometime– I'll ask him later today. You can set the date."

"He…" misses me? you finish in your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing up your neck and kicking your brain, then rushing back down before starting again. You were growing a bit of a headache, maybe from staying up late last night but maybe the aches were skipping your limbs today and getting right to your head, towards the back where it wouldn't let you lay down on your back later. "Uh… Yeah. Y-Yeah, I'll– I… Sure. Sometime."

Ned watched your discomfort with a wince that went unnoticed. He reminded himself it would get worse before it got better. "Anyway, we should start preparing. We open in an hour," he said, trying to edge you away from the topic, although it was too late to stop the images and memories of Peter from firmly planting themselves in your head. You nodded once, slightly, then again with more motion. That day, you made sure to never be seen without a water bottle so that you had an excuse when someone asked you why you were going to the bathroom so much. You'd go when your started thinking too much, to the point that it interfered with your ability to shelve books and even think to yourself a single, coherent thought. You'd excuse yourself, rush in, and find yourself gasping for air that you hadn't realized you lost.

You went home that day feeling more alone than not, despite the sudden vague reconnection with Peter. But you shouldn't be surprised, the thought of the boy has been a presence of loneliness for a while now. When you think of him, it's as if you're thinking yourself into a void, where you detach from the Earth, as if you exist in your body but your body does not exist in the world and it simply moves around in it. Sometimes you suspect that because you feel something so drastic and real that Peter wasn't the only cause of it, but it did you better to not think too deeply so that you don't wake up the next day with bruises from frustrated confusion. You went home that day and asked Ned to call you, because you hid your bruises from him and knew that if he were with you in any way that you would be able to keep your promise of two months of freedom. When Ned was gone, you moved to the TV to distract you. Then you pulled out your phone and decided to read something, then opened up your laptop to watch a YouTube video, and after a minute you retrieved a book to read and a comic to look at– you were doing everything and nothing at once but what you weren't doing was hurting yourself and that was, in the end, what you wanted. You cried when you settled in bed that night, your body detached from the Earth for a while when you panicked in your (too) many thoughts of Peter and other things, although you don't remember what those other things are because its easier to just say one thing, despite him being the hardest thing to say at all. You had to stumble out of bed and lay on the ground– on your side because the very back of your head still hurt– look at things in your room one at a time, then listen to things outside one at a time, tell yourself what apricots and your favorite tea taste like before you could finally feel the carpet beneath you again. Your head spun with busyness and contradictions as you got back in bed, but you slept right away and that was all left to touch in the morning.

And Ned was true to his word; when he had to hang up to catch a bus, he made sure to text Peter when he got a seat. It took him ten tries, but he decided to bluntly tell Peter that he's been talking to you, and then gently ease into his proposal of hanging out again. Then, because he stayed with Peter in those months you were gone, he felt it was right to hook another text onto that one: he knew you felt something for him, and he told Peter that he didn't knew exactly what you were feeling (and that you probably didn't either) but that it was something reminiscent of strong love, broken love, fear, and a lot of missing him. You had looked bewildered at the mention of Peter, and he told him that, too. Told him that he should try with you. Told him that you needed him to try with you, or, at the very least, you needed him (not him, but him there, you needed his nearness, the familiarity Ned had fulfilled had to be filled by more than just him). And Peter answered with time, so he went back to the usual, being the Earth boy he always was, sleeping close to the ground on the first floor of a cheap apartment that looked magical later that week when he taped up all of his posters and switched out the bright, fluorescent white lights for the yellowed lights he always preferred because they look more like sunlight.

So Peter, in his dress shirt and nice pants and new shoes, sitting with his back straight against the wall near the entrance of his apartment, still sweating from the conversation that had happened hours earlier, closed his eyes and remembered you in the moonlight like you had remembered him and Ned in the sunlight, he remembered those many late night conversations he had with you in which he was filled to the brim with nothing but nerves and stress and anxiety, he remembered how you'd remind him all night and day and week that he was important and needed and okay and here, on this planet, in this town, living and breathing and growing and that he's not as small as he felt nor as big as he fears. He remembered how you'd call him sunshine, sunshine and he told Ned that he needs you because he wants to hear that again. A sky boy he was– he was constricted and bound by his own breathing so he threw off his clothes, pulled on his suit of red and blue, and sprinted across the roof of a long, tall building so he could jump off and then web himself to the next building. He toppled over and rolled along the hard surface of what was probably some apartment complex, he stared up at the last sky blues for the day and panted. His throat burned with his wheezes, but soon he smelled the city and smiled, deep in his mind he was sure that you'd call him sunshine, sunshine again soon. He slept long after you and Ned had fallen to slumber, after flying around buildings and waving at an infant and helping an older couple catch their bus.

[taegijae-blog]

BREAKFAST DELIVERY 12

pairing: 2jae

genre: fluff, if you squint there’s angst

word count: 3k

description: the school’s hottest boy im jaebum wants to get a certain boy’s number.  but the first problem is: he’s unhappy and not eating.

status: completed

note: this was originally posted on wakaba’s wattpad @/jaeholics

| part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

"Youngjae..." Jaebum had carried the freezing and shocked Youngjae over to a sunny spot behind the gym, a place where teachers usually never visit. Youngjae's eyes seemed sleepy as he shivered, Jaebum locking his arms around his body to preserve warmth. Both of their backpacks were also there. After Jaebum had burst out of classroom without saying anything to his teacher, he had found Youngjae's backpack thrown in the hallway. Carrying both of them, he’d run straight to the pool. That was his story up to the point where he found Youngjae being pulled dangerously close to the diving pool, and where his anger rose up to impossible levels. At least he was okay now. "Hyung..." Youngjae called out softly, coughing a few times. "You were the one who saved me, weren't you...?" Jaebum nodded. He brought Youngjae closer, leaning against one of the warehouses for sports equipment. "Yeah." Something made Jaebum's eyes blink, glistening ever so brightly. It was Youngjae's smiling face, staring up at the elder. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Shocked frozen for a second, Jaebum eventually returned a smile for the other in his arms. "No problem, Youngjae." He leaned down to nuzzle his face into the other's neck, breathing softly. "I'm sorry for yelling at you and slapping you. I really am," Youngjae said out of nowhere, sighing as he exclaimed so. He shifted his body so that he'd be even closer to Jaebum, feeling the comforting warmth of him. "I was just so... confused. I was scared at myself for being so mad that I guess I...tried to avoid you for a bit." "Mhm," Jaebum murmured, sighing into the soft and slightly wet skin. "I understand. I knew I should've told you earlier, but I was too dense to realize what it was doing to you." "It's okay." Youngjae was staring blankly at the scenery in front of them: cement, tall wire fences, and a few trees. "It really is alright. I've come to realize that I love the person called Def Soul' and that you are Def Soul. and how, by that logic, I love you." Youngjae peered up in order to look at Jaebum. "Jaebummie-hyung. It's always been you, hasn't it?" Although Jaebum was speechless for a second or two, he started to laugh softly. He loved this kid called Choi Youngjae. "I guess so." Jaebum reached over for his backpack and unzipped it, taking out something. "What's that?" Jaebum grinned to himself as he took out the small bag of homemade cookies. He opened it, taking one of the treats out and holding it between two fingers. "Have you eaten breakfast? Did you bring a lunch? If not..." Jaebum said in a singsong tone, pouting his lips in a rather cute way. "...Think about me, and then... eat." He stuffed the cookie into Youngjae's mouth. Chewing on it, the other giggled softly. "Thanks," he said as crumbs fell from his lips. "Hey," he whistled quietly. "Did you know that I used to be called fat constantly by these girls?" Jaebum's happy expression immediately dropped to a frown. "What? Who?" "I don't know." For some reason, the smile on Youngjae's face never faded away. "They just did for fun, I guess. They would come up to me during lunch especially and just whisper 'hey fatso.' So I thought about it a lot and decided that maybe I am fat. I didn't like how they would pick on me so I looked up how to lose weight. My naïve self ended up believing that skipping lunch and breakfast would be the best way to lose weight." Youngjae's chest rose high up and back down, which was something Jaebum's arms felt. "I was pretty unhappy and hungry, but I still kept doing it. My friends nagged me to eat. I wouldn't listen to them, though. So this is the strange part, right? Every piece of food you gave me, I would eat it happily and completely forget about starving myself. I totally forgot about trying to lose weight and whatnot. Which is weird, isn't it? Because I had no idea who you were, but you were still able to persuade me." "You literally cured this bad side of me, I think. You really are an amazing person, hyung," Youngjae finished with a big, wide smile and pat Jaebum, who was on the verge of tears, on the arm. "God... Youngjae...I'm so in love with you," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Are you still cold?" "Nope," Youngjae replied cheerfully, taking the piece of clothing from his torso and handing it back to the other. He went over to where his backpack was and hung it over his shoulder, throwing the other bag to Jaebum. "Do you want to go back to class?" "Not one bit," Jaebum laughed as he said so, also standing on his feet and carrying his backpack. He stood beside Youngjae, crossing his arms. "You should get a new change of clothes or you'll catch a cold." "Hm... yeah..." Peering down at his wet shirt and fanning it, he pursed his lips. "I don't have spare clothes, though." "You do at home." Youngjae grinned. He took ahold of Jaebum's hand, weaving their fingers together. "Come with me." "To ditch school?" "Yeah." The two started taking the back route of the school, planning to leave through the back gates. The gates were locked, they found, but Jaebum was able to help Youngjae jump over them. In Youngjae's free hand was the bag of cookies he received. He had all intentions to finish them once he was back at warm home. Before they took any more steps, Youngjae gave a gentle kiss to Jaebum's lips. He was unbelievably happy; it was like the times he yelled at him and cried because of him had never even happened. After all, those things only happened because of Youngjae's confused, naïve heart. Without the worry of being fat or not clouding his vision, he could clearly see that Jaebum was someone he loved. The only person who even when he was down; someone who would take care of him like he was born to do so. It was always the person he knew as Im Jaebum. Def Soul' was just Jaebum with a pair of sunglasses as a mask. That anonymous food donator and note writer was Jaebum too. He had all sorts of identities that Youngjae misunderstood, but he knew now that they all made up to be the same genuinely kind, benevolent person. "Let's go."

During his first period class, Jaebum's eyes wouldn't look away from his backpack that held a bag of homemade cookies. Would Youngjae still be willing to accept his food? Even after knowing who was behind all of it? He did know that Youngjae continued to not bring himself a lunch to school. Occasionally, he'd something light like a bag of chips (the kind that is 80% air) but that was basically it. He really thought it was amazing how Youngjae was able to control his hunger like that, especially in a cafeteria where a hundred or so students were eating happily. Jaebum felt frustrated at how little he knew about the junior. There were so many things he wanted to know so that he could take better care of Youngjae. What's his favorite food? Drink? What's his ideal type? He slammed his head onto his desk. This wasn't the first time he'd done so, and the teacher didn't bother to look back that time. "I've told you this before, Mr. Im, but please don't break your desk while venting your frustrations." Jaebum played around with his eraser, feeling bored. He was thinking about texting Youngjae before realizing that he had a low chance of getting a reply. what are you doing right now, youngjae? in class? of course you are. right. i want to talk to you. 🍽 Youngjae left his classroom early because of a stomachache. He kept thinking about how odd it was for him to even have a stomachache in general when he'd been doing his best to eat as less as possible. The only thing he’d eaten that morning was a slice of bread accompanied by a cup of water. All he knew was that the stomachache was painful. He couldn't walk very many steps before needing to clutch his belly, crouching over slightly. On one arm was his backpack, hanging by its straps. He’d tried mounting it on his shoulders but it quickly fell, since it actually made his stomach feel even worse. His brows were wrinkled as he stumbled down the hallway, searching for the infirmary. "What's this?" Youngjae's face was drained of its color when he realized that voice was familiar. He remembered it clearly: the voice that had spat at him while he was kicked by its owner. His head hung low as he pretended to not hear, making sure his face wouldn't be shown to the guy. Unfortunately for him, that just made things worse because he couldn't see properly and bumped straight into the voice. Goosebumps spread across his arms when he heard the displeased growl coming from the taller person. "Are you blind? Watch where you're fucking going!" Although Youngjae was scared, he was sure to keep his head down to cover his face. His stomach crippled him with pain but he had to deal with it, just for a bit longer. A horrible sense of doom overwhelmed him, though, when the other grabbed his collar and pulled him up. "That's hilarious. You're that little wimp I beat up before. Looks like you haven't learned your lesson at all, have you?" he scoffed, now grabbing Youngjae's chocolatey hair and tugging him to somewhere. "S-stop, please," Youngjae pleaded. Those were meaningless attempts as the guy only tugged on his hair harder, making him whine in pain. As if his stomachache wasn't enough, now he was dealing with this. In the process, he was forced to drop his backpack and it was left alone in the hallway. He was in far too much pain to even struggle and fight against him. Just as he was about to scream for help, the guy noticed and covered his mouth tightly with his hand. Youngjae really was frightened. His shaking hand reached into his pockets. Thankfully, his phone was in there. Youngjae double checked to see that the guy wasn't looking and, with his quivering fingers, he opened his text messages. He was afraid that his phone would be slapped away when noticed so he opened the first chat. jaybee [c.youngjae]: hyunh [c.youngjae]: hyungg [c.youngjae]: pleesas;; [c.youngjae]: heelp nme theres a; guyy [c.youngjae]: hes dragfing me to somewhere an I cant get away from him [c.youngjae]: help me [c.youngjae]: imm so scared

[jaybee]: tell me exactly where the fuck he's taking you [c.youngjae]: i,,i don't know [c.youngjae]: its,its outdoors [c.youngjae]: tthe field [c.youngjae]: pool [jaybee]: i'm heading there right now [jaybee]: youngjae fight back no matter what he does [jaybee]: youngjae [jaybee]: youngjae?? [jaybee]: i'm running [jaybee]: i'm on my way [jaybee]: oh my god [jaybee]: please be okay By that time, Youngjae had hidden his phone. The guy had dragged him all the way to the outdoor field and was approaching the swimming pool, where no teachers or students lingered at the time. The other grabbed him with both hands and flung him over the little fence surrounding the pool. Youngjae landed on the cement, a few scratches on his arm starting to bleed. He was holding back everything to not bawl in fear. The guy hopped over the fence, staring down at him in anger. "No one ever bumps into me twice. This'll help you learn, faggot," he spat, now pulling the collapsed Youngjae by the hood of his jacket. He was partially choking while being dragged across the cement against his will. The minuscule amount of oxygen he could breathe in wasn't the biggest problem he had at the moment. He could tell that he was being dragged over to the diving pool, measuring staggering meters deep. Youngjae's body locked up and was essentially frozen in fear. He couldn't swim. "Come on, cunt. swim for me." Youngjae was brought so close to the edge of the pool that his shoe grazed against some water. He couldn't do anything except make gasping noises and have his heart beat at unnatural rates. Was this the day he'd die? The metal fence made sudden rattling noises as footsteps stomped furiously to where the two were on the pool deck. Youngjae's eyes were squinting due to difficulty breathing, but he could sort of make out who the person was. "Hyu... ng..." he whispered, his voice raspy. Jaebum ran up to the guy dragging Youngjae and punched him without saying anything. "Get your fucking hands off of him or I'll beat the shit out of you!" he yelled in absolute fury. The other was equally angered and snarled, but only got another punch to his chest. He fell onto the ground in pain, but not before pushing Youngjae into the pool. Jaebum's heart stopped beating when watching him sink deeper into the water. "Youngjae!" he shouted, diving in after the boy, who was silently sinking deeper motionlessly. Jaebum grabbed Youngjae's shirt and pulled him towards him, wrapping an arm around him securely. He swam towards the ladder as quickly as he could, madly calling the other’s name. "Youngjae, Youngjae, Youngjae, oh my god..." Jaebum muttered shakily as he finally pulled him out of the water, still holding him tightly in his arms. Youngjae was unresponsive, his head drooping down with every attempt Jaebum made to wake him up. Jaebum's eyes were suddenly filled with even more rage than ever. he looked around to see where the guy who did this was. By that time, that guy already ran away, knowing that he'd get in major trouble. He'll never forgive that piece of shit for as long as he lives. The coughing sounds coming from Jaebum's arms caused him to quickly peer down. Thank God Youngjae was awake. He coughed up some water, suddenly beginning to shiver. "H-hyung..." he murmured weakly, barely peeking his eyes open. Jaebum's grip only tightened, concerned when feeling exactly how much the other was shivering. "Cold...cold..." "It'll be okay, Youngjae, you're going to okay," Jaebum reassured in a panicked voice as he took off his own hoodie and wrapped it around Youngjae's body. It was true that his skin felt almost ice cold, and that scared the elder. His eyes weakly opened, squinting at the one staring down at him. "Hyung...?" "Y-yeah. It's me, Jaebum." Youngjae wrapped his arms around the other's broader torso and stuffed his face into his chest. he was sobbing silently, his legs curling up unconfidently as he did so. Jaebum embraced him as though that the last time he would ever touch Youngjae, rubbing his back. "Iwas so scared...I can't swim...deep water..." "I get it, Youngjae, you don't have to say anything." Jaebum cooed as soothingly as he could, although that was difficult because he was freaking out too. Youngjae's shoulders quivered as he sniffed. "I'm so glad that you're here... Jaebum-hyung..."

"Youngjae..." Jaebum had carried the freezing and shocked Youngjae over to a sunny spot behind the gym, a place where teachers usually never visit. Youngjae's eyes seemed sleepy as he shivered, Jaebum locking his arms around his body to preserve warmth. Both of their backpacks were also there. After Jaebum had burst out of classroom without saying anything to his teacher, he had found Youngjae's backpack thrown in the hallway. Carrying both of them, he’d run straight to the pool. That was his story up to the point where he found Youngjae being pulled dangerously close to the diving pool, and where his anger rose up to impossible levels. At least he was okay now. "Hyung..." Youngjae called out softly, coughing a few times. "You were the one who saved me, weren't you...?" Jaebum nodded. He brought Youngjae closer, leaning against one of the warehouses for sports equipment. "Yeah." Something made Jaebum's eyes blink, glistening ever so brightly. It was Youngjae's smiling face, staring up at the elder. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Shocked frozen for a second, Jaebum eventually returned a smile for the other in his arms. "No problem, Youngjae." He leaned down to nuzzle his face into the other's neck, breathing softly. "I'm sorry for yelling at you and slapping you. I really am," Youngjae said out of nowhere, sighing as he exclaimed so. He shifted his body so that he'd be even closer to Jaebum, feeling the comforting warmth of him. "I was just so... confused. I was scared at myself for being so mad that I guess I...tried to avoid you for a bit." "Mhm," Jaebum murmured, sighing into the soft and slightly wet skin. "I understand. I knew I should've told you earlier, but I was too dense to realize what it was doing to you." "It's okay." Youngjae was staring blankly at the scenery in front of them: cement, tall wire fences, and a few trees. "It really is alright. I've come to realize that I love the person called Def Soul' and that you are Def Soul. and how, by that logic, I love you." Youngjae peered up in order to look at Jaebum. "Jaebummie-hyung. It's always been you, hasn't it?" Although Jaebum was speechless for a second or two, he started to laugh softly. He loved this kid called Choi Youngjae. "I guess so." Jaebum reached over for his backpack and unzipped it, taking out something. "What's that?" Jaebum grinned to himself as he took out the small bag of homemade cookies. He opened it, taking one of the treats out and holding it between two fingers. "Have you eaten breakfast? Did you bring a lunch? If not..." Jaebum said in a singsong tone, pouting his lips in a rather cute way. "...Think about me, and then... eat." He stuffed the cookie into Youngjae's mouth. Chewing on it, the other giggled softly. "Thanks," he said as crumbs fell from his lips. "Hey," he whistled quietly. "Did you know that I used to be called fat constantly by these girls?" Jaebum's happy expression immediately dropped to a frown. "What? Who?" "I don't know." For some reason, the smile on Youngjae's face never faded away. "They just did for fun, I guess. They would come up to me during lunch especially and just whisper 'hey fatso.' So I thought about it a lot and decided that maybe I am fat. I didn't like how they would pick on me so I looked up how to lose weight. My naïve self ended up believing that skipping lunch and breakfast would be the best way to lose weight." Youngjae's chest rose high up and back down, which was something Jaebum's arms felt. "I was pretty unhappy and hungry, but I still kept doing it. My friends nagged me to eat. I wouldn't listen to them, though. So this is the strange part, right? Every piece of food you gave me, I would eat it happily and completely forget about starving myself. I totally forgot about trying to lose weight and whatnot. Which is weird, isn't it? Because I had no idea who you were, but you were still able to persuade me." "You literally cured this bad side of me, I think. You really are an amazing person, hyung," Youngjae finished with a big, wide smile and pat Jaebum, who was on the verge of tears, on the arm. "God... Youngjae...I'm so in love with you," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Are you still cold?" "Nope," Youngjae replied cheerfully, taking the piece of clothing from his torso and handing it back to the other. He went over to where his backpack was and hung it over his shoulder, throwing the other bag to Jaebum. "Do you want to go back to class?" "Not one bit," Jaebum laughed as he said so, also standing on his feet and carrying his backpack. He stood beside Youngjae, crossing his arms. "You should get a new change of clothes or you'll catch a cold." "Hm... yeah..." Peering down at his wet shirt and fanning it, he pursed his lips. "I don't have spare clothes, though." "You do at home." Youngjae grinned. He took ahold of Jaebum's hand, weaving their fingers together. "Come with me." "To ditch school?" "Yeah." The two started taking the back route of the school, planning to leave through the back gates. The gates were locked, they found, but Jaebum was able to help Youngjae jump over them. In Youngjae's free hand was the bag of cookies he received. He had all intentions to finish them once he was back at warm home. Before they took any more steps, Youngjae gave a gentle kiss to Jaebum's lips. He was unbelievably happy; it was like the times he yelled at him and cried because of him had never even happened. After all, those things only happened because of Youngjae's confused, naïve heart. Without the worry of being fat or not clouding his vision, he could clearly see that Jaebum was someone he loved. The only person who even when he was down; someone who would take care of him like he was born to do so. It was always the person he knew as Im Jaebum. Def Soul' was just Jaebum with a pair of sunglasses as a mask. That anonymous food donator and note writer was Jaebum too. He had all sorts of identities that Youngjae misunderstood, but he knew now that they all made up to be the same genuinely kind, benevolent person. "Let's go."

[peetarmelark]

so i havent made a life update in the longest fucking time. i used to make these constantly. idk. but i am going through my blog and my posts from last year. and i got super fucking emotional because i have come so damn far. like i didnt really say anything concrete about what happened. but damn. im so different

like i got cheated on repeatedly by my ex. left for someone else. abused. like just treated like a piece of shit (im not going to go into the specifics because honestly i cant be bothered)

my heart was so broken 

i lost all my friends. every single one. because of it

lost the job that i loved so much because it turned so toxic. so i was pretty much forced to leave

had no idea where i was going in life, my career path was literally destroyed 

my mental health was in the gutter. i was vomiting pretty much everyday from anxiety. i was so depressed. i spent hours just sitting on my bed. doing nothing. not touching my phone just looking at the wall

i stopped eating and lost almost 20kgs from anxiety and being in an abusive relationship 

i was gossiped about and fucking bullied at the workplace. and called disgusting things

i got fired so spectacularly from my first full time job. and when it did happen she insulted me so badly for 2 hours that i literally could sue and shut down the company it was so bad. also it was in front of my work colleagues. 

my dad got super sick and it was really bad. and it happened like 2 weeks after my breakup. it happened on a plane, and he had to go to hospital straight after. hes okay now. but yeah just alcohol and personality disorders. and just health stuff. it was super bad

like it was just rockbottom. and everything made me so sad and miserable. i just could not be happy

like man 2016 was fucking shit

but my life is completely different????

im exercising and getting super fit and losing weight in a healthy way. im eating super good food. and walking all the time. and going to gym classes and doing intense exercise routines

im going back to uni this year and im probably going to start studying psychology since i love people and helping people

i started an art business!!!!! which is still in the works but im so proud of it. and i have commissions and yeah its just amazing

i have amazing friends around me!! i have reconnected with old and also made new friends. im going out for drinks with the girls all the time. and going to movies. and just doing stupid fun stuff

im kinda super into someone??? and hes so lovely, and so so so so sooo attractive. and its nothing at all so far. but it could be something. and its very exciting. its the first kinda thing where im like yeah, i would want to date you and stuff. 

im doing a bartending course, and im going to be working in the city. and im so so so excited about this. 

my mental health is so good. im genuinely happy. not forced happy. like actually happy. and im starting to just feel like everything is okay 

im really over what happened in 2016. its in the past and i feel like im finally able to move on 

im doing way more things in the community now, like going to cycle glasses, going to different groups, starting volunteering, and art classes

and everyday things are making me happy. like im dancing in my undies to the new selena gomez song in the middle of the night on full blast. and im making my own lemonade just because. and im starting to get addicted to tv shows again, like riverdale and the walking dead. and im loving going for long walks on the beach track, and the sun is on my face with my gorgeous dog. 

my dad is moving up to sydney so ill be able to travel up there every few weeks and relax on the beaches and hang out with my extended family 

i might be traveling around europe in may which is soo exciting 

i know this is long. and way to personal, but last year was honestly so hard. but idk, i just want you to know that if your life does ever fall apart. in literally every single way possible, i promise you its going to be fine. and that rock bottom will be the best thing thats ever happened to you. you will grow into someone so strong and so amazing. also just a tip if you want to help change your life. start with yourself, and self care. do the things that make you happy and that you love to do. and love yourself. things slowly start to fall into place. im not there completely yet, but im on my way. 

trust me if i can do it. you can. just keep going 

[dreamy-stars]

1/1/20

holy shit i haven’t spilled any thoughts in so long! i’ve changed so much! and i’m happier now. it’s a new decade! i have so much to say

2019 was a great year as i actually did things that would have made me uncomfortable. spring semester of 2019 was a shitshow i think i dropped a class and only took three. dropped diff eq with the bald guy and i remember sitting in class no thoughts head empty and trying not to cry. and then going to some tables on campus and calling mom and bawling and apologizing. somehow i got through the semester after crying over tests and assignments. OH i started lifting weights and working out and i love it. i love being strong. being healthy is something i’ve always wanted to work towards and the women on weights program was so enjoyable. i was trying to get rly toned to look good for the nct concert actually. unfortunately i haven’t worked out much since it ended :( hoping to get back into the gym once the semester starts again. i wanna be RIPPED for summer 2020 >:)

working at sweet hut was a great experience as i was able to learn more about myself and add to my resume! i actually learn pretty fast and even though i messed up a handful of times i just want to give myself some credit hehe. i liked making new friends there, as well as bonding with my cousin more. before, i would be a bit afraid of the long silences, but now we talk about whatever and never shut up <3 working a customer service job made me appreciate the fact that i am still working towards a degree. i don’t think i could do that for an extended period. my feet hurt every day and my hands were so dry and getting blisters like crazy. ofc night shift is crazy but i loved getting tons of tips each night. We Live In A Society. i think i became more confident in small talk? idk being on the register made me better but i didn’t even do it much. i also value customer service and tipping much more i always try to tip when i can. anyway i miss making drinks and burning the sugar on the creme brule. 

after working i became more motivated to work hard in fall semester. for this semester i picked two classes to be on the other campus so i could see if i could actually talk to ppl. it wasn’t that much of a change but ppl are much more open to talking in the first week i guess. i’m gonna miss that. joining vsa was the best decision this year i think. it took some courage to talk to ppl first but working at SH helped me ton. because of that i made friends outside of class isn’t that wild? too bad it’s on the other campus bc i would go more often. i think my schedule might not work with vsa next semester idk :/ i went to my first College Party this year which was so much fun! i was nervous bc i only knew like three ppl but just mingle-ing is fun when ur buzzed. i think my tolerance is pretty high idk how many shots i took :| anyway hanging out with new friends i made makes me happy. definitely a highlight of this year! also school went better than before!!! my grades are not the best but i know i put in work so i think it’s okay. also i need to stop relying on chegg so much LMAO...commuting was harsh on me and took up SOOO much time. i only skipped class a couple times (mainly bc i was sick) so i’m proud. didn’t take classes on other campus this semester bc i’m lazy and would rather spend time studying in the library nearby. 

love life is sad still. chemistry is SO important. i think through text is just as important as irl. i went on a date with this guy that was a boring and unfunny texter and was like lemme give it a shot maybe its diff irl. it was alright but so....boring like no flirting like....    also he was younger and i hate younger guys...feeling like a hag... anyway this semester im hoping to go on a date with a girl instead. i thought i had a crush on oomf but it was like for a week. idk if it would ever happen but i rly like his personality and humor. 2020 pls let me have a lover im bored lemme emotionally depend on someone

stanning bts is getting so hard tbh. i can barely keep up with content from LAST YEAR. so much happens. i only go on ig like twice a day and i go to like ten ppl’s twt i dont even scroll down the tl bc it overwhelms me LOL. just looking at bts overwhelms me like i feel anxious sometimes? bc i’m missing out on stuff...idk how to explain it but i think the mama speech from 2018 made me...humble? less focused? on them? like i don’t wanna be so attached and when the day comes that they d*sband i lose my mind. bc i was so devastated that day. kinda made me chill out. being busy with school and work also made it hard to focus on them. guess i really am growing up..but also i became so obsessed with nct i love the nct daily channel LMAO feels like i’m cheating but their content is easy to digest and i don’t get so emotionally invested i guess. when i watch bts i sit there and FOCUS and give them my full attention. nct is for after hw and just to chill. do i make sense? but as i’m on break and watching bts performances and run episodes, i realize how much i missed watching them. i love them so much still and always will! sometimes it shocks me how huge they are. like you can’t compare them to anyone now. they are the highest achieving group i think. PERIODT fjlajajhka thinking back to when they were smaller and i told myself i would support them no matter what and i didn’t care if they didn’t get big like i genuinely loved them and now they are loved worldwide like....my babies.....<3 uwu...it’s crazy how much they’ve achieved in 6 years. i’m so happy for them.

also shinee’s whole discography is on spotify now! i was listening to it the other day and CRYING like a baby. i miss jjong so much especially his voice. i remember being 11/12 and spending hours watching the shows they were on i really miss stanning them. their music brings back so many feelings. ugh so good.

my mental health has been pretty good this year i didn’t cry much and the source of my stress and sadness is always school. fall semester was pretty good. i learned recently that i get jealous over ppl only a little though. it just passes by in thought but i don’t voice it to anyone bc it’s stupid LMAO. i don’t think the jealousy is that bad just minor.

2019 was a great year. i never really noticed the changes and growth i experienced but it was really apparent this year and i’m glad i am evolving :) my goal for this year is to get fit and be more comfortable in the gym, gain experience in my field through joining clubs, and be even more social (also be better at driving hehe) i’m very thankful for those around me and i hope to be closer to friends in 2020. looking forward to going to vn in the summer!

let’s have a great 2020 jen! ♡

[killcapitalizm]

the louvre (no tw); peter parker

request; can you do an imagine where reader has a crush on peter even though he and michelle were dating in high school (which makes the reader distance themselves from the group) and after they graduate, peter finds them and says that he and michelle didn’t work out? then the reader finds out it was because he liked the reader the whole time. sorry if this is confusing and super long!!

word count; 2,981

warnings; angst, this wasnt edited

a/n; SSCREAMS IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ugh im disappointed in myself.. theres gonna be more parts to this im currently writing the next one dw. listened to the louvre by lorde while writing this. love u

tags; @kaliforniacoastalteens

Your name: submit What is this?

You had supposedly gotten over Peter a few months ago, when you'd accepted the fact that he and MJ– or rather, Michelle, you remembered, she's Michelle to me now, isn't she– were dating and you'd finally ceased intentional contact with him after painfully long weeks of being too busy, too sick, too tired, too hurt; and you have yet to admit that last one. With Peter's absence of course came Michelle's, they were a couple and therefore somewhat of a packaged deal. That was no surprise to you, when you regretfully unwound yourself from Peter you had known that you'd lose Michelle, too. What you hadn't expected was the sudden absence of Ned– someone who you had grown quite close to. Even Liz was separated from you, so subtly you nearly hadn't noticed she was gone. In the first few seconds of hurt and loneliness and confusion, you were awfully lost. But then you considered: you met Ned and Liz through Peter and indeed they were closer to him than you'd ever be, ever been. And so you start from scratch.

You tried your absolute best to make some friends in each of your classes. You swallowed that familiar feeling of fear-filled blankness and managed to talk to one person in each of your classes. They all had their own pre-established friend groups that you knew you wouldn't be able to be a part of, but you gratefully settled for acquaintances that would give you a partner in class and someone to ask for notes when you were out for a day or two. You lived without a friend for the last four months of your senior year, right up to graduation where you saw Peter and Michelle kiss under the shade of a city tree in front of the school and then you caught Ned's eye later and his mirrored yours, but softer. Never before had you weeped over being unable to text a friend about how entirely shitty you felt because your mother was angry again and, more importantly, you missed them, but in that summer you stained your pillow at midnight as your back and legs and chest ached as if they were holding your bruising sorrows. Your parents weren't home that night when you were crying, crying for hours into the early, early morning. You cried until you had no more tears to cry, and you simply wailed to yourself, exhausted an drowsy but unable to sleep because you felt too terrible to be able to rest. Those kinds of nights don't happen often but you hate that they happen at all.

On your first day of your new job at a popular bookstore, you were glad it was chilly so that your red eyes and nose and cheeks were excusable. You brought eye drops and hoped the red would drain from your face before anybody noticed that it wasn't the cold causing it and you told yourself that if it did fade then you wouldn't have that night for another two months, and when you walked in you saw no one you knew until you turned your head and saw Ned, you saw Ned in the soft yellow light of the morning and you nearly cried because you saw him like that many times before, with Peter at sleepovers when you'd wake up early and again with Peter again when you'd walk to school with them. He saw you and smiled at you, and didn't look away in that don't-talk-to-me way but instead he glanced down at the empty area next to him behind the register then back up at you. You were terrified in that anxious, empty way but you yearned for a familiar friendship, so you walked over to him and spoke too much right away.

"I've missed you." You didn't sound polite or happy and that's what made it sincere.

"Oh, thank god," Ned says. "I thought it was one-sided."

"Is it?" You ask still, but you're smiling brightly for the first time since you cleared your phone contacts.

Ned snorts. "I would assume you'd infer from what I said that it's not, but whatever. I've missed you, too."

It was in that moment that Ned forgave you; in the same moment he realized there was anything to forgive you for. While Peter had dejectedly told him you were probably avoiding him because of something he did (Ned knew it was because he was together with MJ), he had still missed you without an answer, missed you in the same way you'd miss a friend the night after a sleepover, when you turn in your bed in heavy solitude and whisper to the wall that they hadn't slept next to, because if you'd look to the space where their mumbles had been then you wouldn't sleep all night. Your absence had him turn over to the wrong wall, and that hurt him.

You remember the time Ned had accidentally tripped you in gym class back in your junior year and you saw him nearly cry, then you spoke again. "I'm sorry." For what, Y/N? You try again, "I'm sorry for leaving you and not talking to you. That you had to miss me. I missed you a lot. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," says Ned, "I forgive you." He forgave you twice, because he hadn't realized how satisfyingly pleasant it feels when someone doesn't have to apologize but they do with their heart.

"Thank you," you say, because he welcomed you after you had cut him off for so long and he shouldn't have smiled so dearly at you, and you're grateful.

Ned helps you with your new job that day, then that week, and into the next week. You add his number back onto your phone and write it down in your journal that you've stopped writing in ever since Peter told you with so much joy and love that he was dating Michelle. You try not to think of them, just of how much you missed him and her each as their own. If you think of them, then that night you'd weep and weep until you felt so pained and sick that you shook, curling up and holding yourself as you hoped you'd fall asleep. You don't tell Ned about those nights and you don't ask about them, you don't ask about Peter at all but you know he's talking about him when he says "my friend," or more often, "a buddy of mine."

But Ned is smart, and he knows you had liked Peter back then and because you never ask about his friend (he knows that you know who he's talking about), he knows you like him now. He also knows that Peter and MJ broke up, he knows why and how and when and where and the boy was a boy of the Earth, he is rooted to the ground and because of that he knows it's not his place to tell you all of that. Ever-growing with the kindest smile, he knows that Peter needs to tell you himself if you're to ever know. And he wants you to know, so he decides that five weeks of talking daily with you, after reattaching yourself to him and him to you, that he'd start to reconnect you and Peter. He starts off conveniently.

"Look, dude, just get it over with and you'll feel better… What? Peter, no, you need a job, you're eighteen now–" Ned spots you walk in early one Thursday morning and talks just loud enough into his phone so that you could hear him say Peter. Surely enough, you duck your head as if you hadn't been listening. His name out of Ned's mouth, so bright like you remembered it, twists your heart. "Hey, man, I gotta go and you do too. You got this, I know you do. See ya'."

You stop beside Ned as he hangs up and tucks his phone into his back pocket. As always, you greet him with the biggest smile you can manage. These days, it's been some of your brightest, full ear-to-ear grins, but today you barely show your teeth. He notices and for a second he rethinks his plan, but you still love Peter and he knows he loves you too so he keeps going. "What was that all about?" You instantly regret that, but it flew out of your mouth before you could think of another conversation starter.

"Peter, actually," he does his best to sound gentle, but you inhale sharply at his name anyway. "He's going for a job interview later today and he's panicking again. As always. But I know he'll do just fine."

You were silent for a second too long, quickly spitting out something when you realized it. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, he was always like that… panicky. 'N stuff. Before things. He always did good and… yeah." You straighten your back and shift your weight from leg to leg, a poor attempt at looking casual that really just made you look just as nervous as you felt. You were looking down at Ned's shirt with a pleading gaze that he surely saw, begging him silently to just leave it be, to change topics, to not say his name again. He saw all of that, but he knew he had to.

He looked sympathetically at you as he spoke again, "Speaking of him, I think we should all meet up sometime or whatever. It's been a really long time since we hung out." He sounded like he was hurt, feeling awful for putting this on you but knowing it'll end up better in the end if you're willing to work with him.

You, on the other hand, sounded genuinely wounded. "Y-Yeah." You nearly wheezed. Unconsciously, your hand rested on your hip, angled so that your palm was more on the back of your hip. Ever since you could remember, emotional stress would center at your back and slowly start to crawl down your limbs. Always starting in your lower back, it ached with whatever you felt, then burned its way up, making the spot between your shoulders sore, then shooting down to your legs. If Ned insisted on talking about this for very long, you'd have to bring a stool to the register with you today. "I mean, I don't really think… he'd want to see me. After what I did."

"Actually, he really misses you." Gosh, he was trying so hard to be soft, but it felt like he was smothering you with a pillow. While he wasn't lying, he hadn't actually told Peter he's been hanging out with you. "He'd love to meet up sometime– I'll ask him later today. You can set the date."

"He…" misses me? you finish in your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, blood rushing up your neck and kicking your brain, then rushing back down before starting again. You were growing a bit of a headache, maybe from staying up late last night but maybe the aches were skipping your limbs today and getting right to your head, towards the back where it wouldn't let you lay down on your back later. "Uh… Yeah. Y-Yeah, I'll– I… Sure. Sometime."

Ned watched your discomfort with a wince that went unnoticed. He reminded himself it would get worse before it got better. "Anyway, we should start preparing. We open in an hour," he said, trying to edge you away from the topic, although it was too late to stop the images and memories of Peter from firmly planting themselves in your head. You nodded once, slightly, then again with more motion. That day, you made sure to never be seen without a water bottle so that you had an excuse when someone asked you why you were going to the bathroom so much. You'd go when your started thinking too much, to the point that it interfered with your ability to shelve books and even think to yourself a single, coherent thought. You'd excuse yourself, rush in, and find yourself gasping for air that you hadn't realized you lost.

You went home that day feeling more alone than not, despite the sudden vague reconnection with Peter. But you shouldn't be surprised, the thought of the boy has been a presence of loneliness for a while now. When you think of him, it's as if you're thinking yourself into a void, where you detach from the Earth, as if you exist in your body but your body does not exist in the world and it simply moves around in it. Sometimes you suspect that because you feel something so drastic and real that Peter wasn't the only cause of it, but it did you better to not think too deeply so that you don't return to work the next day with red eyes and darkish bags that hung underneath them. You went home that day and asked Ned to call you, because you hid your tears from him and knew that if he were with you in any way that you would be able to keep your promise of two months of freedom. When Ned was gone, you moved to the TV to distract you. Then you pulled out your phone and decided to read something, then opened up your laptop to watch a YouTube video, and after a minute you retrieved a book to read and a comic to look at– you were doing everything and nothing at once but what you weren't doing was sobbing and that was, in the end, what you wanted. You trembled a bit when you settled in bed that night, your body detached from the Earth for a while when you panicked in your (too) many thoughts of Peter and other things, although you don't remember what those other things are because its easier to just say one thing, despite him being the hardest thing to say at all. You had to stumble out of bed and lay on the ground– on your side because the very back of your head still hurt– look at things in your room one at a time, then listen to things outside one at a time, tell yourself what apricots and your favorite tea taste like before you could finally feel the carpet beneath you again. Your head spun with busyness and contradictions as you got back in bed, but you slept right away and that was all left to touch in the morning.

And Ned was true to his word; when he had to hang up to catch a bus, he made sure to text Peter when he got a seat. It took him ten tries, but he decided to bluntly tell Peter that he's been talking to you, and then gently ease into his proposal of hanging out again. Then, because he stayed with Peter in those months you were gone, he felt it was right to hook another text onto that one: he knew you felt something for him, and he told Peter that he didn't knew exactly what you were feeling (and that you probably didn't either) but that it was something reminiscent of strong love, broken love, fear, and a lot of missing him. You had looked bewildered at the mention of Peter, and he told him that, too. Told him that he should try with you. Told him that you needed him to try with you, or, at the very least, you needed him (not him, but him there, you needed his nearness, the familiarity Ned had fulfilled had to be filled by more than just him). And Peter answered with time, so he went back to the usual, being the Earth boy he always was, sleeping close to the ground on the first floor of a cheap apartment that looked magical later that week when he taped up all of his posters and switched out the bright, fluorescent white lights for the yellowed lights he always preferred because they look more like sunlight.

So Peter, in his dress shirt and nice pants and new shoes, sitting with his back straight against the wall near the entrance of his apartment, still sweating from the conversation that had happened hours earlier, closed his eyes and remembered you in the moonlight like you had remembered him and Ned in the sunlight, he remembered those many late night conversations he had with you in which he was filled to the brim with nothing but nerves and stress and anxiety, he remembered how you'd remind him all night and day and week that he was important and needed and okay and here, on this planet, in this town, living and breathing and growing and that he's not as small as he felt nor as big as he fears. He remembered how you'd call him sunshine, sunshine and he told Ned that he needs you because he wants to hear that again. A sky boy he was– he was constricted and bound by his own breathing so he threw off his clothes, pulled on his suit of red and blue, and sprinted across the roof of a long, tall building so he could jump off and then web himself to the next building. He toppled over and rolled along the hard surface of what was probably some apartment complex, he stared up at the last sky blues for the day and panted. His throat burned with his wheezes, but soon he smelled the city and smiled, deep in his mind he was sure that you'd call him sunshine, sunshine again soon. He slept long after you and Ned had fallen to slumber, after flying around buildings and waving at an infant and helping an older couple catch their bus.