#worst comes to worst i can tell my parents they went missing for unrelated reasons & theyll help me hire a locksmith but still

[chiritori]

locked out of my apartment and my landlord says it's not her problem 😐

[moondustis]

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more)  word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams 

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens!  disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named. 

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it! 

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops?  A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.  

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.  

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face,  and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but  instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking  “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him.  “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.  

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.  

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and  even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he  shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too.  Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind,  Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way.  You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock  makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.    

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours.  “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest.  “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant,  and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?”  Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind.  And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about?  Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze.  “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it,  you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know.  “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out  and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you  think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

[6ad6ro]

there's a lot of posts about piracy going around rn. so here's mine:

anti-piracy arguments are almost always classist. you shouldn't need to be rich to be happy. we were all born into capitalism. it's not voluntary. many of us don't have parents or other support networks keeping us afloat. poor people still deserve to have nice things. i could care less about keeping a system running smoothly that keeps most people poor and only few people rich.

if you work a shitty, low-paying job, then a simple monthly streaming service fee is YES actually too much to ask. no i don't care if your fav big company loses "potential" money from people who couldn't afford to buy them to begin with.

if there wasn't such a thing as "poverty"? if people could generally AFFORD to go out and easily get the things they want and need? obviously piracy wouldn’t be much of an issue at all. it's always frustrating to hear anti-piracy arguments from people who ignore how CRAZY expensive cost of living has become. again, usually the biggest anti-piracy peeps are either naive rich kids (who have things paid for), rich ppl who STAY rich by keeping things broken like they are, and the poor people they’ve brainwashed into being submissive hosts to their parasitic behavior.

in a world like this, where people are overworked and tired? with very few tangible goals available in their future? people NEED entertainment to stay sane. it's literally a mental health issue. yes, in a way, you NEED that funny show to inspire yourself to keep going. that game you can't afford otherwise? will help you relax after a hard day. don't let some disney mouthpiece tell you shouldn't download lion king if it'd help calm you down, especially when the people running that company could probably afford to have a private zoo in their backyard.

there's ALSO the big issue of control. as companies move further and further into streaming and cloud technologies? ownership has become a huge issue. greedy companies are finding more and more ways to nickel and dime people over long periods of time rather than get a one-time fee. it makes them more money, they don't have to actually GIVE customers anything (copies of data are free to them). and customers are left with nothing to show for it after-the-fact. this means that even though entertainment is being produced way more than the past? i’d argue people have LESS access to the entertainment they want for how much they’re paying. because it’s all temporary.

drm and limited use is becoming a norm. meaning? it's harder and harder for people to "own" their favorite things even if they COULD afford it. your favorite movie might simply cease to exist in 20 years. your favorite game might become nothing but a fragmented memory.

"piracy" solves this. backups. ownership. it takes control away from companies who abused that power. and puts it back in your hands. when nintendo stopped making their back catalogue available? and went around shutting down all the emulation sites? i was thankfully in the clear. because i download and archived many of my favorite things. in many cases i own cartridges of my favorite games already? but those can break, or in my case, get caught in a flood. but due to piracy, i can still play "mario 64" to pull myself away from suicidal thoughts. and i'm not limited by nintendo randomly deciding to remove it from the switch store and take the cartridges off of store shelves? in order to drive up their yearly profit via copycatting the methods used for the "disney vault" scam (look it up).

i am someone who tends to enjoy things from other countries. but it can be INCREDIBLY restrictive to try to go through "official" channels attempting to pay for them. if i want that old, relatively unpopular 80s japanese prog rock album? i'm just stuck. i HAVE to hope someone is sharing it online. but this often applies to new things as well. "licensing" is generally INCREDIBLY stupid, especially when it comes to other regions. do you REALLY want simple licensing issues to stand between you and your potential new favorite anime? and in many cases, the distributors just don't care enough to make the thing available globally. and no, i don't think this should mean we all just "miss out".

one of the biggest issues we are experiencing online at the moment? is one of censorship. governmental censorship, religious censorship, and maybe worst of all? corporate censorship. i'm not talking about "bring back racist imagery" etc (but that DOES play a part). i'm more talking... rewriting history. edits. removal. for example, it shouldn't be left to some corporation to decide whether or not a sex scene in a movie is deemed "too racy" for today's audience. if somebody creates an amazing album, but then commits some awful unrelated act later, that shouldn't mean that album should be made unavailable. in many cases, old media can even TEACH us what NOT to do. we gain nothing by erasing history. and corporations are never doing it to be moral. they're only following required guidelines in order to maximize profit. “fake showings of morality” to keep up appearances and keep all potential buyers buying. piracy can give you the OPTION of access to unedited works, or things that have been removed from circulation.

piracy can negate corporate control and artificial-scarcity. create opportunities for absorbing other culture's art without having to deal with availability issues in your country. it circumvents corporate and governmental censorship. and helps you archive the art that makes your life worth living.

finally... the "but it's stealing and stealing is wrong" argument is invalidated by the fact that, by ANY moral compass? these companies are STEALING from US. constantly. by a LOT. look at the way any big company is run. the way it leeches off of it's customer base. the offshore tax havens... does THAT seem okay to YOU?! if someone went around stealing all the food and locking it up, would you REALLY consider "breaking in" to get some so that u didn't starve as "stealing"? don't pretend that you don't NEED escapism and entertainment to get by. you know that you do.

the only people that piracy COULD hurt? is small, independent artists. who, if you actually listen to them, would rather you send them money directly? or buy merch. etc. because companies usually take SUCH an awful cut that it’s better to find alternate ways of supporting them. if you use reasonable context with what you decide to download and share? it’s fine! like i might buy a depeche mode vinyl or two? or a shirt. or go to a concert. but i’ll pirate that $1000 rare box set. because i just can’t AFFORD that kind of excess. and my income doesn’t dictate how big of a fan i am of their music. as long as you chip in when you can to your favorite creators? it’s actually fine. if i didn’t pirate, i wouldn’t be into 95% of the artists i’m currently into. i’ve spent so much on media that it’s almost embarrassing... my argument might not be entirely black and white? but i can safely say that piracy’s positives GREATLY outweigh it’s negatives. most research done has shown time and time again that it doesn’t really hurt creators. if anything, it’s the way greedy companies REACT to the idea of file sharing that hurts those creators. it really is an argument of big corporations trying to make sure they keep ALL the money. and it has almost nothing to do with art or artist’s rights. so please keep sharing everything. download away. for the sake of your own sanity, and generations down the line. because corporations don’t care about you. they don’t care about artists. and they don’t care about maintaining easy access to the art. they just want money, regardless of the cost to everyone else’s happiness. and if you can afford to PAY for it regularly? you should consider yourself very lucky. so maybe stop shitting all over poor people who unfairly have less access to what you already have. everybody deserves to be happy.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {3}

Summary: When emotions run high, even soulmates fight. But, following his brother’s advice, Ethan finds a way to make up for it by including his soulmate in solving a conspiracy theory leading to events that would surely make them much closer than they first were. Plus, it shows what a dynamic duo they make.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing

Word count: 7.5k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Induratize – to make one’s own heart hardened or resistant to someone’s pleas or advances, or the idea of love

Pain. That's her first grasp on reality. It's not something she's unused to; just as she's used to the smell of the disinfectant, Y/N knew of pain in all varieties. However, for the first time ever, she had something different in a hospital setting - a hand to hold.

From time to time, Ethan’s eyes drop to the bed sheets, but mostly they are fixed on her ashen face in a soft stare so that whenever she opens her eyes he’d be the first thing she sees. And once he notices her fingers twitch in his hold, he holds his breath in anticipation of her reaction. He feared she might be unhappy with his presence, but he refused to let go, simply closing his eyes to hide his vigilance.

Opening her eyes in a flash, her neck cracked with the sudden movement for she had to see who the hand belonged to. For a moment she thought it might be one of her parents, the painkillers playing with her mind, making her forget. But she knew it couldn't be them. It was impossible unless there was a new drug that raises the dead.

"Grant?" She croaked, her throat scratchy and her voice hoarse, the consequences of her throat closing leaving her with something to remember for a few days. Who knew she'd manage to get a penicillin allergy after her...fiftieth time taking it? She always felt like a magnet for bad luck and that incident didn't dissuade her.

Ethan wasn't really asleep, not after the night he's had. She needed oxygen more than once and her blood pressure kept dropping even with his efforts to keep it up. It felt like she decided to leave him and no matter how badly he fought for her, she was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Yes?" He murmured, eyes still closed, lips set in a frown as if hearing her call him Grant didn't make his heart jump. He wasn't a morning person and she just realized it. Three nights they've truly known each other, three nights spent together and only on the third did she stay long enough to learn that and the only reason why she stayed is because she was physically incapable of leaving.

"Do I have the fucking plague?" She cracked a smile, struggling to speak but for a reason she couldn't quite understand, Y/N wanted to speak to him, for him, to make him laugh. The frown on his face hurt her more than it should.

She didn't get a smile, but he did open one eye in uncertainty, allowing him to bask in her meek smile. It wasn't much to someone watching from the sidelines, but it meant the world to him. She wanted to cheer him up. She wanted to see him smile. Even with her know it all, sassy, fuck the world mask, Y/N cared for Ethan and he knew that now. Even if that part of her is small, it's a start. Her heart may be hardened to love and soulmates, but he was softening her up. It’s a slow, difficult process, but Ethan is nothing if not dedicated.

"No. Neither of us got the plague, but the man who did have it died." Ethan told her, deciding hiding it from her isn't wise. She'd ask about him anyway.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand out of his, wiping it on the sheets as if his touch is unwanted - as if he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

"Great, so when can I get back to work?" She propped herself up on her elbows, willing to get back on her feet. In her ambition to get back in the operating room, Y/N completely missed the dismissive shake of Ethan's head and the way he jumped to his feet to pull her back.

"You're not going anywhere. In fact, you're on leave for the next week." Ethan stated, a little harshly for his taste but she gets his blood boiling way too easily and he always falls for it. She's a beautiful woman, but it's not her beauty that drives him insane.

"What do you mean? I'm an intern! Interns don't take sick days!" She insisted, sitting right back up, the stress his words caused raised her cortisol and adrenaline levels up in an instant. In all his years, he had never met a woman as stubborn as she is. For Ethan, Y/N was either wildly naive or dangerously intelligent and it is the kindness of her heart and the sharpness of her mind that enriched her soul and drew his close.

"Well, they do when their boss says so and I'm saying so. I've talked to the chief and he agrees. So, you better not show up here before next week and when you do come back, you will be doing scut for a week." Eyebrows knit together, eyes hard, Ethan seemed like an unrelenting force she couldn't fight. Not now when sitting up made her woozy and she knew he was right.

Not that's she'd tell him that.

Ever.

"Why scut?! As if being home isn't punishment enough? What am I being punished for? Huh?" Lowering her voice, Y/N felt her heart skip as the thoughts formed in her head and her mouth was quick to follow. Sometimes she acted on impulse and it wasn't always for the better.

"For leaving the morning after? Because I'm not your hookup, Grant, I am your intern. You don't get to tear into me just because I fucked you once." Swallowing thickly as she stared at his impassive face, she knew she went too far and it wasn't the time nor place and far from the way she wanted to address that night. She was just angry, trying to get some control over the situation she had no way of controlling and it absolutely drove her mad. Perhaps she wanted to get a rise out of him too. So she fucked up. She could tell just by the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched and the warm flames in his eyes were extinguished.

"You have your orders. I have nothing else to say to you." Ethan turned on his heel and before she had a chance to stop him, to apologize, to thank him for saving her life, Ethan was already gone and she was left with regret and guilt.

Too used to pushing people away to protect herself, Y/N now spent her time hating herself for being so quick to speak her mind. Maybe if she was softer, playing dumb like men expect girls to, Ethan would have let her come back to work. But no, she couldn't hold her tongue and she could never play dumb to get anyone's approval. She'd hate herself more if she did.

However, she could always annoy him for progress. What more could he do? He already put her in the corner for doing everything right and then he gave her the worst job for a week to keep punishing her! At least she could get some justice by getting on his nerves, texting him random facts about animals, sending him memes on mean bosses and even voicemails where she talks herself to death about how she was right and he wasn't. All she got was Seen and a daily delivery of chicken soup with bagels and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice. The Get Better basket never had a note, but she knew it was his doing. Ethan cared, even if it’s a little and she couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on her lips every morning she received his thoughtful gift.

But Ethan was worse off than her. After finally having her back in his life, he managed to make himself the enemy. And he knew what he was doing was for her own good so she wouldn't make the same mistakes again, so she could use the week off to get back on her feet because going into anaphylactic shock isn't a walk in the park like she pretended to be. If he didn't bench her she would have put her health at risk and he couldn't let her do it.

Eunoia – beautiful thinking, a well mind

"You sent her home?" Grayson whisper shouted, swiftly pulling Ethan into the on-call room.

"She almost died! What am I supposed to do? Put a scalpel in her hand and let her cut someone open when she's barely standing on her own two feet?!" Ethan wasn't quite as quiet as his brother, his emotions on the verge of spilling out like a river once the dam breaks. Ethan always went through the extremes – he either loved too much or didn’t care at all, the same could apply to his temper.

"No, but you could have let her do paperwork? To observe? To watch your department for you?" Grayson listed which made Ethan's eyes widen, realizing he might have been harder on her than he thought. She’s too good at pushing his buttons, he knew it, but this good? For him to think so irrationally he couldn’t understand his own choices or see beyond his emotions? Never did he realize her influence went so deep.

"Just look at it this way: if you got sent home for a week in your intern year, you'd hate the attendee who did it. And she's more than just an intern and you need to be more careful if you want her to see you as more than just her boss. You're acting like a soulmate not a professional." Grayson explained and his clarification had stumped Ethan. He really needs to think before he acts but she makes all rational thought go out the window.

"But I also gave her a week of scut." Ethan sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head. He couldn't take it back just like that because she'd see him as easily manipulated and he couldn't allow that to spread among the other interns. He had to be a little harder than he should if she wanted to know that everything she got was due to her hard work and not because she slept with him or because she is his soulmate.

"You're in big trouble. But I do recommend you to find a way to work with her on something. It doesn't have to be a surgery and it doesn't have to be in this hospital. Find something to connect over."

Thinking how his brother is now the one who has his shit together made Ethan smile but it also made him worry. Isn't Grayson the one who does things impulsively and fucks things up? Seems like that's no longer the case but at least the advice he gave Ethan was enough for him to get an idea.

It took him a couple of days but when inspiration struck, Ethan was so excited for the implementation of his plan for more than one reason – it was for the greater good and he’d get to see her again. Any excuse to do that was more than exhilarating.

He didn't wait after his shift was done, driving to her apartment with the sole intention of convincing her of a theory many would think was insane but he was sure it was a conspiracy she could help him with.

Knocking on her door, he exhaled loudly, shaking his hands vigorously to get the nerves out. It took everything in him to stop himself from running because his heart beating so loudly was driving him insane and quite literally making him panic.

When the door finally cracked open, Y/N peeking through, Ethan felt his heart calm down and his lips pressed together.

After the way she attacked him the last time they saw each other, Ethan didn't expect her to smile at him nor let him in so easily, however, she opened the door widely and gestured for him to come inside.

He was still angry about how she spoke to him, the crudeness of her words making his blood boil but he also missed her in the past five days she had been away and he desperately needed to see her.

"What can I do for you, boss?" She leaned against a wall, looking at him intently with a small smirk upon her lips. It fell odd having him in her private life, as if he was slowly infiltrating every part of her life, making it impossible for her to ignore how badly she wanted to rip his clothes off and ride him until they're both sweaty and tired with loopy, lazy smiles as they hold each other close even after they finish.

Blushing with her thoughts, Y/N cleared her throat as it seemed Ethan wasn't listening to her before and was too busy looking around. He wanted to see her life, the part of her he'd never know if she was just an intern.

He loves the flowery light scent of the room, even more so the colorful yellow walls and green couch. He loved the art hanging on the walls and the way her carpets were all flower themed. Her entire apartment, or at least what he saw so far, had a spring theme and Ethan felt at ease.

"I'm assuming you're here for a reason, not for decorating ideas?" She cocked an eyebrow, speaking louder this time around and it certainly got his attention even if him turning around had made her breath halt in her throat. It enraged her just how attractive he is.

'Why does he have to be so fucking sexy? Like, he’s just kinking his eyebrow and not even in the obvious, over the top way he usually does! He does it so casually, so unaware that it only makes it sexier and damn it, Ethan Grant Dolan, you are ruining men for me!'

But she doesn't say any of her thoughts out loud, only swallows thickly, reminding herself of the reasons why he's not right for her.

"I have a theory and I need your help to confirm it." Swiping his thumb under his bottom lip, Ethan stepped closer. "I had a patient a while ago with breast cancer and her heart was failing due to chemo. After two doses. So, I did some tests and found there were no signs of breast cancer." Ethan waited for her to realize where he's going with this, wanting to see how quick she is on her feet and not even a second later she stood up, no longer casually leaning on the wall.

"So they're giving chemo to earn more money to patients who don't need it? They're purposefully giving people fake cancer diagnosis? How are their stats?" She spoke quickly, passionately as if she was angry, wanting to start a war. And he liked it - the way she thinks, the way her mind works and how it perfectly matched him. What he lacked, she compensated for and what she lacked, he was more than capable to cover for her. They were, despite all odds, a very dynamic duo and Ethan would soon find out just how well they work together.

"They have a ninety percent success rate for breast cancer patients." Ethan noted and he knew she was on board by the way her fists clenched and her eyes hardened. It felt like she was fire and he would have to contain it - contain her, although he’d love to set her loose on the world and see just how extensive the ruin would be.

"Well, I assume you want me to go with you and act like I found a lump so they can misdiagnose me and order me to be on chemo? To see how it works before we burn them to the ground?" She crossed her arms, raising both eyebrows in expectation and even if he wanted to, Ethan would follow her - to the ends of the Earth if necessary.

Forelsket – the euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love

"Welcome to Smooth Cat." Ethan exclaimed as the passenger door closed and she joined him inside. She didn't quite linger on the car, barely sparing it a glance at first and he knew right away no amount of expensive shiny things will win her over. She wanted something deeper than his pockets.

"You named your car Smooth cat?" She deadpanned, her determination for this case wavering as the amusement showed in her eyes. For once, Ethan managed to make her break the cold surface with just words. Although he didn't think it was as ridiculous as her tone made it out to be.

"Don't hate the kitty when it purrs so nicely and runs so smoothly." Ethan responds, his head high and his lips pursed and so dramatically that Y/N had to crack a smile. For a moment, she mistook him for a humorous person, one that she could imagine herself laughing beside her whole damn life and that thought alone made her heart erratic and her mind chaotic.

"So, you plan on letting me come back to work a bit earlier?" She questions, figuring it's worth a shot especially when they have nothing better to talk about and the awkward silence would drive her insane otherwise. She needed the distraction and he posed as the perfect one. Just as he did that first night.

"No. Not after you went into anaphylaxis and I nearly lost you." Attempting to keep his voice calm and his head leveled, Ethan felt like his heart couldn't follow that instruction. It was more than obvious he couldn't just go back on his word. A leader is consistent and in that hospital he is meant to be a leader, not her soulmate. But his words also showed her his feelings run deeper than he shows.

"Can you honestly tell me that this is how you'd treat the others? I'm not trying to start anything but would anyone else have to do scut? Or is this about our history?" Gnawing on her bottom lip, her tongue dancing along the inside of her teeth as she waited for him to respond. She noticed his eyes turning to the screen of his car instead of the road ahead, tapping something before he turned to her entirely, his hands off the wheel and it made her eyes widen. "And can you please not get us killed?!"

"It's a Tesla. Drives itself." Ethan spoke as if that meant anything to her, as if her anxiety didn't spike at the notion of a car driving her to safety on it's own. She didn't believe that would be a safe way of traveling at all, not that Ethan seemed any better.

"And you're right. I wouldn't treat any other intern like this. In fact, if it were any other intern talking back like you did? They would be suspended." And his eyes didn't waver, looking deep into her own without blinking. Ethan meant what he said with every atom of his being and she knew it too. She knew now that she was right; he did treat her differently, she just didn't know it was for the better.

"I was angry." She quipped, swallowing her pride she saw fit to apologize even if it went against everything she wanted to do. "I'm sorry for being an ass to you...in fact, I wanted to thank you for saving my life that night."

Ethan nods, tongue swiping his bottom lip as he opens his mouth to speak. "Which night? The first one felt like I was quite heroic too." Winking, he couldn't help but notice the way she plays with her fingers, fidgeting nervously, affected by the same memories that haunt him.

"It certainly wasn't heroic but it wasn't...anything less than enjoyable either." She remarked, raising an eyebrow at his statement as if she is unbothered when in fact she is very, very bothered and horny and he could probably tell by her shy smile, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction just yet. Not until she knows where his soulmate is. Whoever it is, she needed to know if that person was in his life, to what extent and if he would be able to ignore that she has a soulmate too, wherever they may be...In a way she wondered if he was the one, but life would never serve her such luck. She's used to not getting favorable things...or men in this particular case.

"Oh, I think otherwise. I even have a certain pair of torn up lace panties and a bra to remember it by." Ethan raised his brow just the same, teasing her relentlessly, genuinely curious how red can her cheeks get. Because as much as he tried to, he couldn't forget the moans he evoked or the way her head would fall back with every dance his fingers played on her. She was and still is the muse for every dream, every fantasy and every lonely night he had to take care of himself.

"I -", Ethan leaned in, ready to hear what she has to say, thinking this might be the right time to tell her he's her forever, but Smooth Cat decided cock-blocking is acceptable and announced their arrival.

Clearing her throat, Y/N broke the eye contact, feeling the intensity of his earthly hues deep inside her heart - eyes that hooked her soul to attention only he could provide. "We should probably get in."

With a nod, Ethan opened the door and she followed his example, walking inside without turning back to look at him, determined to do this right. But for that, she had to swallow her pride once more and play the role.

Just as they enter the main hall, Y/N wrapped her arm around Ethan and his heart almost stopped with the sudden contact. She pulled him closer, glancing up at his poorly hidden shock and smiled meekly but her eyes were anything but - her eyes were hard and they were warning him to play along.

"Hi. Could you help us?" The way she asked felt so...polite? So sweet and innocent, too naively put for Ethan to ever buy the act but the sap on the other side seemed fooled.

"Of course, what can I do for you?" The guy smiles nicely, straightening his back ever so slightly to seem more confident.

"My name is Bailey Nolan and this is Grant Nolan, my husband. I, uh..I was doing a little checkup during shower and I think I felt a lump. In my breast." Shifting her voice to a smaller, fragile tone had surprised Ethan because for a moment he actually believed her too. She is all too convincing. Especially on the husband part and he can’t help but tense up when she calls him that, nor can he stop his heart from pounding uncontrollably with the notion. He imagined her calling him her soulmate and husband so many times since they first met, but to hear it felt divine. It felt better than he thought it would and he just wished she could have said it while gazing in his eyes, his arms around her as he holds her close.

Leaning in closer to the receptionist, Y/N glances left before she whispered softly: "I'm scared it might be cancer."

It didn't take long for the two to be accompanied to an examination room. With instructions to prepare for the exam, Ethan and Y/N found themselves alone for a little while.

"Expecting a free show?" Y/N narrowed her eyes at Ethan, her hands clinging to the gown left for her to change into so the examination would go quicker. She was more than willing to lose her clothes that night they met, but that was under the cloak of night and this? Being in a well-lit room with nothing to draw his attention from her body? It didn't make her as happy to strip down and flash her boobs.

"It's not like I haven't seen them before, ya know? I know exactly how they look." Ethan's cocky voice had caught her off guard just as the little step forward he made toward her. With a raised eyebrow and a vain smile Ethan tilts his head and Y/N wanted nothing more but to wipe that smirk off his face. But she couldn't. Not when his words are facts, not fiction and especially not when her body ached for his weight on top of hers.

"I kissed every inch, even the little mole nested right between -", stopping him before he finished his thought, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes set aflame as she felt her face burning, her voice low and cold as she spoke. "I get it, but I'm asking you to stop. To not look at me now and not look at me during the ultrasound and please, for the love of God, bring me my bra back." She spoke fast and with uncertainty, mostly because she was more than lost in this new situation where she managed to not just stumble upon a one night stand but to work for him and the power balance is way off and she can’t help but feel very threatened by that.

Did she love how powerful and ambitious Ethan is? Absolutely. Did she enjoy him bossing her around? Not a chance. And she is right, the power balance in their relationship is way off, but not in the way she thinks.

She was completely unaware how whipped Ethan is for her and the way she leans a little closer to him when they talk but she doesn't do the same with anyone else. And he's absolutely crazy about the way she ties her hair in a braid so quickly while she's in the hospital, or how she seems to have fire in her soul, making her a force of nature. And yeah, she is making it hard for him not to move in and kiss her every chance he gets, but he needs to do this right. Her views on soulmates don't seem to match his and he wanted her to love him for who he is and what they've experienced together, not just a bond made by a single look as a gift from destiny. And while she changed behind the curtain, Ethan wanted her to know that too.

"I won't look. I wasn't going to. Just teasing you, darling. But the bra is mine to keep."

Necrophobia – fear of death and associated things

Before she gets a chance to retaliate, the doctor entered the room, introducing himself as Y/N laid on the table, her eyes glancing to Ethan who focused on the doctor instead of her breast as the man began a palpable examination first.

"I don't feel the lump, but I'd like to do an ultrasound too, just to be sure." Raising both eyebrows, Y/N wondered if the man had been wrongly accused by Ethan, making brief eye contact with Ethan who forgot himself and his promise for a moment in his own surprise.

"Oh." But then the doctor stopped, looking closer at the screen with his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed and Y/N lifts her head.

"Oh? What do you mean by oh?" She demanded, Ethan leaning toward the screen to see better himself but even he wasn't the best in reading breast ultrasounds, that was more Grayson's specialty.

"I'm sorry to say, but I believe your worries were right."

Ringing in her ears, Y/N felt like someone hit her over the head with a rock, her mind stopping as her eyes moved to the screen the man turned for them to see.

"This", the doctor pointed at the screen and Ethan leaned in closer, his heart beating out his chest as his hand blindly searched for Y/N's to hold, wanting to give her comfort as well as seek some reassurance for himself.

"This is a solid mass and while we will need to do more tests when you're ready, my experience taught me this is often a malignancy. It's where most cancers show statistically, but you're young and I feel we caught it in time. We can set up an appointment for confirmation and more imaging, but I'm confident we will win this."

And the doctor spoke, explaining things Y/N could barely hear, feeling like she's under the water, dragged back into hell she barely escaped.

Not even realizing it, she found herself back in Ethan's Smooth Cat, her hand held tightly - no longer gingerly touched, but strongly feeling Ethan's presence. She was so thankful for that. So, so thankful.

With a growing lump inside her throat, Y/N couldn't speak, panic spreading through her as she felt Ethan's other hand touch her cheek, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head toward him.

"I called Grayson and he will meet us in an examination room at the breast unit as soon as we arrive. Remember we can't take anything he says as factual before we check. Okay? You're okay, darling. It's going to be okay." And while he tried to put up a brave front, she felt the tremors in his hands and she heard him swallow tears.

Nodding, she let out a heavy sigh of relief, his words reminding her why they were at the clinic and although she saw the lump on her ultrasound clearly, she prayed she wasn't that unlucky to get cancer. Again.

Rushing to the breast unit, Grayson is already at the door, waving the two inside. Upon entering, Ethan is basically helping Y/N rip her shirt and bra off, her breasts no longer off limits as both of them are out of their minds with worry.

"Wow, Ethan, stay the fuck outside!" Grayson shouted, throwing a sheet over an exposed Y/N, horrified by his brother and his disregard for her comfort and needs.

"We're way past that!" Ethan and Y/N scream in unison as she tosses the sheet off. Breathing uneven, her cheat rising with every shallow breath she takes, Y/N turned to Ethan who was ready to scream but stayed a few feet away. But then she outstretched her arm, her hand open with the palm turned up, her fingers wiggling to invite him closer.

Slightly reluctant, Ethan took her hand in his, fingers intertwining as he rests his elbows on the gurney, his eyes looking into hers only to find fear and unshed tears that disarmed him faster than he believed possible. It's not a secret she's been ruling his heart and mind since they met...since before that, but he never realized how willing he'd be to fall victim to her, to be her captive, to stand in the eye of the storm and admire it even when it threatens to destroy him.

Two hearts beating as one, their eyes speaking volumes about what they can't say just yet, it felt like the world faded and no one but them remained.

But the magic had been broken once Y/N felt the coldness of the gel on her breast, her hand tightened around his and her eyes closed shut. She couldn't handle seeing it again: her dreams all die and her journey to return to start - alone again, rotting in a clinic with nothing to hope for. She found medicine the first time, her graduation and desire to travel the world the second time, but third time? What will she have to look forward to? Eminent death and impending doom of finding a soulmate she never even knew about? Or Ethan?

But he has his soulmate, she reminds herself. He probably has someone waiting for him to come home, a beautiful woman, maybe a couple of kids? Who knows? He wouldn't be her saving grace this time around.

"Good news. The guy's a fraud. This ultrasound is clear. There's nothing malignant here." Grayson's smile is quick to spread, to lighten the somber atmosphere and while he probably should have stopped there, it wouldn't really be Grayson if he did, especially when Ethan and Y/N remained silent, processing the news a bit too long for Grayson's liking.

"Yeah, in fact, this is beautiful breast. It's truly phenomenal, like exquisite -", and that's when Ethan and Y/N finally tuned in, the looks on their faces saying just how far he went. Ethan covered her breasts so fast, pulling his body halfway over hers to protect her from view, his glare burning holes into his brother who raised his arms in mock surrender, defending his honor and quite frankly his life.

"I was just going to say it's like a perfect anatomy, nothing sexual."

"Bro, just go. Leave while you're still ahead." Ethan practically growled through gritted teeth and Grayson didn't plan on sticking around for those teeth to grab a hold of his throat. Because Ethan reminded him of a lion, king of the jungle and he looked ready to kill to protect his lioness.

Selenophile – a person who loves the moon

Scratching the back of his head, Ethan stepped away, releasing her hand reluctantly with a sigh. He wanted to keep this moment going, to have her so close and while he hated himself for it, he liked being needed that day. Every look she gave him, every touch no matter how small, it made him feel wanted like never before and for the first time in forever he just wanted to stay in the moment with her.

"Are you okay?" Ethan's voice is rough, his throat scratchy and his heart slowly calming down. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze, allowing her to sit up and get dressed without having her yell at him for peeping.

"I...I guess. What are we going to do about this guy?" She changed the topic deliberately, scared she might say too much because this fright had brought her back to all those times she was stuck in the hospital, alone and terrified of what might become of her. It reminded her of the friends she saw die and of the days she thought she would too.

"Grayson? He didn't mean anything by that, he just word vomits whenever he's nervous and it got fairly awkward really fast." Ethan chuckled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth, dragging them across the soft flesh before releasing it a shade darker.

"No. Not Grayson. I mean that quack of a doctor who told me I have cancer!" She raised her voice inadvertently, hoping Ethan wouldn't notice the raw emotion behind it nor the loss of common sense that washed over her.

"I have a solid amount of paperwork proving his scams. I just wanted to know for sure today. Grayson is already dealing with it. As you can tell, my brother is a boobie lover and he won't let this man get away for all the boob owners that were tricked into this." Ethan watched her back move with her shallow breaths, her inability to turn around and look him in the eye raising his anxiety levels with each passing second.

"You don't fuck with people like that. You just don't." She mutters quietly, her voice just above a whisper and Ethan can feel his heart break and he doesn't even know why.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Y/N stood up, meek and shaken and so clearly in need of distance because if she stays even just for a minute, Ethan will know one of the worst things she had to endure and she couldn't do that. She couldn't let him in. Not when he can't stay. So she did what she does best. She bolted out the room, ignoring Ethan's pleas for her to stop and talk to him.

She went to where she was the first time she met Ethan. She went to where her life was supposed to start and it did...In a way, that day was the best day of her life - she was free of the curse her body was under and she met Ethan.

So yes, she ended up in the Oncology ward, gowning up before entering the room where comatose patients struggled to survive. As weird as it is, it had always been her favorite and least favorite place to hide from the world, a place she could find peace and serenity but also reconcile her life might end in one of those rooms as well, so she always sat there and just reminded herself to breathe as long as she could, as fiercely as she could.

She sat by one of the patients, looking sadly down at their broken, beaten bodies and how it betrayed them in the worst possible way. As usual, most patients are older or have their grey hair as proof they found their soulmate, but then again, she saw two kids there too.

She was once a kid on these ventilators too. Her friends were on them too. Not all of them made it out.

Comas aren't romantic at all like in the movies, she knew it better than anyone. The person in that bed isn't flawlessly combed nor do they have make up to cover their flaws. They aren't comfortable nor is their spirit waiting by the bed as their loved ones come and go, confessing how much they love the unlucky bastard for years to come. No...coma is what takes the basic human pride and decency. It strips you of all that makes you human. Some survive and recover, going home with amnesia for the time they spent in their state, some don't survive it at all...but there is a third option for those who survive, but they aren't exactly alive. For them, coma means tubes being stuck into their nose for feeding, into their mouth for breathing, into their urethra for peeing and a diaper for shitting. It means eyes covered with gauze to help keep their eyes moist, their throat cut open to move the breathing tube if that state continues; wires, needles, medical students practicing on them because they aren't supposed to feel the pain. It means pressure ulcers that turn into huge gaping wounds because the nurses are understaffed, overworked and underpaid and can't possibly move every patient in time to prevent complications. And the worst part is that the longer they are comatose, less people come to see them. They're alone, abandoned in a room without any chance of recovery, robbed of their right of moving on, truly being liberated. They would welcome death doctors are forced to keep away.

And she had witnessed it happen far too often. She had seen many comatose patients in her time during her stays in the hospital because of her cancer. Some of them she'd visit at night because she felt bad for them, others were her cancer buddies who were losing the battle. Either way, there wasn't anything to romanticize. Coma isn't a pretty state, it's her worst nightmare.

"You're not okay."

Startled, Y/N looks back at the door, aware who it is before she sees the person the voice belongs to. And there he is, the man she wants to know more than anything but can't allow herself to care. If they were meant to be, if he is her soulmate, he'd tell her by now. Right?

"You're always running after me." She smiles weakly, the sadness in her eyes tearing into Ethan who, even now, saw her as the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth. In his hundred plus years, Ethan never saw a human as flawlessly beautiful as her.

"Someone's got to." With a slight shrug, Ethan sat on a chair beside her, his eyes fixed on her with a softness behind his hazel hues she rarely saw in anyone. He cares. She could see that now and no amount of fear that evoked would make her walk away. She wanted to stay. She wanted him to look at her as softly as he does now for the rest of her life.

Y/N no longer cared about whoever her soulmate is because she couldn't imagine caring about someone as much as she does for Grant, not ever.

"When I was nine I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer with metastasis in surrounding lymph nodes. After surgery and chemotherapy they said I'd be fine. They said it would be like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't fine." Swallowing a growing lump in her throat, Y/N glanced at Ethan who looked distressed by her story, like his heart had fallen through the cracks and shattered on the ground. But it was too late and she could tell he was staring at her throat for signs of surgical scarring and she felt self-conscious just like she did when they first cut her open.

"I learned to hide the scar with either scarfs or make up. And I thought I could move on and be happy but I was fifteen when I was rushed into the emergency room because I collapsed in school. Turns out the metastasis were in my lungs and while they were unsure if it was truly related to the first cancer diagnosis or if it was a new sort, one thing was sure...I needed more chemotherapy...more pain, more hospitals, more lonely days and nights and I had no one. My parents were always too involved with each other and their jobs than me. I was alone. And scared. Studying medicine saved me." She sighed, looking over the patients.

"The chemotherapy ruined my bone marrow, a little something I found out in my last year of med school after which I had to wait almost a year while I got a transplant and my immune system normalized. It was the only good thing my dad ever did for me." She shrugged, daring to look back at Ethan who looked so frustrated with what she went through, horrified by the thought of her being alone all those years when the worst has happened to her. And he hated he wasn't there for her.

"The night we met? At the bar? I was here for a final checkup because my doctor moved. I got the all clear and I was depressed I had no one to celebrate the official news of my remission and my life getting back on track." She admitted sheepishly.

"But as great as it was, we can't go back to that. You are my boss and I'm your intern and while it's going to be hard, we have to let it go. So, can I please just get back to work?"

Shaking his head, Ethan chuckled in disbelief.

"You're with Grayson next week and every free moment you have you will deal with my paperwork. That's all I can give you. But you can't seriously expect me to forget that night. Or any of it since." His demeanor changed and the softest he had about him had disappeared.

"I appreciate you telling me all this and I wish I could have been there for you, I do! But I am here now and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. I care for you. But you drive me so mad sometimes." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan tried to calm down and actually be supportive because it was hard for her to open up to him like she did and he wanted to be understanding but every move forward ends up being two steps back with her and Ethan was stressed and tired and he needed her to realize she was stuck with him.

“You’re like a book! A big, strange book I barely understand.” He was slowly losing patience, she could tell. And a part of her hoped he’d let her go and give up. A part of her prayed for it to happen. But another part, one hidden deep inside, that part wanted Ethan more than the oxygen she needed to breathe. He was her oxygen, the air her soul needed. And he wasn't letting up, despite it all.

“Learn me slowly then. Please? Just be patient with my pages.”

And in that moment, they shared a silent agreement. In her darkness, he saw her light shine through. He is a selenophile and she his moon.

In that moment, Ethan saw fit to lean closer, his eyes glancing at her supple lips before focusing on her eyes again. He wanted to make sure she wanted it to happen as much as he did, even if it was completely inappropriate from the place it was happening down to their work relationship. It was all kinds of wrong, yet it felt right. It felt so, so right.

She didn't move away, she didn't make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover's touch for when Ethan's lips brushed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

Just before letting go and surrendering himself to this gentle surprise, Ethan looked at his soulmate with a new hope in mind and a promise he would never let her demons drown her.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Tags: @beinscorpio​ @peacedolantwins​ @heyits-claire​ @dolandolll​ @godlydolans​ @dolanstwintuesday​ @ethanhes​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​ @fxkthatdairy​ @zeusgrayson​ @libradolan​ @justordinaryjen​ @pineappledolan​ @graysavant​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​  @shadowsndaisies​ @maybgrayson​

[alwaysanotherrainbow]

my boyfriend never texts first

Remus just wants to not be the first one to send a message every once in a while. That’s not too much to ask, right?

relationship: romantic remrom, background remy and emile (also romantic)

warnings: major character death, extended mourning (secondary warnings- brief discussion of religious holidays, brief underage drinking mention, a lot of all-caps) notes: unrelated, human, hs/college au. virgil, emile, and remy are here too. If you need anything in the secondary warnings (or one of those latter three characters) edited out, please let me know and I can put that up for you!

____________________________________________________

Remus always texted him first. Always. It didn’t matter the situation, didn’t matter the time date place name face. Who what when where why. It first started when he texted hi roman :) when they first got phones; for whatever reason, Roman just never texted first. Either he’d call or they’d talk in person.

No matter. Remus could cope.

May 1:

8:37 PM tody i saw you by my locker 8:39 PM *today 8:42 PM why didnt you say hi?

May 2:

9:30 PM a teacher talked to me today 9:30 PM wanted to talk about how i’m doing after 9:52 PM well you know. he’s a sick bastard

Really, it wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He just wanted to see him text first once in a while! May 7:

3:32 PM: by the way idk if you got this last time 3:36 PM: my class ring size is the medium 3:44 PM: hopefully you order it by the deadline :P 4:03 PM: no idea when the deadline is 4:20 PM: bLAZE IT 4:24 PM: sorry i have like 0 money so i got it from the consignment shop 4:31 PM: i hope you like synthetic rubies!! leaving them with ur dad 10:40 PM: update. i cried for four hours with your dad.

June 2:

7:30 AM: gRaDuAtIoN dAy!!! 7:32 AM: there’s cookies in the reception menu 7:35 AM: snickerdoodles your favorite [eyes] 10:02 AM: i’m getting some for u 10:05 AM: [kissy face] 7:40 PM: the announcement was Weird 7:43 PM: anyways i have the snickerdoodles (Remus couldn’t go over to where Roman was staying, so he left them in the living room. He knew Roman would appreciate them. Hopefully he’d come over (wait, probably not, given...))

Well, actually, he could understand why he never texted first. June 11:

12:14 PM: roMAN 12:16 PM: [Attachment: Remus_Picani-Kleitman_Acceptance_Letter.pdf] 12:18 PM: YEAHHHH 12:24 PM: I’m sure you got in too SEND ME YOURS WHEN YOU GET IT 12:32 PM: WE MIGHT SHARE A ROOM YEA 12:35 PM: [Attachment: celebration.jpg]

Everyone was probably saying that he ought to just move on, but to be honest, he couldn’t... Actually, to be honest, no-one had told him to move on to his face yet. In fact, everyone was surprised he was doing so well, given how bad the circumstances were! The situation was stressing him out so much, even his dads were gently advising him to rethink things. (Well, that was part of the territory with one of them being a therapist and the other being a barista.)

“I got y’all some kouign-amann from the cafe,” said Dad, putting it down on the counter. His shirt had SLEEP scrawled on it with a Sharpie; it was the one that Remus had made for him as a joke. He still wore it. Huh.

“Sweetie, what’s a queen amahn?” asked Papa.

“It’s a... er, it’s like a... this is kinda like a croissant that had dreams of a muffin tin and salted caramel. One for you, babe.... then one for Doodlebug-”

“Can I leave some for Roman?” asked Remus.

They exchanged a glance.

“Of course you can,” said Papa with a smile. “Your candle’s on the table. Also, I got the news about being accepted into university? Good job, kiddo. You know, that was your father’s alma mater.”

“Are you sure you want to go to school right away after...? No problem taking a gap year.”

Papa glared at Dad. “Be nice.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s just...” Dad put down his coffee. “If you’re not ready, if you need more time-”

"I’m sure,” said Remus with a grin, trying to get rid of what he just remembered. “Trust me.”

“Please find a good way to put away the snickerdoodles, they’ve been there since last week!” shouted Papa.

June 12:

12:12 AM: its twelve twelve make a wish 12:15 AM: hey when does your phone bill go out? 12:20 AM: im just saying that would Explain some things 12:22 AM: i know your dad pays Everything like a year in advance 12:34 AM: tell him i say hi 12:34 AM: 12:34 MAKE A WISH

July 12:

3:30 PM: guess who’s a double major in bio and theatre!! 3:32 PM: marine biology babey 3:53 PM: it’s good for the SOUL 4:04 PM: this cute octopus reminded me of you by the way 4:10 PM: [Attachment: for_roman]

August 14:

6:24 PM: moving in is the Worst 6:32 PM: by the way i got a single 6:35 PM: no roommates 6:41 PM: still have the bunk tho 6:44 PM: also got ur favorite pillo

August 30:

2:12 AM: roman it is like two o’clock in the morning what the Heck are you doing here, 2:15 AM: if u see me wave Hi 2:32 AM: ok >:c 2:42 AM: dont mind Me just studyin on top of the planetarium 3:15 AM: tbh i didn’t even know we go to the same campus? haven’t seen you around or anything 3:17 AM: shit phones gonna di

September 28:

2:20 PM: i failed my test 2:22 PM: idk what to d 2:24 PM: *do

September 29: 7:30 PM: remember that octopus you gave me that eats negative emotions? 7:32 PM: it works!!

October 3:

1:10 PM:  You’d like the theatre program, really 1:15 PM: just so u know they’ve listed your name as an ‘honorary member of the class of’ 1:19 PM: that’s really nice of them. idk if your dad knows

October 23:

9:45 AM: i had to explain one of our inside jokes 8( 9:52 AM: i can’t Explain the deodorant thing that was One Time 9:55 AM: also why i’m called The Duke 9:56 AM: its bc you said it. not my fault 9:58 AM: its still cute pls call me that still 9:59 AM: pancake brunch pancake brunch pancake brunch October 31: 6:12 PM: sun’s down! joyous samhain 6:15 PM: i remember when you sewed me that octopus btw, the one that eats ucky feelings 6:19 PM: how long did it take you to get the laurel sachet into it?? 6:34 PM: also thank you thank you thank you for helping me find a friendly church to celebrate all saints day 6:47 PM: that year was a NIGHTMARE because you forgot to get your white candles and carnelian, and i forgot my holy water, so we were driving around town like Madmen 6:59 PM: it was worth it though 7:03 PM: i left you a script, i think you’ll like it.

November 9:

11:19 PM: i miss you so so much.

November 10:

12:20 AM: ignor this i drank like 12:24 AM: a lot 1:15 AM: i’m sorry i should’ve been with you 1:22 AM: i shouldve been there With You. 1:45 AM: but i wasn’t 2:20 AM: i didn’t know thered be a 4:11 PM: shit i just saw these. Sorry to bother you December 2:

10:10 AM: hey roman, been a bit. yea sorry about last time. too much of the Alcohol 10:13 AM: gonna go over to my parents’ house 1:00 PM: if you wanna come over, you can. dad’s making snickerdoodles and papa’s gonna watch atla (yes i still have that dvd you got me do not @ me it’s with your candles on your table just like everything else) 1:03 PM: that was on the dot, i’m happy.

December 21

8:34 AM: hey, it’s snowing 9:13 AM: couldn’t help leaving you some hot cocoa. and snickerdoodles of course 10:12 AM: i love you Remus went to go help his dads with making breakfast, but by the time everyone was done cleaning and they had finished watching some shitty Hallmark movie, he remembered that he had left his phone upstairs. Going upstairs and looking at it, he felt something in him break.

[2 Unread: Roman <3, bf’s dad]

10:22 AM, Roman <3: Why are you texting this number? 11:15 AM, bf’s dad: Remus, disregard that last, I’m so sorry. I just found his phone and I saw only the recent message first

The phone started ringing. Remus answered it as quickly as he could.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders I didn’t know that someone was actually getting these messages I thought the line was out,” he said within a few seconds before the person on the other side sighed.

“No, it’s quite all right. And Virgil’s all right, by the way, if you prefer. I... I was just looking through his things for the first time. You know, it being a holiday and all... Memories, things like that.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“I just turned the phone back on, I’m getting a lot of messages.”

“Oh.” Remus stared at the wall, trying to come to terms with everything. “Well, I--”

“I’m not going to stop paying for his phone. I’m sorry, I just... I still have his voicemails on it, and I can’t stand the thought of it going offline either.”

“Right, I... I listen to it too.”

“I happened upon the last one he sent to you.”

“You looked at the messages?”

“I only looked over when I stopped getting new ones, but I saw the last question he sent you. For your ring size.”

“Yeah? He asked my ring size so that he could--”

“There’s no easy way to say this, but.. I found something of his. Can you come over?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, but can you please tell me what it was? Please?”

“I really think I should tell you this in person.”

“Please, Mr. Sanders. Please, I... I can’t manage that.”

He sighed. “All right, Remus. I found an early acceptance letter to SJAU, and... and a ringbox.”

Remus felt his grasp on the phone grow weak. It fell onto the bed, Mr. Sanders’ voice still clear.

“I think he was going to ask for you to....”

“No, we... We were just out of high school, I-- that doesn’t make sense.”

“He always was one for those romantic gestures. There’s some poems here, too. A life-plan. I’m not sure exactly what malacology is, but--”

“Mollusks. Like octopi and squids.. Sorry for cutting you off, what was that?”

“Some of it’s in your handwriting, but one of the entries is ‘ask him’, for the day after... you know.”

God, he could hear his sad smile through the phone. He knew exactly how Mr. Sanders looked right now just talking to him, probably wearing that hoodie that was too big on him, in a dusty room full of things that used to belong to the most vibrant person that Remus had ever met.

But then Roman had died.

He was the most wonderful person, and he had just died.

“I’ll come over to deliver the ring to you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s... that’s fine. Uh, call my dads first, though. They’re still not convinced I’m doing okay.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to you later, Remus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders.”

The line went dead in his hands.

Remus held himself and wept.

December 28:

12:30 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: Mr. Sanders, would you like to come over for our New Year’s party? 12:34 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: It’s a tradition we had. You don’t have to if you’d rather not. 12:45 PM, Virgil Sanders: I’d love to go.

January 1:

12:00 AM: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! 12:05 AM: [Attachment: :)] 12:07 AM: we are all smiling in this photo and for that i think we deserve a hug. 12:10 AM: this rings the most beuatifl thing i’ve ever fuckign seen. thank you,, 12:14 AM: never gonna get rid of it <3 12:16 AM: it looks Good on my finger 12:30 AM: jsyk your dad’s asking my dads for the kouign amann recipe 12:32 AM: thats a pastry, i left those for u a while back 12:39 AM: okay i’m crying a bit but honestly, i love u 12:44 AM: I love you so so so much, Roman

Somewhere out there, whether it was from some wonderful paradise or beyond the veil or even only in wishful thoughts, Remus knew that someone was saying I love you too.

[theineffableechoes]

PSA - PLEASE DON’T DO THIS

(Warning - contains details of drug misuse and personal trauma)

Before I begin I just want to clarify that there is no personal agenda here, I am neither condoning nor condemning drugs, so relax hippies and put down those pitch forks over protective parents. I'm simply sharing my genuine life experience, which includes one of the biggest mistakes I ever made relating to drugs which ended up dictating events in the years that followed on a weird micro level that I have only realised in retrospect.

First I should probably give you some background for context. Growing up I was real bona fide goodie two shoes: Prefect who snitched on kids smoking in the playground, 100% attendance awards, got along with all my teachers.. you get the idea. The only real bad aspect to me was that I, in moderation, underage drank with friends from time to time.. but come on, this is England.. that's kinda what we do.. So I was passionately anti-drugs and cigarettes, that's kinda the point I'm making. That all changed with the biggest cliché.. that's right, university.

Towards the end of my first year I started smoking marijuana which was harmless enough and I tried to limit it to social situations in the beginning but everything would change in just a few months into my second year. I had this friend that I would hang out with and we'd smoke weed but one day he was running low, but told me he had a solution, he showed me this weird packet and told me it was an alternative to weed he bought in a shop.. I'd never heard of anything like that and it seemed weird it was packaged in such a professional way.. I had never heard of legal highs.. I trusted him anyway, figuring he must know what he's doing. I let him set up a bong, and then he got me to inhale, he kept telling me "More, Do more, keep breathing" and like an idiot.. I did just that.

He asked me what I felt and for a few seconds I felt nothing. Next thing I know this primal aggressive feeling emanated from me, I'd never felt something like that before.. it was so.. heavy. Everything got foggy and I remember grabbing my friend by his shirt or face before everything went black.

*What followed is hard for me to recount, either due to the effect of the drug or as I feel: the memories are somewhat suppressed due to the nature of what happened, I actually only recently remembered more when talking to my partner this morning.*

I wasn't in that room anymore, I wasn't in my body.. I was floating in perpetual darkness.. No sound.. No thought.. Just the taste of metal in my mouth.

At some point I saw something in the distance, a faint glimmer in the abyss. I chased it, I remember reaching out for it, I was desperate for anything other than this silence. Next thing I know I am engulfed in vibrance.. a pure purple light that twisted and bent as if a flag adrift in the wind. I was in awe, it felt like years had gone by, I didn't even know how I'd gotten to be here anymore or that there was anything other than this to life. Then that energy inexplicably began to change, fluctuate and take form. It shrank down until I realised the purple energy was forming my body and I was surrounded by black again but this time in the form of a  thick fog.

Suddenly I felt and heard this snap from inside my own brain, I felt wrong, I felt.. damaged.. The energy dissipated, the fog began to slowly lift.. I was back in the room.. but something was wrong. I couldn't think properly.. I couldn't remember how to talk.. and worst of all I forgot who I was.

I looked around not recognising my surroundings, realising I was wet from head to toe as I looked down and saw I was covered in vomit,  all four walls of the bedroom were covered in upchuck, the floor was a sea  of pure chunder that was being desperately cleaned up by a stranger.. who then proceeded to gag and throw up as he went. I wanted to speak to him, ask him what was happening but I couldn't remember how to form words.. I sat there and struggled just making noises at him.

Finally I managed to get it out "What's going on?" I asked, The stranger explained I had passed out with vomit stuck in my throat and he had desperately tried to tip me upside down and massage it out of my throat, but once dislodged a never ending technicolor yawn ensued and he was very close to calling an ambulance as he had thought I might die.

I then realised I knew this man.. "I know you.. you're -----, you're my friend!" He looked a bit confused and then a short silence followed. I broke it asking "What's my name?" This seemed to anger said person "You know your name, don't wind me up!" or something to that effect was said "No, I can't think, where are we? who am I? I don't remember" "You're Adam!" "Adam?" For whatever reason that didn't feel right, my own name didn't feel natural to hear. I began to remember more and slowly started to come back to myself.. but not completely.

To this day I don't feel like I'm truly the person I was before that night, that a piece of me didn't come back.. and I've realised in hindsight that I somewhat acted to fill that void but it was artificial and it slowly began to deteriorate my relationships and faculty of mental health. I don't know if it's a subtle form of brain damage or just the impact of the experience but I feel that my ability of expression, my physicality, and seemingly unrelated decisions that followed later in life have all been tainted by this. From my experience legal highs are worse than any class A's I've done.

I'm not me anymore, I haven't truly been me since 2014/15.. not really.. I've felt like a passenger observing my life but never truly being in the moment.. I think of this event as a small drop in the ocean, causing ripples along with several other distinct events that would form a great wave of depression that I tried to solve through constant drug abuse that I kept the extent of which hidden even among my friends who took drugs themselves and my flatmates. I wouldn't know what day of the week it was most of the time or if I had work, I couldn't tell the days apart without checking my phone and I started to realise I didn't recognize the man in the mirror anymore.. I was filled with deep self loathing and actually planning out a suicide towards the end. People tried to help but no one person could help me but me.

It may seem unrelated but in reality that's causality in effect. Don't get me wrong, I don't presume that my life would have been fantastical had I not taken that synthetic weed that night, I'm no fool.. not anymore anyway.

Bad things would have still happened but I think I would have had the capacity to control and change certain outcomes, like leaving a mutually toxic relationship at the first sign of physical/emotional abuse from them or after I made the mistake of cheating (As an example) rather than allow us both to keep pulling each other back until it became an unrecognizable trap of emotional dependency and physical abuse from her or a financial dependency and desperation from me. In other words my perception is different now, I see that whilst life wouldn't have been perfect it would have been better, and yes I do wish I could find that missing piece but it's gone and I need to accept that I can't be that person anymore and it's who I can be in the future that matters.

I won't live in that self pity anymore.. I've outgrown it, it controlled my life for too long and hurt many others along away (Never physically, I still maintained my pacifism despite everything). I like who I'm becoming now, someone who has both hands on the wheel for the first time in years, someone who goes out of their way again for others but this time is no longer door mat for anyone.

SO PLEASE don't EVER do legal highs, the risk is not worth it, you could end up dead or you could lose years of your life and personality like it did with me. You're actually more safe taking certain illegal drugs than legal highs. Yes some people are different and can handle them fine, but please think of my story.. and ask yourself what you are willing to lose for that fleeting sensation?

[primalrageanddumbassery]

It’s A Quiet Room That Calls My Name

Word Count: 2,560 

Ships: Jonmartin 

 Warnings: Self Loathing

Brief Alcohol Mention

Insomnia

Fear of Abandonment

Crying

Brief Mention of an Abusive Parent (Martin' mum)

Repeating one sentence over and over

Swearing

Summary: Jon has been so distant since they arrived at the cabin. Martin wants to believe that he's giving Martin space, but the voices in his head have all but convinced him otherwise. The Lonely is returning, if it ever left at all. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26342788

For all its faults, Martin really did like the safehouse. Sure, it was dusty, free of any decoration, and smelled like the 5 year old scotch left on the counters and in the cupboards. Sure, all blankets, pillows, and cloth-based items were moth eaten. Sure, the tiled floor of the kitchen was so bitterly cold that you could feel it through even your thickest socks (and occasionally even your shoes), making late night cups of tea borderline unpleasant, especially if you forgot to put on socks or shoes.

All of that said, the beds were cozy enough, the fireplace was gorgeous, and Jon was there. Martin couldn't bring himself to truly hate any place with Jon when it came down to it. Even the memory of the Institute had a little bit of a rose-colored tinge to it, if only because he had met Jon there.

So Martin bought rustic-looking signs with cheesy sentiments in cursive to hang around the house, a toothbrush holder to screw to the bathroom wall, and anything else he could find in the market to make the safehouse feel more like a permanent home than a random cabin he was hiding in with the man he... to be honest, he didn't know what Jon was to him, but he liked thinking of this as

their

house rather than their hideaway or, worse, their prison.

As much as he fantasized about being... whatever he fantasized about being to Jon, he couldn't help but notice how much space the other gave him. Sure, they'd eat together, play cards together (which was rather amusing as Jon only knew Trash and Go Fish), even just sit in what passed as a living room reading together, but Jon seemed so

tentative

, like he thought if he got too close Martin would disintegrate. In all fairness, Martin had been in such a fragile state at first that any attempts to come near him might have resulted in whatever outcomes it was that Jon feared, but within a week most of the immediate effects of the Lonely had worn off. He was almost certain Jon had realized that he was, for the most part, better now, but his companion seemed no more willing to make physical contact than he was the first week. For reference, they were now on week seven.

There was, of course, that tiny voice in Martin's head -too frequent to be in the back of his mind, but not loud enough for him to devote very much conscious thought to it for at least a little while- that was slowly filling Martin with a lonesome dread not unlike the kind he knew back when Jon was in the height of his paranoia.

He's just being polite, you do know that, right?

the voice would whisper.

He's only staying because he needs to. He just wants to keep himself safe. He doesn't love you the way you love him. He doesn't WANT to love you the way you love him. Who would? It's obsessive, disabling, disgusting. Not even your own mother wanted your love. Why would someone who could choose otherwise?

Soon, the voice wasn't a tiny voice anymore, but a voice demanding to be heard. It sounded remarkably like Jon's own voice. Soon, it wasn't very far away from the forefront of his mind. He could hear it all the time, with that

tone

Jon had when he was absolutely disgusted. The only tone Martin had known him to have for almost the entire first year they'd known each other.

In this instance, Martin was trying to read a book on the sofa. It was late at night, around 10:30, but he had long since given up on sleep and instead had resigned himself to trying to focus on the memoir he found on Daisy's nightstand. It wasn't working. His mind was so polluted with his worries that he found himself rereading one sentence over and over. His mind was so polluted with his worries that he found himself rereading one sentence over and over. His mind was so polluted with his worries that he found himself rereading one sentence over and over. His mind was so polluted with his worries that he found himself rereading one sentence over and over.

The soft sound of Jon clearing his throat brought him out of his thoughts. Martin looked up from the book in a bit of a daze.

"Oh, did you say something, Jon?" he asked, immediately worried he'd missed something important.

"Not yet, actually," Jon replied, "but I was going to tell you that I'm going to bed."

"Oh, okay. Sleep well, then." Martin looked back down at his book. There was a beat of silence.

"You should think about doing the same, Martin," Jon said softly. Martin looked up again, surprised.

"Oh, no, I'm alright. I have some things on my mind right now- I don't think I could sleep if I wanted to." Jon frowned with concern.

"Are you sure? You look like you haven't slept well. It might do you some good."

I do?

Martin thought. He hadn't noticed looking any different.

"I'll go to bed in a bit, alright?" he assured Jon. "You go ahead." Jon's brow furrowed and for a moment he looked like he was about to argue, but seemed to think better of it.

"Alright. Goodnight, Martin."

Jon almost shut the door to the guest bedroom behind him, but he seemed to think better of it and left it ajar.

--------------

Try as he might, Martin couldn't force himself to focus on his book. He would finish a page, but realize he couldn't recall in the least what he'd read on it. It wasn't even serving as a distraction anymore- his every thought was of Jon's distance.

Of how

lonely

he was.

He didn't put a word to it immediately, but then he felt the fog -perfectly devoid of temperature to contrast the warm cabin, just as he remembered it- curling around his arms and legs and neck and between each of his fingers. He knew then. He had no illusions about what the opaque gray fog meant.

"No, no, I'm out of there," he whispered, trying to fan it away. It didn't work, of course, becoming clearer and clearer as he felt himself start to fade out of vision.

"Stop it, stop it! I'm not lonely!" He gripped his head in frustration. The fog was unrelenting. The very worst part of it, however, was the sense, deep down, of relief. The numbness was returning and he knew how much

easier

everything became with it. A part of him, a bigger part than he would ever like to admit, wanted nothing more than to submit again. If he just let go...

Before he knew it, he was in the bedroom he was using, burrowing head-first under the covers. It was something he had done as a very small child, swimming to to bottom of the sheets like it was the ocean or a cave. Other than the rustle of covers as he went deeper, all other sounds were muted by the blankets. It had always sounded, to him, like he was utterly alone.

He was a good deal bigger now, and unless his legs were drawn up close to him, they stuck out the top of the blankets. It was surreal to be in such a familiar situation again but with a drastically different body. Even so, he knew why he had done it again.

It was pitch black under the covers, all of the sounds muted by the layers of comforter and quilt. In the quiet, he could more easily hear the pounding voice.

HE DOESN'T NEED YOU. HE NEVER HAS. THE ONLY REASON HE REMAINS HERE IS FEAR OF WHAT LIES OUTSIDE. WHY ELSE WOULD ANYONE VOLUNTARILY SPEND TIME WITH MARTIN BLACKWOOD?

This was loneliness at its finest.

A part of him was still reluctant, still conscious of the danger he was in. How he'd fought so hard to get out of the Lonely the first time, how he felt so much happier when he was able to just be with Jon like he should have been for the past year.

This was the part of him that made him cry. Even though he could feel the calm fog, the relievingly calm fog that whispered of its tranquility, of its numbness to him, he could still feel the tiniest sliver of himself that remained and protested. His sobs shook his chest violently, loudly. His first instinct was to try to quiet himself (

"Mum hates it when I'm loud, she'll be so mad at me..."

he thought in his delirium), but upon trying, he found that he couldn't. He was crying too hard for that to be even close to plausible. He hugged his knees, lying on his side underneath the blankets.

This is why,  

he thought.

This is exactly why he's keeping away from you. Look at you! You're a mess! What kind of crazy would he have to be to want to get involved with this shitshow? It's selfish of you to even consider letting him get involved. Jon does NOT need this kind of stress. Why, you're the most selfish man on the continent! The planet, even! After all Jon has been through? Why would you even THINK about asking for his help? You're such a-

"Martin? Are you okay? I heard you-"

Jon's voice stopped at the same moment that Martin froze.

"Martin, are you alright?"

Shit, shit, shit! He'll see my puffy red eyes, he'll see the fog- OH SHIT, HE'LL SEE THE FOG, HE'LL SEE THAT I'M FADING, I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SO-

He felt the mattress depress.

Jon has sat down.

"You can talk to me about anything, Martin. You

do

know that?" Martin took a shaky breath. The half of him that had been more than ready to return to the Lonely was uncomfortable.

"Y-yeah," he whispered finally. With a high degree of difficulty, whether from his own reluctance or the physical restraints, he slowly crawled out of the covers. Jon had clicked on the bedside lamp and was smiling at him.

"There you are." Martin smiled back shyly.

"Here I am." Jon looked him up and down, eyes catching on the fog. His breath hitched.

"The Lonely again?" Martin shrunk into himself, vigorously messing with the threadbare edge of the quilt. His fingertips were completely invisible. "Hey, hey, it's alright," Jon said softly. "I'm not mad if it's back. I just want to help it go away again, okay?"

This was probably the softest Martin had ever heard Jon say. He was surprised he wasn't a puddle by now.

"Ok-okay," Martin whispered. He relaxed his shoulders as best he could. The quiet that followed was almost tense with Jon apparently thinking about what to do next and Martin trying (in vain) to push away the thoughts again.

"Can you- that is, would you like to... talk about it?" Jon asked tentatively.

Don't tell him! He'll think you're ungrateful! He's giving you the space he thinks you need, you can't tell him that he's making it worse! What are you doing? How dare you even consider it? He's trying to be kind to you! Why would you throw it back in his face? Just lie, tell him you don't know how it happened, tell him it came out of nowhere and you're just fine, tell him-

"Martin? Are you still with me?" Jon's voice drew him out of his thoughts.

No, Jon's too smart for that. I have to tell him.

"Yeah, I am. I think I... I think I

would

like to talk about it." Jon nodded.

"Alright, then," Jon said. Martin took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to begin.

"I've been... worried, I think? Yeah, I've been worried recently. About how you feel about me. I mean, don't get me wrong- you're nowhere

near

the way you were in the beginning, and I'm really happy about that, but..." He trailed off, searching for the words. "Look, Jon- I know you're trying to give me space and not impose, but space is the complete opposite of what I need. I mean," he said with a half-assed laugh, "I've had nothing but space since that damned Unknowing. I- I mean, if you would be..." He took a breath to steel himself. "If you would be willing to get closer to me,  that would be good. For me. I think." Jon's mouth was slightly ajar in... surprise? Loss of words?

"Martin, I... I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that I... I should have kn-"

"No, no, Jon, don't do that, you had no reason to have known," Martin pleaded. "You didn't know and what's done is done. But now that you do know..."

"I'll do anything to make sure you don't feel that way again," Jon assured him. "Of course. I

am

sorry, though. I promise, I'll do whatever you need me to do." Martin smiled widely. Probably the first genuine, Martin K. Blackwood Ray-Of-Sunshine Smile™️ that had occured since, well, since the Unknowing.

"Is touching alright?" Jon asked softly. The half of him prepared to become Lonely again was still there and screamed 'no', screamed for Jon to leave, but Martin nodded.

"Yes. Yeah, it's okay."

Jon's hand reached out and covered Martin's.

"What do you see?" he asked gently. Martin smiled.

"You, Jon." Jon's grip tightened around Martin's fingers. His hand was substantially smaller, something that would have made Martin laugh in another situation.

"And I'm not going

anywhere

, you hear me, Martin? I'm staying right here, right by your side as long as you need me." His green-brown eyes, so calculating so much of the time, looked at Martin with nothing other than pure adoration. Martin felt himself tearing up.

"Thank you, Jon," he whispered. Jon chuckled.

"Oh, Martin, don't

cry..

." he stood up and moved to the other side of the bed so he could sit next to Martin. He slid into the covers and put a gentle hand on the cheek that faced away from him, guiding Martin's head to lay on Jon's shoulder. Martin laughed a bit, relaxing. He had to shift his body sideways so he wasn't bending down to do so. Jon's arm settled around Martin's shoulders.

The fog isn't gone, but it's getting there. Martin knows it won't just disappear. It's had too lasting an effect on him to just

disappear

. He's still a little bit lonely, but that's alright. He has Jon, and he's positive now that Jon won't leave him. He'll heal in time.

"Jon?"

"Hm?" Jon hummed in response.

"Would you... would you stay in here with me? In the bedroom?" Jon smiled.

"Of course." He pressed a kiss into Martin's hazelnut curls. "As long as you'll have me." Martin chuckled.

"You're never going to sleep in that other bedroom again in that case." Jon shrugged.

"Then so be it."

Thank you SO MUCH for reading!!!!!!!! Bro I enjoyed writing this so much! It went through several drafts over the past few days so I was just a tad bit worried but!! it's fine!!! and I'm happy!!!!! And by the way, the swimming under blankets thing? You cannot imagine how fun that is. I did that when I was a kid ALL the time and quite frankly if I had a bed larger than a twin, I would still do it. I would highly recommend that you try it as soon as possible. Pro tip- it works best in a large, king or queen sized bed, and even better if the covers are tucked in at the end of the bed. And again, if you want to know what the song is that this fic was named after, listen to Long Shadow by Della Mae because it fucking SLAPS https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7J30ksWBRE&feature=youtu.be

This fic was originally posted on my AO3 account. If you like my content, feel free to hop over there and check out the rest of my work! I have two more TMA fics out so if you liked this one, check out 'And The Hounds of Heaven Rise' and ‘But Now I’ve Come Back To Wash Out The Stains Hey! I love you! Take care of yourself, okay? Go get yourself some water to celebrate the fact that you're a cool person! Or food if you haven't eaten recently. Or your meds if you need them! Stay safe and remember that you're radder than, like, a whole jar of peanut butter! I repeat: THANK YOU FOR READING! ~Beck

[petty-revenge-stories]

Former friend bullies and steals from me and I ruin her prom.

So, I used to be friends with this girl, let's call her BC for Bratty Cathy (not actually her name). We'd known each other for years as our families went to church together. By the time we'd gotten into middle school, she'd made friends with this group of really stuck up rich kids (both our families are not well off, this will be important later) from the track team and she just turned into a complete monster. She became rude, selfish, and super vain. Also, she started completely ignoring me and, when she did speak to me, she'd make fun of me. She'd make fun of me for everything, the way I talked, the way I dressed, just very standard girl bullying. I had some confidence issues as a kid and so to hear a former friend constantly put me down really hurt my feelings. What's worse is that she'd made me believe that I couldn't do anything about it. As she'd never gone so far as to physically hurt me, nobody would believe me. All her friends would back her up and say that I was lying and looking for attention and jealous of her, etc. The worst thing is, it actually worked. I didn't think I could tell anyone about how they were treating me and this went on until junior year of high school.

That spring, after saving up like crazy for months, I'd managed to buy myself a brand new Nintendo DS (the latest thing back then). It had taken all of my birthday and Christmas savings to be able to get it and I felt really proud of myself being able to save enough to afford it. I naturally wanted to take it to school with me, but my parents suggested that I write my name on it in permanent marker just in case it got stolen and I did so. So I'm playing with it in between classes not even a week after I got it and guess who drops by? BC shows up and just HAS to comment on how "cool" my DS is and how she's suddenly "always wanted one".

I'm freaking out inside. I know what's coming but I'm such a nervous wreck that I don't know if I can stop it. I try turning it off and putting it away before BC reaches out her hand and asks "Can I see it?" I want with all my heart to say no, because I know where she's going with this, but I rationalized that it does have my name on it and so I let her snatch it from me to "look" at it. And, of course, the bell rings for class and she rushes off....taking my DS with her. I yell after her but she shouts back, "I'll give it back after school, okay?"

If your thinking I'm an idiot...you're right. I WAS an idiot.

I looked all over for BC after school but she'd completely disappeared. I tried for three days straight to corner her and ask her for my DS back, but she'd just smirk and dodge me. When I finally managed to talk to her, she just scoffs and say that she didn't know what I was talking about, that I'd probably lost it, and acting like the whole thing never happened. When I tried to tell her how hard I'd worked to save up for it and that I needed it back, she just went back to her old sayings about how nobody would believe me, that I was stupid and ugly and jealous of her, and nobody would be on my side. I went home in tears. That DS was my baby and I'd lost it in a moment of weakness to my bully and I was convinced I'd never see it again.

But then, the moment for revenge arrived.

Three days after confronting BC, my mom came to my room and the phone was for me (it was my mom's phone since I didn't have one back then). It was BC's mom on the phone. She'd called to ask if I'd let BC borrow my DS, as she'd seen her playing with it and saw her trying to scrub my name off the cover where I'd written it. BC had told her that I'd "let her borrow" and was trying to wash the name off because I'd "asked her to".

I knew my moment had arrived. Maybe because it was over the phone and not an outright confrontation, but the courage I'd been lacking for so long finally came to me. This was my chance, my one chance, not only to get my property back but to tell both her mom and my mom what was going on between BC and I. The rage, humiliation, and shed tears had all been leading up to this moment.

So I sang like a little bird.

I told her mother EVERYTHING. A dam just broke and everything just came spilling out. I told her all that BC had done to me over the years. I started crying on the phone as I recounted all the things she'd said to me, from refusing to return my DS to the countless times I'd been told nobody would believe me. When I got done, my mom looked like she was in shock and BC's mom had been completely silent for my whole confession and only said, "Thank you for letting me know" before hanging up.

The next evening there was a knock on the door. It was BC and her mom. Now, I mentioned before that BC was vain and self-absorbed right? Well, when I answered the door, BC's long, straight, perfectly cared-for hair had been reduced to a Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby pixie cut. I almost didn't recognize her, it was such a drastic haircut. With her mom glaring at her the whole time, BC handed back my DS (still in mercifully good condition other than the obvious attempts to wash of the permanent marker) and apologized to me. I could tell she'd been crying a lot.

I found out later that BC had been getting in trouble with her parents for awhile now, mostly for stealing. She'd lost her allowance privileges from overspending and taking money from her dad's wallet. It had all been an attempt to convince her awful friends that she was just a rich as they were. Apparently, stealing my DS and learning about her behavior towards me was the final straw. In an attempt to teach BC some humility, her mom had given her a choice: Be grounded from now till the end of summer and miss out on her prom or get a haircut of her mom's choosing. She'd foolishly taken the haircut and they'd gone straight to the salon. The experience had been so humiliating that she didn't even want to go to prom afterwards (and her boyfriend at the time did break up with her three days before it was meant to take place though I'm pretty sure for unrelated reasons)

It's been years now and she won't speak to or even look at me, but I'm completely fine with that. I'd stood up to my bully and helped feed her the biggest slice of humble pie I could find while I sat back and enjoyed a sweet petty revenge sundae.

(source) story by (/u/MillerLight491)

[wishingforatypewriter]

Between Us (Chapter 8)

Summary: In which the stresses of young professional life put strain on relationships. (The rest of the story can be found here)

Megumi had known for years now that her boyfriend had an uncanny talent for making things difficult for himself, but his endless ways of doing so never ceased to amaze her. 

You see, five months ago they had packed up everything they owned and moved from New York to Paris—him with the intention of opening his first restaurant, and her with an unrelenting desire to stay by his side. 

Souma could have done what most chefs would do—take his savings and his seed money and start small, grow his reputation and clientele—but he had never been one to play it safe. 

He had chosen a location right in the middle of the sixth arrondissement, within blocks of both Shinomiya Kojirou and Tsukasa Eishi’s culinary fortresses, and he hoped to compete in this high profile venue using low prices and common ingredients. 

And naturally, he was working quadruple time to make his menu stand out. 

“What are you making?” Megumi asked after she came home from her shift at the Shangri-La. An intoxicating savory smell was wafting out from the kitchen. 

“Stuffed quail,” he explained as he took his dish out of the oven. “How was work?” 

Megumi shrugged. “Some of the customers were a bit difficult,” she said. In her experience as an executive chef, the super wealthy tended to be, but that was who the hospitality industry catered to in these city centers. It was a world away from her family ryokan in more ways than one. “But it was fine.” 

Scattered around the kitchen and living room were balled up pieces of notebook paper with five, ten, fifteen riffs off the same recipe ideas. There were also three half-empty coffee mugs that he must have abandoned as soon as he was caffeinated enough to remain upright. 

“Did you eat yet?” he asked her. 

Megumi shook her head. “But I won’t try anything strange today,” she warned him. At this point, about one in ten of his recipes would turn out a failed experiment, and at his current rate of innovation, Megumi was subjected to four or five of these horrors each day.

Souma laughed at the half-terrified face she made and then plated the quail for her along with a soup-trio starter served in shot glasses.

Megumi took a seat at the kitchen table and let him serve her. The deep savory flavor sent tremors through her, made her eyes roll back. If not for her continued exposure to his cooking, she might have been flat on her back at the first bite.

“How’s it taste?” he asked, all broad grins and honey eyes. A person who didn't know him as well would have no inkling of the trial and error that had gone into it, the rejected drafts and countless hours of revision. They would never guess that he was running himself ragged. 

“It tastes wonderful,” she said, meaning it completely. “Now add it to your menu and get some rest, please.”

He sighed, running a hand through his red hair. “Come on, Megs,” he said. “I was kind of looking for feedback.”

“I'm not a haute cuisine critic,” she said, not for the first time that week. “I won't go inventing flaws in a dish that's already great, just for you to spend the next twelve hours obsessing over it.”

“It's not obsessing. I'm just trying to get this right.” Even as he spoke, he was scrawling something onto a notepad. A revision, maybe, or an idea for a new dish entirely. “Nakiri said if I fuck up the opening, the restaurant will go under in three months.”

It took everything within Megumi to keep from stating that in this particular instance she didn't give a flying fuck what Nakiri-san thought. Still, she felt certain that the possessor of the god tongue could convince him of anything. “I know the restaurant is very important to you, and Nakiri-san is a reliable source when it comes to these things, but the average customer would love this dish, and that's who you’re cooking for, right?”

“Of course, but I-” He never did finish his thought, as just then his work phone started ringing. And when did he become the sort of person who needed a work phone? It seemed like one of many invisible lines he had been crossing by the day. “I gotta take this.”

“I know,” she said, leaving him to go out on the fire escape with his phone and the half empty box of Marlboros she was ignoring right now, but wouldn't for much longer. 

He would keep working long into the night, though Megumi could not be relied on to say whether or when he actually made it to bed. By now she had realized the futility of something like waiting up for him.

Though her work and studies brought her to Europe frequently,  Arato Hisako did not often venture to Copenhagen. So the significance of her sudden visit was not lost on Alice, and it greatly saddened the Nakiri heiress that she would have to turn such an old and dear friend away from her home unsatisfied.

“You know I can't help you, Hishoko.” She crossed one leg over the other and took a dainty sip of Darjeeling tea from a painted cup.

Hisako narrowed her eyes fractionally, her grip on her own teacup tightening ever so slightly. She was desperate, Alice could tell, but still clinging to her well-practiced composure, her steely nonchalance. “It's been almost a year. You and Kurokiba must know where he is.”

“Ryo-kun might, but good luck getting him to talk when he wouldn't even say anything to me, his soulmate. Like can you even believe the disloyalty engendered by this so called bro code?”

The brief rant was met with a half-annoyed look from Hisako, who clearly wasn't interested in her long-term relationship woes.

Alice shook her head. “And even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you.”

“Why in the world not?”

“He’ll be back when he makes his fortune, and if he didn't tell you anything, there has to be a reason for it.”

Hisako rolled her eyes. “The reason must be that he wants me to never speak to him again.” She placed her teacup down and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can understand wanting to start over after those Sendawara snakes stole his research, which is exactly why I told him not to take that job in the first place.”

“You did warn him multiple times,” Alice conceded.

“But to just disappear is so idiotic. He could be dead in a ditch somewhere and no one would know.” 

“We got from dumb to dead in a ditch really quickly, Hishoko. If you're that worried, why don't you just ask Professor Shiomi?”

“I came here because Jun called me and I couldn't tell her anything.”

“Oh.”

“He's just so prideful and selfish and-”

“And are you sure you don't just miss him?” 

“As if I would! I'm only asking out of consideration for Jun. And I have a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Does ‘boyfriend’ know you came overseas to inquire after your ex?”

The pregnant silence between them spoke for itself. 

Alice just sighed and poured more tea into their cups. “You two are hopeless,” she said. “At any rate, since you're here, we might as well have lunch.”

---

“Thanks for coming all the way out here,” Ikumi said as she started closing up her beach side shack. 

“It's a nice place,” Erina replied between sips of rum punch. After weeks of writing restaurant reviews in her apartment, reclining on the beach in Los Angeles was exactly her idea of paradise. “I’m glad you invited me to your kitchen.” 

“It's really more of a project than anything else,” Ikumi said. “My father is making me get a business degree out here, and if I didn't start cooking again, I was going to lose my shit.”

“I hear that.” Erina adjusted her sunglasses, trying to remain present in the conversation despite the perfect beachside dish coming together in her mind’s eye. She would have to get back to Madrid sooner rather than later. “Are you going to relocate to Italy when you graduate?”

“Hard no.” Ikumi grabbed her car keys and led Erina towards her bright red convertible. “I'm breaking up with Takumi the next time we see each other.”

Erina’s eyes widened a bit. The last time she checked, Takumi and Ikumi had been as solid as Alice and Kurokiba or...or Yukihira and Tadokoro. “I don't mean to pry, but what happened?”

“Nothing happened, really. It's just the distance. Every time he’s supposed to come out here, something comes up. If it's not his father, it's his uncle, or his grandmother, or the fucking trattoria. I’m just tired.” She made a sharp turn onto the highway, just to get stuck in gridlock. She muttered a curse under her breath. “This is the worst thing about L.A. If you ever want to set up shop in California, just go to the Bay Area.”

“Noted,” Erina replied as she took in the traffic jam. They’d probably be stuck in it for at least twenty minutes. “So what happened when you went out to Tuscany?”

“Oh my god. His parents were so rude to me the entire time, especially his mother, and he didn't do anything about it. The only person who bothered to stick up for me was Isami. And then later he tried to explain that they were ‘just a bit conservative.’”

At this, Erina couldn’t help but snort a little. “What does Takumi Aldini know about conservative? Did he grow up wearing Victorian ball gowns around the house?”

“That's exactly what I said! And you know what, if he’s going to let his mother slut shame me for not wearing a turtleneck in the middle of July, we don't need to be in a relationship. At all.”

Not for the first time, Erina felt glad that all her relationships thus far had been short, sweet, and shallow. All this aggravation would only distract her from truly pursuing her cooking. 

“When you make the split official, there are some guys I can introduce to you.”

“Are they on the national football team?” Ikumi asked, smirking. 

“Naturally.” It had taken Erina a while to warm up to the athletic types, but they had grown on her.

“Yes!” Ikumi turned the air conditioning up in her car, seeming to finally accept their lot. “You and Arato-san have been doing it right this whole time.”

Were they, though? Truth be told, only time would tell. But she carried the image of the dish with her as the car inched into the horizon, and forgot to call her new boyfriend when they got back to Ikumi’s place.

[eldritchsurveys]

455.

Do you love anyone who's name starts with A? >> No.

When is the last time someone of the opposite sex gave you a hug? >> ---

Who is the last person that made you smile? >> I don’t remember. I just woke up like 2 hours ago, I haven’t even seen anyone.

Do you lose interest in someone easily? >> Yeah.

Who was the last person you flirted with? >> ---

Are you dating the last person you kissed? >> I don’t “date”.

Has anyone ever asked you if you were bi polar? >> No, but I was misdiagnosed as such as a teenager.

When is the last time you cried? >> A couple of nights ago, because the neighbours woke me up at 3am with whatever the fuck they were doing outside and I was so tired and frustrated.

How many people have you given your heart to? >> LOL

Who is the last person that disappointed you? >> Meh.

What's one thing in your life that you wish you could change? >> ---

Do you fall in love easily? >> No.

Do you still talk to the person you fell the hardest for? >> ---

Have you ever liked someone you didn't expect to? >> No.

Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers? >> No. If I was afraid of that, I would post privately. Tumblr does have that option.

Are you trying to avoid liking/loving somebody at the moment? >> No. I don’t even understand that.

Is there someone that you miss right now? >> No.

Have you ever given your ALL to someone who walked away? >> No.

Do you and your last ex hate each other? >> I don’t hate him.

Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not? >> No.

Do you think that people are trustworthy? >> I think some are and some aren’t. I also think some are in some areas but are not in other areas. Regardless, I prefer to play my cards close to my chest no matter what.

How many best friends have you had through out you life? >> ---

Who's the last person that slept over your house? >> ---

Have you ever regretted kissing someone? >> Yeah.

Do you think you have made a difference in anyone's life? >> I assume so, because that’s kind of just how shit works.

Has anyone ever made a difference in yours? >> Yeah.

Is someone on your mind right now? >> No.

Are you too forgiving? >> No.

Do you want someone you can't have? >> No.

Is your last ex still someone you care about? >> No.

How do you feel about your life right now? >> It’s pretty all right. I have no major complaints.

Has someone put their arm around you in the past five days? >> Inworld, yeah.

What'​​​s one thing ​you do when you're mad? >> Something completely unrelated to why I’m mad, so I can get over it.

Do you tend to fall for players? >> No.

Do you know anyone who has been arrested? >> Yeah.

Did the last person you kiss have tattoos? >> Yeah.

Are you currently sad about anything? >> No.

Do you pray to God often? >> I don’t pray to God.

How would you feel if your last ex fell in love with someone else? >> I wouldn’t feel anything. I probably wouldn’t even know about it.

Who was the last person who left your life and hurt you? >> Meh.

Do you know anyone who died of breast cancer? >> No.

How long does it take you to get over someone? >> It depends on what kind of connection I had with them. But even then, not terribly long. Not anymore.

Are your parents strict? >> ---

What are you afraid of? >> Meh.

Do people often disappoint you? >> No. Expectations would be required for that to happen.

Did you wake up in a good mood this morning? >> I woke up in a kinda bleh mood because of this damn weather, but it wasn’t a terrible mood or anything.

Are you a good liar? >> I could be.

Do you have any mental disorders? >> I don’t know.

Which one of your friends is the funniest? >> ---

Would you ever forgive your boyfriend/girlfriend for cheating on you? >> It’s not possible to cheat on me.

Are you depressed right now? >> No.

What's the worst thing about your personality? >> I don’t know. I don’t think of my personality like that.

Is there at least one ex boyfriend/girlfriend you can trust? >> No.

Are you picky about who you date? >> I don’t date.

Did you like anyone last summer? >> ---

Have you ever liked someone that all your friends hated? >> No.

Is there anyone that your texting right now? >> No.

Who was the last person that made you upset/angry? >> I don’t remember.

Do you honestly like the person you are? >> Sure.

Have you done many bad things in life? >> Eh, not too many.

Have you ever been arrested? >> No.

Who's your best friend right now? >> ---

Have your parents ever said they were disappointed in you? >> Probably.

Is there a key to your heart? >> No.

Has anyone ever stabbed you in the back? >> No.

Have you ever been called a slut? >> Maybe.

What's the most important thing in a relationship? >> I don’t know. Trust, I guess, of some sort.

Would you date someone 8 years older than you? >> ---

Have you ever broken someone's heart? >> Probably.

Have you ever kissed someone that was the same sex as you? >> Yeah.

What's worrying you right now? >> Nothing.

Do you believe in God? >> I don’t believe or disbelieve. That particular god is just irrelevant to my life.

Does it bother you if someone doesn't like you? >> No.

Would you ever take someone back after they've cheated? >> ---

Do you miss any of your old friends? >> Sometimes, but not in a way that makes me want them back in my life.

Have you ever been used before? >> Probably.

Where is the person you gave your heart to for the first time? >> ---

Do you believe that there's good in everybody? >> I don’t really think of people that way, as “good” or “bad” or whatever.

Are you the same person as you were at the beginning of the year? >> No.

Is there someone you will never forget? >> Maybe, but forgetfulness is not something that I can really control (especially if degenerative diseases get involved) so I wouldn’t know.

Has anyone ever written a song for you? >> No.

Does it annoy you when people play dumb? >> I don’t really experience that often.

If you married the last person you texted, what would your last name be? >> I am marrying the last person I texted, and my name is going to remain the same.

Are you confused about anything? >> I mean, sure. But not at this exact moment.

Do you think anyone has feelings for you? >> Sure.

Are you a jealous person? >> No.

Do you think you could you handle being in the military? >> No. I don’t even listen to my own orders half the time.

Would you ever quit a bad habit for someone? >> Not for them, for myself. But I might use them as a motivating factor.

When was the last time you gave your number to someone? >> ---

Have you thought about an ex today? >> Yeah, because surveys ask about that sort of thing a lot for some ass reason.

Who was the last person to compliment you? >> I don’t remember.

Are you a social butterfly or a loner? >> More on the loner side of the spectrum than the social butterfly side.

Has anyone said they love you in the last week? >> Yeah.

Do you ever think about stuff and start crying? >> Not usually, unless I’m already in a shit mood.

Are you keeping a big secret right now? >> No.

Have you ever walked on the beach at night? >> I’ve been to Coney Island and Brighton Beach at night.

Have you noticed that it's mostly girls who post bulletin surveys? >> Yeah, so?

When was the last time you felt alone? >> I don’t know. I mean, I often feel like that but it’s a low-grade kind of feeling, like the sound of distant traffic.

Do you want to be famous someday? >> No.

Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? >> Sure, just not necessarily from me.

Are you good at hiding your feelings? >> I think I am.

Are there currently any stressful situations in your life? >> No.

Who is the last person that said you were sexy? >> I don’t know.

Did you kiss anyone tonight? >> Tonight hasn’t happened yet.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? >> Can Calah.

At what age would you most like to get married? >> ---

How often do you type ''<3'? >> Rarely.

What if your ex found out you fell in love with another person? >> Dude.

When was the last time your mom yelled at you? >> ---

Do you trust all your friends? >> ---

Do you believe your latest ex thinks about you? >> I mean, he takes surveys and surveys keep asking about exes, so....... lmao

Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life >> I would really, really, really hate to lose Can Calah. But if I did lose him, I’m pretty sure it’s because of something neither of us could control, not him “walking out of my life”.

Do you laugh a lot? >> I don’t know. What’s a lot?

Anyone say they want to be with you forever? >> Sure. That’s just a thing people say for ~teh roamance~, innit?

Could you ever be friends again with someone that broke your heart? >> ---

Do you want your ex to be happy, even if it means not being with you? >> I mean, sure. I don’t wish unhappiness on him or anything.

Is there a member of the opposite sex on your mind? >> No.

Do you know anyone who would just drop everything to come see you? >> No.

When's the last time you were surprised? >> I went to grab the doorknob to my bedroom last night and there was a pair of socks on it. Sparrow had bought them at Meijer for me.

If an ex said they hated you, what would you say? >> Nothing? Like, why are they telling me, lmao, I don’t care.

When was the last time you were drunk? >> I don’t remember.

Ever taken a picture kissing someone? >> Probably.

Are you giving up on anyone/ anything? >> No.

Is there anyone you wouldn't mind punching at the moment? >> Not unless it was for fun.

Could you ever be friends with the person who hurt you most in life? >> Why would I want to be friends with anyone who hurt me that much? I could instead be friends with people who don’t.

Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to? >> ---

What's something new you recently learned about yourself? >> I don’t remember.

Do your feelings get hurt easily? >> Nope.

If you see a girl with big boobs, do you automatically think shes a slut? >> What the fuck.

Why did you last cry? >> I could have sworn I talked about that on this survey already.

Would you want to know the date of your death? >> No.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? >> No.

Would you prefer a baby girl or boy? >> ---

Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? >> No.

Are you anyone's first love? >> IDFK.

Would you care if your best friend cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend? >> ---

Whats the last thing you lied about? >> I don’t know.

How old were you when you had your first relationship? >> Meh.

What was on your mind mostly today? >> Nothing specific.

Are you in love with anyone at the moment? >> No.

Have you ever been heartbroken? >> Yeah.

Who is the last person you texted? >> Sparrow.

Who do you trust with your life? >> Can Calah.

Are you very family oriented? >> No.

Are you afraid of falling in love? >> No.

Isn't it annoying when an ex doesn't leave you alone? >> That doesn’t happen to me, but I’d definitely find that annoying if it did.

Who's the last person you told I love you to? >> IDK.

Do you believe that it's best to have a friendship first and then love? >> ---

Have you ever sent a text to the wrong person? >> Nope.

Are you happy with your life right now? >> Sure.

[rydenstories]

My Worst Failure as a CPS Worker: The Hall Case

REDDIT

Working for CPS is a sad job, but it's normally not as bad as everyone thinks.

Sure, there are the obviously depressing parts. The whole reason we have to intervene is because something internally destructive is hurting the family dynamic. At the same time, we get to work with these families and do a lot of good. In fact, with the proper counseling, we remove far less children and see more families healed. It's not uncommon that a person is only a poor parent because it's all that they know. People learn.

There are situations that are out of our hands, though, that are the worst. Those ones where no matter how much you help, you just feel like something higher is at play. You find yourself feeling like you're just waiting to clean up the mess.

In our branch, management has always tried to even out cases as much as possible. They wanted to be sure nobody became overwhelmed. Still, there were certain social workers with us that were more pressed to get the job done than the others. "Case-closers." I used to be one of them until recently, with an unsolvable case that's nearly ruined my life.

For privacy reasons, we'll just call this the Hall Case.

It didn't start out abnormal. It was challenging, sure. 8 year old kid being pulled back and forth between a nasty divorce in process. Two whackjob parents, neither of which seemed fit to care for themselves, let alone their daughter. Still, that's not something at all uncommon with us. This particular case had just run for a very long time.

One misconception about CPS workers is that we make the final decisions regarding what happens in these cases. Really, we're just mediators. Here to gather the information in a direct setting, make observations, and report back to those in charge.

I wish it were how it is in films. Reading a file and report isn't the same as observing damage in real time. If I had the choice, I would've placed the little girl with a temporary foster within weeks. Instead, her parents guarded her like a prized gem and fought to near violence to keep her as long as they could. One parent would get their two weeks with the child and we'd have to threaten to intervene when she finally needed to go back to the other.

Things changed when the father, Mr. Hall, was arrested in an unrelated criminal drug case. This gave Mrs. Hall free reign to keep the child as long as she wanted. I guess was partially relieved, knowing at least one of them was away from the child. It also meant I could focus on monitoring just one parent.

However, this is where things begin to get strange.

Mrs. Hall calls me on the day of her scheduled counseling appointment with a question about possibly switching to an alternative counselor. I explained that they'd have to be approved by me and any non-CPS counseling has to be monitored by the case-worker (myself) for a month or so before they can go unattended. She seemed glad but... unconcerned? Like a very "sure, yeah, whatever" attitude.

However, when I tried to meet her at the address she gave for the next counseling session, she and the girl weren't there. The building on the property was a church called "Church of Milcom" that seemed recently occupied but was then empty. It didn't seem that strange to me, in the moment. Churches hold counseling sessions. Maybe we got our times mixed up, I worried. Still, I had to report that they missed the counseling session, which didn't look good for Mrs. Hall.

The next session came and went with no word. Two more days and my superiors sent me to check on the house. Empty, car gone. An elderly neighbor strolled across the lawn as I was leaving and explained that he hadn't seen either of them in a while, likely since the last I spoke to her.

With the evidence mounting, we finally got the local police involved and put out an alert. It seemed very likely that Mrs. Hall had run off with the child. I hated when it came to things like this, but at least it was certain that she would finally be arrested and the little girl would be placed somewhere safe.

Despite all of this seeming very clean cut, I couldn't shake that church out of my head, so I started to do some research. The building was owned by the city but wasn't supposed to be inhabited by anyone, let alone a seemingly fully established church just from a glance. Stranger still, there was no record of a "Church of Milcom" anywhere in the city, state, or country. I brought this up to my superiors, but for some reason, it was left out of the proceedings.

The most helpful tip came surprisingly from Mr. Hall, though not immediately and not directly.

Initially, it was a natural step in the process to go question him in jail, he was the first person we came and saw, but his estranged wife had seen to it that he wouldn't have a clue where they'd go. He said that she'd changed so much over the several months that they were separated, he couldn't fathom where she'd take their daughter. Meanwhile, it seemed like some time behind bars really woke him up, and he seemed more concerned for his daughter than ever before.

For weeks, things stayed the same. We got dozens of false tips and strange individuals trying to claim some involvement. Nothing came of any of it.

When a call came from the jailhouse that they'd possibly recorded a call between Mr and Mrs Hall, we rushed down to hear the recording.

The conversation starts our casual, him clearly not wanting to alarm her. He gently asks her where she's gone. Her air is light and unbothered as she explains that her new church had them on an important trip. She promised she would come back better than ever before. This clearly worried Mr. Hall, the statement lacking the mention of their daughter, which he brings up. There's a long pause on the other end before she gleefully replies that their daughter is going to help in the most wonderful way.

Mr. Hall can't hold his composure anymore and begins to sob, which isn't what Mrs. Hall wants to hear, causing her to hang up.

It was a very strange and very sad exchange. Apparently, after the call, they had to move Mr. Hall to a different area of the jail as he was inconsolable.

Meanwhile, I reported this back to my superiors who, unshockingly at this point, did very little with the information. Their report reflected the religious fanaticism but wouldn't acknowledge the Church of Milcom's involvement at all. Without this information, I knew somewhere inside that nobody would be able to find them.

I started to lose hope as the days went on. We got a call from the jail that Mr. Hall was having nightmares about his daughter. These nightmares made him entirely certain that she was already dead, causing him to lose hope. He was moved to a psychiatric facility to be kept on suicide watch.

This case unsettled me to no end. I couldn't give my other cases the proper attention. I couldn't focus in my personal life. Meanwhile, I was terrified to admit that I had begun to have nightmares as well. This poor little girl, screaming at me from within raging fire. It was almost too much to stand.

I still don't know how she got my personal number, but I was snapped out of one of these nightmares by the ringing of my cellphone. Without really bothering to check the caller ID, I answered to be greeted by Mrs. Hall. All of her certainty and cheerfulness from the jailhouse phone recording was gone, replaced by fear and confusion. She spat near nonsense at me through ugly, unstifled sobs. From the mess, I pulled the information that she was at home.

I put her on mute for a moment as I retrieved the landline from it's base, calling the police and then my superiors to get permission to go to the scene. Afterwards, I got dressed and rushed towards the house.

The police were only just arriving on the scene, awaiting my own arrival to accompany them inside the house. The front door was already partially open and Mrs. Hall sat in a disheveled mess on the couch, still weeping into her phone as if I were still on the other end. However, as she realized that we were inside the room, she jumped up with overwhelmed excitement, sobbing even louder as she threw herself into my arms.

Immediately, there was a lot that was very different about this woman. Although her face was seized up in fear, I could tell that her skin was much smoother and cleaner. Hair that was damaged from years of chemical processing was now silken and new. She even had a bright new set of teeth. Even though she seemed to have lost her mind, Mrs. Hall could've passed as 15 years younger.

It was difficult getting full words out of her, but she didn't need to tell us where the girl was. The police had already slipped past us to check out the rest of the house, and they were indicating toward a back bedroom door that was sealed shut with broken pieces of wooden furniture and nails. There was an awful smell coming from the other side, which put a pit in everyone's stomach but also pushed them to remove the boards quicker.

This is when Mrs. Hall lost it. She tore away from me and began barreling towards the officers in the hallway, screaming for them to stop. She was detained and removed as the final board was removed from the door. Before it could even be sat down, the bedroom door opened from inside.

A foul smelling 8 year old appeared in the doorway, asking if she was allowed to come out now.

There was something strange and casual in her tone that would have felt slightly off if we weren't all so shocked and relieved to see her. I led her out and it should have been the end of everything.

I wish it was.

Initially, both parents were in separate psychiatric facilities, and we really didn't have much to go on. Besides, the case seemed pretty cut and dry to anyone besides myself. There were things I still wondered and worried about, like the Church of Milcom. I wasn't able to get anyone to hear me out, even when the elderly neighbor I'd talked to earlier had gone out of his way to let the authorities know that a grey bus full of people dropped the mother and daughter off that day.

Meanwhile with nobody to care for the Hall girl, we had no choice but to place her with a foster family. The family asked us within two days to begin looking into other options for her and straight brought her back after four.

First and foremost, she smells terrible. The stench of rotten meat has continued to permeate from this girl. More-so, she's just... scary.

At first, she confronted me about the nightmares. It was so casual, I barely caught what she'd said. She had to repeat herself twice; "the nightmares are never going away." Afterward, she continued with the conversation like nothing but I was too shaken to finish speaking with her. It was true, the nightmares hadn't stopped. I still had horrible dreams about this little girl engulfed in flame. It always seemed like she was saying something, but I could never hear her over the roar of flames. Either way, she somehow knew.

It became more serious, to me, when I found her with burnt photographs, which she claimed she'd stolen from another CPS worker's cubicle. There were still cinders falling from the burnt edges, but I couldn't find any sign of matches or a lighter and she wouldn't have had enough time to hide them.

The idea of taking some time off sounded better and better with each passing day. I even started to talk with another caseworker about possibly transferring the Hall case over to him yesterday evening. As if the universe was intervening, my superiors called me into their office with an emergency. The Hall girl disappeared from her current foster home. Even worse, one of her foster brother's was badly injured.

I wasn't allowed to attend on this scene, though I wasn't given a reason why. I was luckily able to convince the coworker who had been there to show me some of the photos she'd taken. At first, I couldn't honestly tell what had happened. This poor kid's neck looked like cooked ham. Only upon closer inspection did I notice the finger impression. Adult finger impressions, literally burnt into this poor child's neck.

I'm not sure if my superiors found out about me seeing these photos, or if everything had just come down the point of blaming me for not preventing any of this, but I was put on indefinite leave this morning.

The boy is in a coma and can't explain what happened, and the Hall girl is still missing. They're treating it as a kidnapping, linking the burns to an unidentified assailant. Now, with everything coming together, I'm entirely sure that's not what happened. It doesn't matter what I think though, at least not at this minute.

I know that when I go to sleep tonight, the nightmares are going to continue. This case.... I don't want to give up on it, but I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure this little girl is done with me. I have lots more research to do, I just hope I can go back to helping people after this.

[brokenhayatim]

exhale

idk how long this is gonna be but it goes a little something like this. you ever been so afraid of failing that you just procrastinate and avoid for so long? each day you tell yourself you’ll finally suck it up and push through but the fear and anxiety are almost so paralyzing you don’t even wanna go near the task.

i’s just been months..like maybe even five at this rate. i tell myself to start the clock the day i graduated but i know the truth. the last year-ish was my idkwhatimdoingwithmylifeohmygod era and i just thought i passed it with a bit more advice and options. but it’s like it was all almost pretty bubbles and they just popped so long ago that i’m lost and confused and afraid and nervous and all of that is so ridiculous, it embarrasses me. i’m not really that lazy but i say it to try and explain alot, i think. or i say that i’m just relaxing or something, when i know everyday my thoughts are always on this same thing and never being good enough to get through the rut. it wasnt till i was on a walk, voice memo-ing a friend and the anxiety just peeked through a bit and i was hearing my own thoughts aloud like ....thats true? and i’m told to not be afraid and to just let whatever happens happen if it’s best for me and i know that but i also dont?

everyday i constantly think about deleting every single social media app i’m on bc i feel this heavy weight of uselessness and incompetence. why couldn’t i have learned things like this person or been more out there like that person?what’s wrong with me? and i begin to rationalize it with my childhood and how i was raised and it never is fulfilling. it’s constantly not enough, nothing about me is. i’m not creative at all and what i can do, so many can do better and so why would anyone actually pick me? even the things and issues i’m passionate about, what do i really know? even my knowledge seems so below average and it’s confusing and stressful. i feel like if someone asked me a question about anything right now that i’ve just forgotten everything important and couldn’t even articulate a proper response. and i wanted to be an activist??? since i have to interview for jobs online now bc the pandemic it’s made me so nervous. i feel most in my element during in person interviews and i say that as someone that’s also awkward and nervous in the room. but i’m more anxious of the constant string of rejections i know i’m gonna receive now bc i can barely speak english and there’s nothing special about me at all. at least in person, i can smile and make it less weird. and i connect so much better that way, which loosens me up .000009% more. it’s really babyish i guess bc everyone is adjusting and i’m just not. and i thought i was with everything but i guess i really wasnt. and coming home everytime makes me fall back into this person i dont like ad i get so sluggish (my sister says its the trauma) and i dont know bc one day she’s waking up in florida and being a good semi productive human and the next she’s back in new york and its many low days and nerves. honestly the way this house sucks the life out of me, i dont even think i’d be good at any remote job. it’s kinda the reason half my brain is pushing the dead part bc i want to leave. be more self-sufficient and alone again. but where and how, you know? obvs im gonna need a job for that. it’s just this domino effect and i’m scared to push the first one and it’s annoying and i hate it goddaammit.  the moment i came home, i just have always felt unworthy and other to my family. like they don;t care, like they’re not proud, like i’ve done nothing these past years and that’s my fault for not being an open book like the rest.

i’m gonna have to edit this bc i will not remember 87 months worth of pandemic thoughts into this post right now but. i tell myself i came home and decided to take a break for a bit, or focused on my health and appointments, but really..i dont know. i think i say it to justify all these hollow days of disappointment, which it never does. i’m afraid to ask for help or even a nice job recommendation from my last employer bc all i can think about is that it’s been months and what have i been doing this whole time? and i think they’ll ask that or think ??? now ??? and i get in my head. i know its not illogical and the worst anyone can say is no and yada yada but ugh this is why i hate my mind and just overthinking ... or not thinking?? who knows. i’m constantly letting myself down but .., i dont want anyone to know that. does that make sense. maybe i have this need to be superficial and make my life seem so nice and good and right bc i never see myself as that and i worry of people’s opinions and crave affirmations. 

the first appt i had coming home was my neurosurgeon one and my dad and him sort of just had this rushed timeline in their heads of how i would go into the ER one day soon and bam its done. i didnt wanna think about that so i tried to focus on my job stuff .. then got stressed so i just started scheduling the appointments i needed. then stopped and did more work stuff. then the secretary called me like ???? u havent done these exams yet and i was like yeah uhhh. bc when i do them it’s one step closer to doing the surgery and i know i want the surgery i’m just getting in my head again and don’t want it to be now. my sister told me to make sure i let her know when i choose a date and i was like mhm i wanna finish the job stuff and get my life sorted first and she was just ???? what ?? this is clearly more important. but here’s the kicker. i went on a walk the other day and just cried coming to terms with it all bc honestly i still dream of not making it out alive and a part of me thinks, at least if i did this one thing right and found a job and all that, that it would okay what happens next. like at least i was successful in that one thing. i think about how unworthy and unproud i am of myself and for months now, just felt like this would be a beautifully cowardice way out. and i think about the after, and cant even imagine strong devastation and sorrow. is that strange? like i expect everyone to just go on. bc i’m a simple buffer with no real purpose left. i walk and think about dreams and hopes and what i would miss and just one thing that make me call this entire fantasy completely insane and i just draw blank. so i cry because, of course. this fantasy isn’t new either, since last year i’ve been speaking to my therapist and writing about it. we would speak of suicide and i always respond like that’s a huge no bc of my religion but i say, i think about if something went wrong and that was it, how i want it to be like that. take the pressure, take the blame, take it all off me in a way. and some days i’m scared that i’ll wake up in the hospital bed after and be in pain and coddled and annoyed by the attention i’m only getting bc of that pain. and i dont want you to be here just because of the pain but i feel like you’re here only because of that. that you came, that you’re seeing me, that you care only because of it. so what am i without it? just back to nothing? the headaches were lonely but i feel less lonely with this diagnosis, like i have something good about me, worthy about me. something that makes me important to someone, even if it’s the neurologist that wants my money. to be real, i dont even think i care about the pain leaving as much as the fact that i can’t label myself as this person with chronic pain. like even if i was cured and oo lala all better, a part of me would still want to have this neuro condition. like ?? i was thinking: imagine beating cancer and feeling better but wanting to say .. and then realized the key difference. with that you survive, you are survivor. even if it’s gone that who you are. when this leaves me, i’m nothing and i’ll just go back to being nothing. no one says u survived brain surgery or survived a brain condition. it’s just done and forgotten. there’s nothing exciting about my life other than my mri visits i swear. i decided to do the surgery bc it would be stupid of me not to, and i’m still holding back, still unsure of even a set month. i just know i didnt want to follow covid rules of 1 visitor bc i know it would be one of my parents and i would jump out the window myself. but covid isnt rlly going away so is that the best excuse i have? i havent thought past these appointments and its almost like im doing it all for the wrong reasons, like enjoying it rather than wanting it to help me. i dont know.

unrelated but a song that always makes me cry and is actually the song i was listening to when i had that panic attack on the plane: finally by james arthur around 2:30. always brings out the hollowness in me hm.

**** i’m coming back to this but i got all my plaguing thoughts outish so

[timalexanderdollery]

Teens are calling themselves “ugly” on TikTok. It’s not as depressing as you think.

Getty Images

Instagram is a beauty pageant. TikTok is where kids are free to be mediocre.

There’s a TikTok that’s just a boy saying, “I may be ugly, but at least I’m also … dumb and annoying.” Then he dances while Ariana Grande’s “Successful” plays. It’s extremely funny, and a little bit sad, and I think about it every day.

Kids on TikTok call themselves ugly all the time, most of the time as a joke, but not always, and I’m never sure how I’m supposed to feel about it. “Why do I look like this? What’s the reason?” asked the popular TikToker @emmwee in her car without makeup. “Me being shocked at how ugly I look,” wrote Brittany Tomlinson, better known as the kombucha girl, at one moment in an unrelated video. “I like a boy but I’m ugly, what do I do with that?” sings 18-year-old high school senior David Postlewate, in one TikTok about a highly familiar experience.

David isn’t ugly by any means — none of these kids are — but the internet has created a never-ending conveyor belt of people so bafflingly good-looking that everyone else is immediately rendered ugly by comparison. “I know that I’m not going to look like Benji Krol,” says David, referring to the TikToker with a nest of raven hair and 5.6 million followers. “But I’m my own person, and that’s what makes you beautiful,” he says, not consciously referring to the One Direction song.

The thing about TikTok is that as much as it is a place for teenagers to goof off in their bedrooms, it is also the world’s largest beauty pageant. After all, part of the fun about making TikToks is getting to stare at your face for as long as you want, and if you happen to be very, very beautiful, then other people will enjoy staring at your face, too. A stunningly massive portion of the app is devoted to genetically blessed users, e-boys like Benji Krol and human Barbies like Loren Gray. A scroll through the TikTok’s home For You feed will reveal plenty of content where, despite whatever action is going on in the video, the real takeaway is “I’m hot.”

It is against this backdrop that its inverse, “I’m ugly” culture, has proliferated. Rather than trying to compete for views and likes with the genetically gifted, kids are pivoting to self-deprecation in a way that’s less depressing than it might seem to concerned parents: it’s a reclamation of mediocrity in an online space where everyone else is an overachiever.

17-year-old Annie Pham was satirizing TikTok’s culture of hot people and glow-ups when she made her viral video in late August. Using a popular meme where people would show their “before” selves and their “after” selves on the beat drop, Annie’s instead showed her “before” self trying and failing to transform. “Why isn’t it working?” she complains to the camera. “After like, a week, I was reading the comments, and it was really cool to see how much people relate to it,” she says.

Relatable videos are why people like TikTok in the first place, and feeling unattractive on TikTok is one of the most relatable experiences of all. David, of the “I like a boy but I’m ugly” video, for instance, has a TikTok bio that reads “ugly is my only personality trait.”

David only made the video because that’s what was happening in his life: He liked a boy who he thought was out of his league. (“He’s really cute, he goes to my school. We’re both in theater,” he says.) He describes himself as a “really confident person,” by the way. He just doesn’t take himself all that seriously.

Normal kids have created an entire genre of internet comedy devoted to how constantly seeing exceptional talent and beauty go viral makes the rest of us feel like ugly losers. On my feed I see videos of kids turning the shitty aspects of their lives into funny content: their most embarrassing sports mistakes, hideous childhood photos, dilapidated apartments, unfortunate haircuts, leg nipples, imprisoned parents, disproportionately long thumbs, sexual ineptitude, mental illness. And of course, their minor physical insecurities: girls who feel like they’re asymmetrical, girls who hate their smiles, girls who have a cute, pretty face but a body that “looks like a fucking potato.”

The layers of irony on any social media app that young people are using can be difficult for adults to parse, but when it relates to topics like body image and self-esteem, psychologists take it seriously. “I kind of celebrate what they’re doing — they’re trying to push back on the idea that we all look perfect on social media,” says Sara Frischer, a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Union Square Practice in New York City. “But I think it’s just a little misguided in how they’re doing it. It’s deflection, and it’s self-protective to then make a joke about it. It protects people from feeling vulnerable.” She gives the example of being a bad speller. If you say to yourself that you’re the worst speller in the world, that’s protecting yourself from someone else pointing it out.

But what if you’re just objectively a bad speller? What would true acceptance of that fact even look like? “That’s where self-compassion comes in,” she says. “Saying, ‘This is something I really struggle with, and I just happen to not be such a great speller.’ Having compassion for yourself, talking about how hard it is to struggle with this, and all the emotions involved. It’s adding self-compassion instead of self-deprecation. That’s the missing element.”

“I’m ugly” culture has spread so far on TikTok that now even TikTok’s “pretty people” are co-opting sounds and memes meant for those self-described uglies. That’s given way to a wider culture of policing, wherein those users’ comments sections are flooded with fishing rods to signify that they’re fishing for compliments.

In July, Ryan Sterling, a 23-year-old in the Chicago suburbs who has had alopecia since he was in middle school, uploaded a video that begins with a picture of Britney Spears with a shaved head followed by a picture of Mr. Clean, and then himself: “It all started when my mom met my dad, then they fell in love, and they had me. Hi, I’m Ryan,” he says. “And my life? It’s kinda crazy.”

Within a few weeks, the “Hi, I’m Ryan” video had spawned a massive viral meme, even ending up on a segment of Ellen. But whereas Ryan’s original video made fun of the way he looked, iterations that came after — often where a person would show their two very attractive parents and the punchline was their even more attractive self — were little more than excuses to brag. In September, Ryan posted another TikTok directed at them: “Get off my sound, it’s for ugly people!” he says. “All you pretty-ass people with your pretty parents and your perfect genes, get out of here! We uglies and the balds and the grosses and the ickies, we need to fight back!”

Olivia Chesney, a 19-year-old at Roger Williams University in Rhode Island, was in the middle of homework when she went into the bathroom to make a random video. She’s standing in front of the mirror and asking, “Why do I be looking so good from the front?” Then she turns to the side and bursts out laughing. The joke is that she looks bigger that way, and the video now has more than 2.5 million views.

That video isn’t the only TikTok she’s made about her body, and not all of them are self-deprecating. There’s one where she shows cute photos her friends have taken of her, and another lip synching to the 1958 swing song “The Bigger the Figure.”

Olivia, like all of us, lives in a world where even if you aren’t born skinny, or distractingly gorgeous, or whatever, you’re still supposed to do everything you possibly can to become those things; to starve your body down and add on some lip fillers until you’re deemed presentable. Americans continue to spend more money on plastic surgery and weight loss plans every year, and one study of UK youth showed that Instagram had the worst effect on body image among any social media site. There are an ever-growing number of billion-dollar industries built upon the profits that come from making people feel awful about themselves, even if those products are shrouded in the aesthetics of positivity and empowerment.

Calling yourself ugly on TikTok, then, is a form of freedom from the expectation of hotness. It’s a self-deprecating in-joke that only excludes the extraordinarily beautiful, who could maybe stand to be excluded from something for once.

“I’m ugly” culture on TikTok also obfuscates its happier subtext: That yeah, it’s okay to be ugly, because now you can focus on more important things. Olivia explains this feeling while talking about a video where she calls herself fat: “People who are ugly, people who are fat, it’s just like, why are we trying to hide it anymore? We can still live our lives and be that way.”

It’s not like “ugly” people don’t happy lives or fall in love or get rich or go viral on TikTok. The boy that David sang about? The one he liked? It’s possible that they’re maybe, sort of in the process of getting together.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, and I don’t know yet because things haven’t really been official,” he tells me, “but I think that stuff is starting to happen with him.” It’s all extremely beautiful.

Sign up for The Goods’ newsletter. Twice a week, we’ll send you the best Goods stories exploring what we buy, why we buy it, and why it matters.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2O9MEAw

[gracieyvonnehunter]

Teens are calling themselves “ugly” on TikTok. It’s not as depressing as you think.

Getty Images

Instagram is a beauty pageant. TikTok is where kids are free to be mediocre.

There’s a TikTok that’s just a boy saying, “I may be ugly, but at least I’m also … dumb and annoying.” Then he dances while Ariana Grande’s “Successful” plays. It’s extremely funny, and a little bit sad, and I think about it every day.

Kids on TikTok call themselves ugly all the time, most of the time as a joke, but not always, and I’m never sure how I’m supposed to feel about it. “Why do I look like this? What’s the reason?” asked the popular TikToker @emmwee in her car without makeup. “Me being shocked at how ugly I look,” wrote Brittany Tomlinson, better known as the kombucha girl, at one moment in an unrelated video. “I like a boy but I’m ugly, what do I do with that?” sings 18-year-old high school senior David Postlewate, in one TikTok about a highly familiar experience.

David isn’t ugly by any means — none of these kids are — but the internet has created a never-ending conveyor belt of people so bafflingly good-looking that everyone else is immediately rendered ugly by comparison. “I know that I’m not going to look like Benji Krol,” says David, referring to the TikToker with a nest of raven hair and 5.6 million followers. “But I’m my own person, and that’s what makes you beautiful,” he says, not consciously referring to the One Direction song.

The thing about TikTok is that as much as it is a place for teenagers to goof off in their bedrooms, it is also the world’s largest beauty pageant. After all, part of the fun about making TikToks is getting to stare at your face for as long as you want, and if you happen to be very, very beautiful, then other people will enjoy staring at your face, too. A stunningly massive portion of the app is devoted to genetically blessed users, e-boys like Benji Krol and human Barbies like Loren Gray. A scroll through the TikTok’s home For You feed will reveal plenty of content where, despite whatever action is going on in the video, the real takeaway is “I’m hot.”

It is against this backdrop that its inverse, “I’m ugly” culture, has proliferated. Rather than trying to compete for views and likes with the genetically gifted, kids are pivoting to self-deprecation in a way that’s less depressing than it might seem to concerned parents: it’s a reclamation of mediocrity in an online space where everyone else is an overachiever.

17-year-old Annie Pham was satirizing TikTok’s culture of hot people and glow-ups when she made her viral video in late August. Using a popular meme where people would show their “before” selves and their “after” selves on the beat drop, Annie’s instead showed her “before” self trying and failing to transform. “Why isn’t it working?” she complains to the camera. “After like, a week, I was reading the comments, and it was really cool to see how much people relate to it,” she says.

Relatable videos are why people like TikTok in the first place, and feeling unattractive on TikTok is one of the most relatable experiences of all. David, of the “I like a boy but I’m ugly” video, for instance, has a TikTok bio that reads “ugly is my only personality trait.”

David only made the video because that’s what was happening in his life: He liked a boy who he thought was out of his league. (“He’s really cute, he goes to my school. We’re both in theater,” he says.) He describes himself as a “really confident person,” by the way. He just doesn’t take himself all that seriously.

Normal kids have created an entire genre of internet comedy devoted to how constantly seeing exceptional talent and beauty go viral makes the rest of us feel like ugly losers. On my feed I see videos of kids turning the shitty aspects of their lives into funny content: their most embarrassing sports mistakes, hideous childhood photos, dilapidated apartments, unfortunate haircuts, leg nipples, imprisoned parents, disproportionately long thumbs, sexual ineptitude, mental illness. And of course, their minor physical insecurities: girls who feel like they’re asymmetrical, girls who hate their smiles, girls who have a cute, pretty face but a body that “looks like a fucking potato.”

The layers of irony on any social media app that young people are using can be difficult for adults to parse, but when it relates to topics like body image and self-esteem, psychologists take it seriously. “I kind of celebrate what they’re doing — they’re trying to push back on the idea that we all look perfect on social media,” says Sara Frischer, a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Union Square Practice in New York City. “But I think it’s just a little misguided in how they’re doing it. It’s deflection, and it’s self-protective to then make a joke about it. It protects people from feeling vulnerable.” She gives the example of being a bad speller. If you say to yourself that you’re the worst speller in the world, that’s protecting yourself from someone else pointing it out.

But what if you’re just objectively a bad speller? What would true acceptance of that fact even look like? “That’s where self-compassion comes in,” she says. “Saying, ‘This is something I really struggle with, and I just happen to not be such a great speller.’ Having compassion for yourself, talking about how hard it is to struggle with this, and all the emotions involved. It’s adding self-compassion instead of self-deprecation. That’s the missing element.”

“I’m ugly” culture has spread so far on TikTok that now even TikTok’s “pretty people” are co-opting sounds and memes meant for those self-described uglies. That’s given way to a wider culture of policing, wherein those users’ comments sections are flooded with fishing rods to signify that they’re fishing for compliments.

In July, Ryan Sterling, a 23-year-old in the Chicago suburbs who has had alopecia since he was in middle school, uploaded a video that begins with a picture of Britney Spears with a shaved head followed by a picture of Mr. Clean, and then himself: “It all started when my mom met my dad, then they fell in love, and they had me. Hi, I’m Ryan,” he says. “And my life? It’s kinda crazy.”

Within a few weeks, the “Hi, I’m Ryan” video had spawned a massive viral meme, even ending up on a segment of Ellen. But whereas Ryan’s original video made fun of the way he looked, iterations that came after — often where a person would show their two very attractive parents and the punchline was their even more attractive self — were little more than excuses to brag. In September, Ryan posted another TikTok directed at them: “Get off my sound, it’s for ugly people!” he says. “All you pretty-ass people with your pretty parents and your perfect genes, get out of here! We uglies and the balds and the grosses and the ickies, we need to fight back!”

Olivia Chesney, a 19-year-old at Roger Williams University in Rhode Island, was in the middle of homework when she went into the bathroom to make a random video. She’s standing in front of the mirror and asking, “Why do I be looking so good from the front?” Then she turns to the side and bursts out laughing. The joke is that she looks bigger that way, and the video now has more than 2.5 million views.

That video isn’t the only TikTok she’s made about her body, and not all of them are self-deprecating. There’s one where she shows cute photos her friends have taken of her, and another lip synching to the 1958 swing song “The Bigger the Figure.”

Olivia, like all of us, lives in a world where even if you aren’t born skinny, or distractingly gorgeous, or whatever, you’re still supposed to do everything you possibly can to become those things; to starve your body down and add on some lip fillers until you’re deemed presentable. Americans continue to spend more money on plastic surgery and weight loss plans every year, and one study of UK youth showed that Instagram had the worst effect on body image among any social media site. There are an ever-growing number of billion-dollar industries built upon the profits that come from making people feel awful about themselves, even if those products are shrouded in the aesthetics of positivity and empowerment.

Calling yourself ugly on TikTok, then, is a form of freedom from the expectation of hotness. It’s a self-deprecating in-joke that only excludes the extraordinarily beautiful, who could maybe stand to be excluded from something for once.

“I’m ugly” culture on TikTok also obfuscates its happier subtext: That yeah, it’s okay to be ugly, because now you can focus on more important things. Olivia explains this feeling while talking about a video where she calls herself fat: “People who are ugly, people who are fat, it’s just like, why are we trying to hide it anymore? We can still live our lives and be that way.”

It’s not like “ugly” people don’t happy lives or fall in love or get rich or go viral on TikTok. The boy that David sang about? The one he liked? It’s possible that they’re maybe, sort of in the process of getting together.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, and I don’t know yet because things haven’t really been official,” he tells me, “but I think that stuff is starting to happen with him.” It’s all extremely beautiful.

Sign up for The Goods’ newsletter. Twice a week, we’ll send you the best Goods stories exploring what we buy, why we buy it, and why it matters.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2O9MEAw

[corneliusreignallen]

Teens are calling themselves “ugly” on TikTok. It’s not as depressing as you think.

Getty Images

Instagram is a beauty pageant. TikTok is where kids are free to be mediocre.

There’s a TikTok that’s just a boy saying, “I may be ugly, but at least I’m also … dumb and annoying.” Then he dances while Ariana Grande’s “Successful” plays. It’s extremely funny, and a little bit sad, and I think about it every day.

Kids on TikTok call themselves ugly all the time, most of the time as a joke, but not always, and I’m never sure how I’m supposed to feel about it. “Why do I look like this? What’s the reason?” asked the popular TikToker @emmwee in her car without makeup. “Me being shocked at how ugly I look,” wrote Brittany Tomlinson, better known as the kombucha girl, at one moment in an unrelated video. “I like a boy but I’m ugly, what do I do with that?” sings 18-year-old high school senior David Postlewate, in one TikTok about a highly familiar experience.

David isn’t ugly by any means — none of these kids are — but the internet has created a never-ending conveyor belt of people so bafflingly good-looking that everyone else is immediately rendered ugly by comparison. “I know that I’m not going to look like Benji Krol,” says David, referring to the TikToker with a nest of raven hair and 5.6 million followers. “But I’m my own person, and that’s what makes you beautiful,” he says, not consciously referring to the One Direction song.

The thing about TikTok is that as much as it is a place for teenagers to goof off in their bedrooms, it is also the world’s largest beauty pageant. After all, part of the fun about making TikToks is getting to stare at your face for as long as you want, and if you happen to be very, very beautiful, then other people will enjoy staring at your face, too. A stunningly massive portion of the app is devoted to genetically blessed users, e-boys like Benji Krol and human Barbies like Loren Gray. A scroll through the TikTok’s home For You feed will reveal plenty of content where, despite whatever action is going on in the video, the real takeaway is “I’m hot.”

It is against this backdrop that its inverse, “I’m ugly” culture, has proliferated. Rather than trying to compete for views and likes with the genetically gifted, kids are pivoting to self-deprecation in a way that’s less depressing than it might seem to concerned parents: it’s a reclamation of mediocrity in an online space where everyone else is an overachiever.

17-year-old Annie Pham was satirizing TikTok’s culture of hot people and glow-ups when she made her viral video in late August. Using a popular meme where people would show their “before” selves and their “after” selves on the beat drop, Annie’s instead showed her “before” self trying and failing to transform. “Why isn’t it working?” she complains to the camera. “After like, a week, I was reading the comments, and it was really cool to see how much people relate to it,” she says.

Relatable videos are why people like TikTok in the first place, and feeling unattractive on TikTok is one of the most relatable experiences of all. David, of the “I like a boy but I’m ugly” video, for instance, has a TikTok bio that reads “ugly is my only personality trait.”

David only made the video because that’s what was happening in his life: He liked a boy who he thought was out of his league. (“He’s really cute, he goes to my school. We’re both in theater,” he says.) He describes himself as a “really confident person,” by the way. He just doesn’t take himself all that seriously.

Normal kids have created an entire genre of internet comedy devoted to how constantly seeing exceptional talent and beauty go viral makes the rest of us feel like ugly losers. On my feed I see videos of kids turning the shitty aspects of their lives into funny content: their most embarrassing sports mistakes, hideous childhood photos, dilapidated apartments, unfortunate haircuts, leg nipples, imprisoned parents, disproportionately long thumbs, sexual ineptitude, mental illness. And of course, their minor physical insecurities: girls who feel like they’re asymmetrical, girls who hate their smiles, girls who have a cute, pretty face but a body that “looks like a fucking potato.”

The layers of irony on any social media app that young people are using can be difficult for adults to parse, but when it relates to topics like body image and self-esteem, psychologists take it seriously. “I kind of celebrate what they’re doing — they’re trying to push back on the idea that we all look perfect on social media,” says Sara Frischer, a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Union Square Practice in New York City. “But I think it’s just a little misguided in how they’re doing it. It’s deflection, and it’s self-protective to then make a joke about it. It protects people from feeling vulnerable.” She gives the example of being a bad speller. If you say to yourself that you’re the worst speller in the world, that’s protecting yourself from someone else pointing it out.

But what if you’re just objectively a bad speller? What would true acceptance of that fact even look like? “That’s where self-compassion comes in,” she says. “Saying, ‘This is something I really struggle with, and I just happen to not be such a great speller.’ Having compassion for yourself, talking about how hard it is to struggle with this, and all the emotions involved. It’s adding self-compassion instead of self-deprecation. That’s the missing element.”

“I’m ugly” culture has spread so far on TikTok that now even TikTok’s “pretty people” are co-opting sounds and memes meant for those self-described uglies. That’s given way to a wider culture of policing, wherein those users’ comments sections are flooded with fishing rods to signify that they’re fishing for compliments.

In July, Ryan Sterling, a 23-year-old in the Chicago suburbs who has had alopecia since he was in middle school, uploaded a video that begins with a picture of Britney Spears with a shaved head followed by a picture of Mr. Clean, and then himself: “It all started when my mom met my dad, then they fell in love, and they had me. Hi, I’m Ryan,” he says. “And my life? It’s kinda crazy.”

Within a few weeks, the “Hi, I’m Ryan” video had spawned a massive viral meme, even ending up on a segment of Ellen. But whereas Ryan’s original video made fun of the way he looked, iterations that came after — often where a person would show their two very attractive parents and the punchline was their even more attractive self — were little more than excuses to brag. In September, Ryan posted another TikTok directed at them: “Get off my sound, it’s for ugly people!” he says. “All you pretty-ass people with your pretty parents and your perfect genes, get out of here! We uglies and the balds and the grosses and the ickies, we need to fight back!”

Olivia Chesney, a 19-year-old at Roger Williams University in Rhode Island, was in the middle of homework when she went into the bathroom to make a random video. She’s standing in front of the mirror and asking, “Why do I be looking so good from the front?” Then she turns to the side and bursts out laughing. The joke is that she looks bigger that way, and the video now has more than 2.5 million views.

That video isn’t the only TikTok she’s made about her body, and not all of them are self-deprecating. There’s one where she shows cute photos her friends have taken of her, and another lip synching to the 1958 swing song “The Bigger the Figure.”

Olivia, like all of us, lives in a world where even if you aren’t born skinny, or distractingly gorgeous, or whatever, you’re still supposed to do everything you possibly can to become those things; to starve your body down and add on some lip fillers until you’re deemed presentable. Americans continue to spend more money on plastic surgery and weight loss plans every year, and one study of UK youth showed that Instagram had the worst effect on body image among any social media site. There are an ever-growing number of billion-dollar industries built upon the profits that come from making people feel awful about themselves, even if those products are shrouded in the aesthetics of positivity and empowerment.

Calling yourself ugly on TikTok, then, is a form of freedom from the expectation of hotness. It’s a self-deprecating in-joke that only excludes the extraordinarily beautiful, who could maybe stand to be excluded from something for once.

“I’m ugly” culture on TikTok also obfuscates its happier subtext: That yeah, it’s okay to be ugly, because now you can focus on more important things. Olivia explains this feeling while talking about a video where she calls herself fat: “People who are ugly, people who are fat, it’s just like, why are we trying to hide it anymore? We can still live our lives and be that way.”

It’s not like “ugly” people don’t happy lives or fall in love or get rich or go viral on TikTok. The boy that David sang about? The one he liked? It’s possible that they’re maybe, sort of in the process of getting together.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, and I don’t know yet because things haven’t really been official,” he tells me, “but I think that stuff is starting to happen with him.” It’s all extremely beautiful.

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[shanedakotamuir]

Teens are calling themselves “ugly” on TikTok. It’s not as depressing as you think.

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Instagram is a beauty pageant. TikTok is where kids are free to be mediocre.

There’s a TikTok that’s just a boy saying, “I may be ugly, but at least I’m also … dumb and annoying.” Then he dances while Ariana Grande’s “Successful” plays. It’s extremely funny, and a little bit sad, and I think about it every day.

Kids on TikTok call themselves ugly all the time, most of the time as a joke, but not always, and I’m never sure how I’m supposed to feel about it. “Why do I look like this? What’s the reason?” asked the popular TikToker @emmwee in her car without makeup. “Me being shocked at how ugly I look,” wrote Brittany Tomlinson, better known as the kombucha girl, at one moment in an unrelated video. “I like a boy but I’m ugly, what do I do with that?” sings 18-year-old high school senior David Postlewate, in one TikTok about a highly familiar experience.

David isn’t ugly by any means — none of these kids are — but the internet has created a never-ending conveyor belt of people so bafflingly good-looking that everyone else is immediately rendered ugly by comparison. “I know that I’m not going to look like Benji Krol,” says David, referring to the TikToker with a nest of raven hair and 5.6 million followers. “But I’m my own person, and that’s what makes you beautiful,” he says, not consciously referring to the One Direction song.

The thing about TikTok is that as much as it is a place for teenagers to goof off in their bedrooms, it is also the world’s largest beauty pageant. After all, part of the fun about making TikToks is getting to stare at your face for as long as you want, and if you happen to be very, very beautiful, then other people will enjoy staring at your face, too. A stunningly massive portion of the app is devoted to genetically blessed users, e-boys like Benji Krol and human Barbies like Loren Gray. A scroll through the TikTok’s home For You feed will reveal plenty of content where, despite whatever action is going on in the video, the real takeaway is “I’m hot.”

It is against this backdrop that its inverse, “I’m ugly” culture, has proliferated. Rather than trying to compete for views and likes with the genetically gifted, kids are pivoting to self-deprecation in a way that’s less depressing than it might seem to concerned parents: it’s a reclamation of mediocrity in an online space where everyone else is an overachiever.

17-year-old Annie Pham was satirizing TikTok’s culture of hot people and glow-ups when she made her viral video in late August. Using a popular meme where people would show their “before” selves and their “after” selves on the beat drop, Annie’s instead showed her “before” self trying and failing to transform. “Why isn’t it working?” she complains to the camera. “After like, a week, I was reading the comments, and it was really cool to see how much people relate to it,” she says.

Relatable videos are why people like TikTok in the first place, and feeling unattractive on TikTok is one of the most relatable experiences of all. David, of the “I like a boy but I’m ugly” video, for instance, has a TikTok bio that reads “ugly is my only personality trait.”

David only made the video because that’s what was happening in his life: He liked a boy who he thought was out of his league. (“He’s really cute, he goes to my school. We’re both in theater,” he says.) He describes himself as a “really confident person,” by the way. He just doesn’t take himself all that seriously.

Normal kids have created an entire genre of internet comedy devoted to how constantly seeing exceptional talent and beauty go viral makes the rest of us feel like ugly losers. On my feed I see videos of kids turning the shitty aspects of their lives into funny content: their most embarrassing sports mistakes, hideous childhood photos, dilapidated apartments, unfortunate haircuts, leg nipples, imprisoned parents, disproportionately long thumbs, sexual ineptitude, mental illness. And of course, their minor physical insecurities: girls who feel like they’re asymmetrical, girls who hate their smiles, girls who have a cute, pretty face but a body that “looks like a fucking potato.”

The layers of irony on any social media app that young people are using can be difficult for adults to parse, but when it relates to topics like body image and self-esteem, psychologists take it seriously. “I kind of celebrate what they’re doing — they’re trying to push back on the idea that we all look perfect on social media,” says Sara Frischer, a psychiatric nurse practitioner at Union Square Practice in New York City. “But I think it’s just a little misguided in how they’re doing it. It’s deflection, and it’s self-protective to then make a joke about it. It protects people from feeling vulnerable.” She gives the example of being a bad speller. If you say to yourself that you’re the worst speller in the world, that’s protecting yourself from someone else pointing it out.

But what if you’re just objectively a bad speller? What would true acceptance of that fact even look like? “That’s where self-compassion comes in,” she says. “Saying, ‘This is something I really struggle with, and I just happen to not be such a great speller.’ Having compassion for yourself, talking about how hard it is to struggle with this, and all the emotions involved. It’s adding self-compassion instead of self-deprecation. That’s the missing element.”

“I’m ugly” culture has spread so far on TikTok that now even TikTok’s “pretty people” are co-opting sounds and memes meant for those self-described uglies. That’s given way to a wider culture of policing, wherein those users’ comments sections are flooded with fishing rods to signify that they’re fishing for compliments.

In July, Ryan Sterling, a 23-year-old in the Chicago suburbs who has had alopecia since he was in middle school, uploaded a video that begins with a picture of Britney Spears with a shaved head followed by a picture of Mr. Clean, and then himself: “It all started when my mom met my dad, then they fell in love, and they had me. Hi, I’m Ryan,” he says. “And my life? It’s kinda crazy.”

Within a few weeks, the “Hi, I’m Ryan” video had spawned a massive viral meme, even ending up on a segment of Ellen. But whereas Ryan’s original video made fun of the way he looked, iterations that came after — often where a person would show their two very attractive parents and the punchline was their even more attractive self — were little more than excuses to brag. In September, Ryan posted another TikTok directed at them: “Get off my sound, it’s for ugly people!” he says. “All you pretty-ass people with your pretty parents and your perfect genes, get out of here! We uglies and the balds and the grosses and the ickies, we need to fight back!”

Olivia Chesney, a 19-year-old at Roger Williams University in Rhode Island, was in the middle of homework when she went into the bathroom to make a random video. She’s standing in front of the mirror and asking, “Why do I be looking so good from the front?” Then she turns to the side and bursts out laughing. The joke is that she looks bigger that way, and the video now has more than 2.5 million views.

That video isn’t the only TikTok she’s made about her body, and not all of them are self-deprecating. There’s one where she shows cute photos her friends have taken of her, and another lip synching to the 1958 swing song “The Bigger the Figure.”

Olivia, like all of us, lives in a world where even if you aren’t born skinny, or distractingly gorgeous, or whatever, you’re still supposed to do everything you possibly can to become those things; to starve your body down and add on some lip fillers until you’re deemed presentable. Americans continue to spend more money on plastic surgery and weight loss plans every year, and one study of UK youth showed that Instagram had the worst effect on body image among any social media site. There are an ever-growing number of billion-dollar industries built upon the profits that come from making people feel awful about themselves, even if those products are shrouded in the aesthetics of positivity and empowerment.

Calling yourself ugly on TikTok, then, is a form of freedom from the expectation of hotness. It’s a self-deprecating in-joke that only excludes the extraordinarily beautiful, who could maybe stand to be excluded from something for once.

“I’m ugly” culture on TikTok also obfuscates its happier subtext: That yeah, it’s okay to be ugly, because now you can focus on more important things. Olivia explains this feeling while talking about a video where she calls herself fat: “People who are ugly, people who are fat, it’s just like, why are we trying to hide it anymore? We can still live our lives and be that way.”

It’s not like “ugly” people don’t happy lives or fall in love or get rich or go viral on TikTok. The boy that David sang about? The one he liked? It’s possible that they’re maybe, sort of in the process of getting together.

“If I’m going to be completely honest, and I don’t know yet because things haven’t really been official,” he tells me, “but I think that stuff is starting to happen with him.” It’s all extremely beautiful.

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