#I only see my undergrad uni friends once a year (I love them still but I don’t even get texts nowadays)

[starkidlabs]

At this point it feels like I’m not even back at square one. It’s more like I’m at the lowest point my life can possibly get.

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Oh, my love (pour me that jack and coke)

Summary: only one more time won’t make any difference, right?

Warnings: FWB!harry, smut. Just the life I wanted to live, honestly.

Wordk count: 3K (small one, sorry, my job and uni are kind of hard right now)

My masterlist

A/n: heeey guys I’m back this time with a fic for @stylesharrys 10k celebration. I got the prompt FWB!harry: “you’re alright, love? You seem a bit flustetered”. Don’t forget to support the other authors who are participating on the challenge HERE. And the singer they listen at the festival that takes place in the flashback is this ONE. 

PREVIEW

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He was wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever. 

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine paiting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue. 

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean... only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

They were sitting together at the coffee just down from their work place. Y/n was staring at the judgmental eyes of her best friend, Natasha. Her black eyes looked like two grapes because of her wide stare. 

“It’s not a big deal” y/n said, drinking from her cappuccino with a douple shot and a hint of mint essence. 

“He’s your best friend”

“Who can I trust more to fuck me without breaking my heart than my best friend?”

“You don’t think NOTHING could go wrong?”

Nat was raising her voice, a little bit surprised that her childhood friend just told her that Harry fucked her just  6 days ago, at the Lights festival

“I don’t know if I want to know more or ask you to never talk about it”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you if the rumors are true?”

“You are a little bitch. Tell me all of it”

6 days ago...

She was seeing the worlds in colors. The woman singing on the staged was called Sevdaliza and she had the most sensual music ever.

Harry, just like her, was high and they both ended up loosing their friends in the middle of the crowd. Y/n looked at Harry with his glittery yellow shirt and white jeans. He looked like he fit the part: graduated from film school, always writing poetry and reading them at the coffee next to his house. He was celebrating: his script was going to be shot, the small production office decided to endorse his project and he was on cloud nine.

Quite differently from the time she met him: undergrad student, insecure about his art. She worked as a designer and photographer and met him at a visual arts masterclass a few years back, when they were both on their early twenties. Now, each day closer to reaching the big 30s, they were the best of friends. Always together.

Y/n always thought they had nothing but friendship, but now, so close to him, listening to Sevdaliza voice melt the audience of the festival, with his cinnamon smell so tangible in the air and his bird warmt so close: she wasn’t so sure if it was just friendship.

And she can’t deny, she was curious if the rumors were true: was he THAT good in bed or all the lovers of his she ever met were just easily impressed?

What she didn’t spect was for Harry to also have the same questions. He was just behind her getting closer and closer till both of his arms were around her waist and he was crouching so his face could fit like a pluzze in the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“You smell good” Harry said in a low voice that was meant just for her

“H, what are you doing?”

“I was just wondering...” he was using his hands to turn her around but not releasing her from him, his nose touching hers, his mint breath blinding all of her senses “we are so good together, always helping each other out, figuring it out exactly just what the other wants. So... maybe... you and I could make quite a pair on the sheets...” that only thing Harry got wrong the night was about the sheets: they fucked in her living room.

Now

If you ask y/n she doesn’t remember who kissed who. But they kissed till the show was over and next thing she knew they were sharing a uber back to her place. Nat was staring at her like she had comitted a crime. She wasn’t planning on telling anyone, thinking it was a one time thing. But she was surprised when during a presentation during work she god a text from Harry asking if she wanted to go back to his place after work and maybe have a repeat of last Saturday and Nat was right beside her.

So she had to tell. But judging by Nats reaction, it would have been better if she had lied about it.

“You’re still going to his place. Even if you know what might happen?”

“I mean... is another time really going to make any difference?”

Latter that day

The bus was moving slowly, the 5 o’clock traffic was the worse: nobody had patience, everybody with a 9-5 job was just crazy to finally get home and be able to rest.

From the bus window y/n could see the sky painting the city, the golden light was starting to make itself aware, combining with the aesthetic of the old buildings and bridges.

That’s probably one of her favorite things to do: observe the town she lived in; that city was just so beautiful. There was a contrast of the old with the new. The sun reflecting on the river, calm as ever, while people were running across the streetwalks, dreaming of a homecooked meal and a place to rest.

The bus was taking a left, ready to cross the revolving bridge. Harry’s place was getting closer and she could feel her stomach starting to turn with anxiety  all of it in the forms of butterflies.

Harry’s place was above an old movie place, people say the building dates back to the 1930s: 5 floors, the first being an old movies that still worked, only showcasing indie movies and oldies from the 40-80s. She remembers the first time she ever visited Harry, they talked for hours to end and then they went to the screening of a Doris Day festival. She went home that day singing to herself the theme song of the movie Pillow Talk, thinking to herself why she never went to an old movie theater till that day.

After getting off the bus, she walked just around 10 meters till she was face to face with the old movie theater sign. Today they would have a screening of shorts films from the 40s from 6 to 8 pm and then they would showcase the new movie based on Gloria Steinem’s best seller memoire called The glorias. Maybe if they were done till 10pm she could catch the movie.

Harry’s apartment was on the second floor, with a wooden door, a cat tapestry underneath saying: meowcom. She never thought it was funny but when they saw it at the street fair last year he laughter so hard at it she decided to give him as a Secret Santa gift.

“Don’t you look tired yet dashing this fine evening , miss” said his voice once he opened the door. Stepping aside so she could come in.

She went for a hug, he went for a kiss: they nocked their foreheads.

“Fuck why does your head have to be so big” she asked while taking her shoes off and walking towards his strawberry shaped sofa.

“You can’t expect me to be a movie genius with a small head, right?”

“The question is: what head are you talking about?”

“You know I have both heads quite big, so I don’t know why you asked” he took her purse from her, resting the object on the small table he had set closer to the door so he could always throw whatever he had in his hands there. Y/n took the moment to appreciate how he looked today: baby pink flare trousers and a graphic shirt, he was barefoot but with his rings still on his fingers; she knew he got home not too long ago.

“Harry what is that smell” she was referring to the tangerine smell that was all around his place

“Oh, it’s this tangerine essence oil I got from my upstairs neighbor... you know that one that always reads your tarot?”

“You’re talking about the witch?”

“Yeah, she prefers to refer herself as Wicca but yeah, her. She gave it to me to clean my energy now that I have this big project. And it smells quite nice, doesn’t?”

“Yeah it does” she could feel his eyes on her while she was playing with her nails “so what do you wanna do today?”

“I was thinking we could watch a movie here and then we can see where we wanna go from there?”

“do you have any jack and coke?”

He smirked at her and said:

“With ice?”

The night was young and it was only starting...

After a few glasses and a heated conversation about what movie they were going to watch, they both settled for closer because of the crush they shared on the cast.

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He had changed his outfit, now wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever.

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine painting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue.

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean… only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

With that being said, he turned the movie off and she got up from the couch, going to the bathroom and started to look at herself on the mirror

“You know what you need to do. You’ve never done it yourself but you know, I know he has more experience but he is your friend. Nothing can go wrong because he can help you. You both thrust each other and when it comes to sex consent and thrust are the two most important things. You have both with him.”

While y/n was having a mental breakdown over a lap dance, Harry was excited with the idea, cleaning the pizza they were eating and taking the now empty cups of jack and coke back to the kitchen.

He didn’t tell anyone but he was so glad they fucked last Saturday. It just made everything better. She didn’t have to know about how he always had the hots for her. She didn’t have to know that sometimes he would take people to his bed and picture they were her. And she definitely didn’t have to know that another time does make a difference to him.

Diming the lights and looking for the perfects songs to go on about this night. He was shaking with anticipation. After choosing to just play Childsish Bambino (you can never go wrong with that guy) he sat on the couch and that was the moment she opened the door of his bathroom. She had taken off her pants, just with her social shirt loose on her body, with the buttons down to the middle of her chest, her hair always messy and her very colored lips looking so delicious, just waiting for him to say “come here” and she would go... like a little puppy.

“I have never done this so you need to be nice to me”

“Darling... I’m always nice”

She walked over to him, but stopping halfway, going on her fours and crawling her way to him.

“I still have a lot of bite marks on my boobs that prove the exact opposite” now standing in front on him, on her knees, spreading him open, with her tint hands massaging his thighs, marking her way to his short “you don’t mind if I take off your shorts right” she was with her face inching closer to his legs, resting her head right on top of the tiger tattoo, teasing him “I have never given someone a lap dance but I do know that the less clothe, the better if feels”

With both of her hands she took off his pants while he got rid of his shirt. Standing still she admired his body, why did she waited so much to get on it with him? He was soft on the sides but with a strength beneat the bones, with a few abs and chest bigger than most. Green fucked up eyes and rosy lips. He deserved to be on all of the screens, all of the stages, not living in a small flat above an old movie theater.

“You know” Harry broke the silence “for one to give a lap dance she must actually be on top of him”

She didn’t answered him, instead sitting herself on his knees not allowing him any more than that touch. With the tips of his fingers he started to trace her face, admiring her. She was a beacon of light, with every color shining inside her eyes, every sin could be found in her lips but every prayer was found on the way she would blush at his words.

Putting her hair behind her shoulder she got closer and closer to him, using her knees on either side of his body to help her move. Feeling his warmth. She didn’t know how to give a lap dance but she knows him. She knows what makes his knees buckle and what makes him shiver. She was going to make him her little puppy. So with all the confidence she could muster, biting his vein that was always apparent on the neck, her hips started to move.

He was semi hard but the more she moved, the more she could feel him getting harder. That was one of the things she loved the most about sex: the foreplay.

“You know” she got back to talking, not stopping her hips, using her hands to tease all of his body “when we are like this is when I remember how much I’ve always wanted you”

“Fuck, love. You’re going to kill me”

“Oh my love, you have not seen a thing” with one of her hands she started to take off her shirt, leaving her with a rose gold brallete that matched her barely there panties “You alright, love? Look a bit flustered.”

She was mocking him, trying to copy his British accent but that only got him a side smile while his eyes were fixated on the way her nipples could be seen through the piece of glittery fabric. She was having so much fun

“You know” Harry said trying to get a bit of his control back “when you talk like this, you drive me fucking mad” with one hand climbing on her back, till he reached for her roots, tugging on it, now she didn’t knew it she was the one in control  “when you mess with my neck, or when I pull your thighs further apart and I can feel just how wet you actually are and then you kiss me and I’m closer to the point of no return”

With a hand behind and knee he got up, changing position and spreading her all over the tapestry on the floor, the fluffy blood red velvet matching with her skin. He now had the upper hand and he was going to make a good use of it.

With his kisses going down her neck, he started to rut his body against her. Her moisture could be felt throught his underwear and there was nothing that Harry wanted more than to fully ravish the defenseless girl panting underneath his tattooed body. Glistening with sweat and moaning without an ounce of regret.

He wanted her to know he was the only one that could do this to her. With his hand playing with her breast while the other was getting closer and closer to her mound, he looked at her. With her open mouth and closed eyes, out of a painting that deserved its place on the Louvre. He decided to use her own words against her:

“You alright, love? Look a bit frustrated”

“You asshole just fuck me already”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you good. But only if you promise to stay the night”

“Is this really a good idea?”

“One more time won’t make any difference, right?”

Laughing at the irony she pulled him closer. They had a deal... because it won’t make any difference, right?

But it did.

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Hiya lovely,

I love your answers to your asks so I thought I’d give it a go. I’m 18 years old and I’m attending a very prestigious university however my first term was very traumatic which has knocked me off a bit - like my sleeping routine was jacked up which I’m still recovering from and my mental health was so severe my tutors allowed me to not do much work- and so I’m looking for some advice. I want to marry rich, there’s no ifs or buts about that but how do I navigate uni life to find rich men and live the life I deserve. So basically how can I live the hypergamous life in uni? Much love - 💄

Hi darling.

The first semester is very traumatic. Especially when you’re coming from a middle class background into a plauground of privileged kids.

My first semester in undergrad, I drunkenly walked into a bathroom stall and startled the girl inside so much she dropped roughly $2k worth of pure coke in the toilet. I hadn’t been around hard drugs like that before. I’d heard other models and students talk about it, but never been around it myself. I was drunkenly apologizing, and she just shrugged, grabbed her clutch from the floor, and opened up another baggie of coke.

The culture shock threw me so badly I literally felt something snap in my brain as I reoriented myself in this new world I had entered. I definitely decided to go hard, work hard, study hard(ish), and party hard. I failed three (maybe two, it’s fuzzy) of my classes, bawled my eyes out because I’d never failed anything in my life before, managed to make them up by schmoozing hard, and then I came back home that winter and had to reorient myself back into the world I had grown up in and knew like the back of my hand.

That first semester wreaks havoc on your body and mind. No matter what university you go to, or where you came from. It’s all hormones and random depressive episodes, and you being out there on your own. You will be okay, I promise. It’s awful to come back and feel so down, and I’m so glad you have great tutors and they have been so kind to you. Appreciate them.

Take care of yourself. The human body is actually really easy to trick. If you find a system that your body starts to recognize, like a specific tea you only drink right before bed, or a specific playlist that you play right before bed, you’ll find your sleep habits getting much better over time.

Once you’re back in the swing of things, make sure you keep taking time for you. At least thirty minutes a day, where you just center yourself during the crazy times. Hopefully it will help you, just having this connection.

Start branching out. I went on a crazy mission to find bathroom stall girl and apologize to her. I managed to find her, and we were quite close until she graduated. These college friends are so important. They’re going to see you at your rawest points, as you shed the skin you had before and start moving forward. They’re going to see you through internship applications, relationships, and a myriad of crazy, heart racing situations.

They’ll also bring you so many connections in life. If your goal is to marry rich and you’re at a prestigious university, I promise you, those friends will be the keys to the kingdom. That’s how you set yourself up for a hypergamous life when you’re in uni. Have them introduce you around, become part of a larger circle of affluent people.

Much love darling. 💛

[gguktarts]

decathect | jjk (1)

1. to withdraw one’s feelings of attachment from (a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss

summary: if one thing was clear to you when you first met Jeon Jungkook, it was that he would never love you. at least, not the way you wanted him to.

pairing: jjk x reader genre: unrequited love au? || angst || little fluff if u Squint || drabble series word count: 2.7k parts:  1 / ? | next » cw: uhh kinda unhealthy depictions of a crush, & jk is a fuckboy w lots of tatts and long hair so that deserves a warning on its Own i say

note: so,,, this was supposed to be a short fic bc i wanted my heart broken but it turned into a drabble series……………….we’ll see how that goes!!! rip

You’ve heard of him from your friends, and from their friends: about the infamous Jeon Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. He’s, first and foremost, an art major — and an excelling one at that. In the short three years he’s been an undergrad, his work has been featured, so far, in a total of 4 major art exhibitions. His displayed work apparently sells rather quickly, too, which surely earns him more than enough money to successfully continue his various artistic endeavors and out-of-uni activities. You’ve heard he’s also into tattoos, boxing, and photography on the side, for example. Whether it was true or not was not something you focused on, but considering his friends were they ones telling the tales, you didn’t doubt it. Not that you thought of it often, or at all, really.

What you did question was why exactly he felt the need to stop by Taehyung’s very own, very private, and very expensive Goghrik’s Vancrylics paint collection to use instead of his own. You didn’t want to think him as cheap because, quite frankly, you knew nothing more than those whispered rumors and offhanded comments Jimin and Yoongi perpetrated on occasion. So, you settled for thinking nothing until you could get concrete answers. 

For a long time Jungkook remained a simple ghost, until finally one day he just existed. Everywhere, and then, always. As if meeting him once meant he’d open the door to your home to welcome himself as an indefinite guest, you suddenly had no week free of his presence or his trace. Like a growing avalanche you learned about him with repeated increase, sometimes by choice, and sometimes by mere coincidence. Maybe it was pure coincidence, too, how you came to fall for him — for Jeon Jungkook, the artist, the fuckboy. With time though, you came to a different understanding.

Liking Jungkook was no coincidence.  It was a curse – a long, and tediously everlasting hex you’d so far failed to get rid of.  

And it all started, you begrudgingly admit sometimes, with some paint and very little luck.

Being in one of the most prestigious Universities in the country naturally means you consistently face the demon of a huge – nay, an enormous campus. A wide lake rests between dispersed buildings while Hi-Q food marts border each cluster of separate dorms, connected all entirely by desire paths and concrete roads. It's no surprise then that a map is the standard gift given to all entrance students, though by now you’ve memorized practically all zones you inhabit (i.e. the Natural Sciences’ Atrium, the Physics Department, and your own dorm). Most people still use theirs, along with the mandatory transportation fare card Admissions urges all newcomers to get. More than anything it’s a must-have for anyone who wants to actually make it on time to class — more so when they’re not blessed with taking courses on a near-by group of Departments.

And it just so happened you’re amongst those ill-fated few.

For four years now you’ve been a resident of Dorm C, exactly the furthest of the dorms from the NS Atrium. Instead you’re — uselessly — at a walking distance from the Plastic Arts department, a place you’ve ventured to for only a single semester back in your second year. Back then you had decided that taking Pottery was a great way to fill in some of your electives, an idea which mostly Taehyung, an art major himself, cemented in your head. You remember nothing of your treks to the department, nor of the lessons you received, but your memory often recalls it happened whenever you visit him. Your final project, a 2-piece set of misshapen cups of tea, still rests atop one of his many bookshelves to this day. Taehyung calls them “endearing”, something about them “truly reflecting a purpose beyond what their ‘perfect brethren’ are subjected to”. Which, really, is code for “they could be used as mugs, but I like them better as vases for Namjoon’s succulents,” and you’re okay with that.

Namjoon, an English Lit major, is Tae’s roommate and the other occupant of their two-bedroom flat. As luck would have it they stay on the floor above your own, right atop your much smaller and much lonelier dorm room. It’s actually one of the shared excuses you all use for your constant visits.

Half of the time you spend on their flat includes being tucked away on their couch, reading astronomy journals or watching documentaries Joon frequently sits through alongside you, or sleeping under Tae’s covers simply because he enjoys the company and can’t seem to sleep otherwise. The rest of the time the boys, sometimes with you in tow on an off day, migrate to Jimin and Yoongi’s shared flat in Dorm D. They share their space with Jungkook, if Yoongi’s complaints about late-night water-fests were anything to go by, though you’ve never seen him there.

No, ironically, the first time you crossed paths with him was in the lobby of Dorm C — your dorm. You remember he was shifting and wandering around like a lost puppy, his eyes restlessly searching for something or someone. It was him, you knew, because he’s often featured in your shared friend’s Instagram posts, and because he’s very hard to miss.

He was — is big, towering over you easily, and was then dressed all in black. A mix of comfy and effortlessly put together in perfect execution, the rolled-up sleeves of his sweater did nothing to hide the ink covering his veiny forearms. You were instantly thankful — you’ve always been drawn to tattoos. They’re admirable on others and on yourself, and you instantly had to push down the desire to keep marking your body for reasons only pertinent to the feeling of the needle on your skin or the aesthetics of the design. Your poor ass couldn’t afford another so soon, anyway.

The other thing that gave him away was his signature dark hair, long and parted in the middle to fall over his round, soft eyes. It covered his multiple piercings but did nothing to take away from the sweet persona that settled over him. Despite the dark and the goth, he seemed… cute. Very cute, and very confused. The way his eyebrows furrowed at his phone screen just before he searched through the scattered students was a dead giveaway. He was likely lost, but that wasn’t very surprising. For all the time Tae and Joon spend on Dorm D, the same couldn’t be said otherwise. Visits to Dorm C were seldom for the rest.

And a lost Jungkook… wasn’t your problem. A simple look at his boyish features was enough to ignite some sort of weird somersaults in your chest, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it and run far away. So, you tried.

Blinking away the staring he had thankfully not noticed, you made for your own room as embarrassment coursed through your jittery limbs.

You didn’t make it very far before your plan backfired. You had to go near him to reach the elevator, and it apparently didn’t matter that you were practically hiding inside your bag, your hand rummaging through it for your room cardkey.

“Hey—uh, Y/N right?” you heard, and your body froze.

A look up, and there he was. Jeon Jungkook, calling your name. It was weird hearing your mesh of letters on his tongue, foreign to his palette yet pronounced to perfection. Equally confused as he looked before, and even further more embarrassed (you couldn’t help but think, amongst all the chaos in your mind, that his voice was ridiculously soothing and fitting for his physicality), your throat only let out a very intellectual “huh?”

“Um,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide, his head cocked to the side at your reaction. His feet shifted under him, and you tried ignoring the way his cheeks grew a lovely shade of pink when he spoke again.

“I’m Jungkook, and hyung—Taehyung mentioned you before. He isn’t answering and I’m a bit lost, so I was wondering if you could give me directions? Unless you’re not… Y/N?”

You’re often a recurrent character in Tae’s stories, so it shouldn’t have surprised you he’s spoken of you before. But it did.

“I am Y/N,” you relented, maybe a bit more bitterly than you intended. You couldn’t help but pout at the sudden reminder of Tae’s love for recording you during your most… inopportune moments. “Where is it you want to go?”

The boy in question rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a bunny-like smile making a sudden appearance. His teeth seemed to jut out a bit, and his upper lip disappeared almost entirely, but you were sure of one thing instantly: his smile was the prettiest one you’d ever seen.

You felt your chest constrict at the sight without any sense of permission, your ears going up in flames. Clearly, you were bonkers. You continued your walk towards the elevator, praying he’d keep up somewhere a bit farther from you.  But he followed without question, easily settling besides you and offering glances from the corner of his eye. You pressed the up button and pretended not to notice, playing around with your cardkey while you both waited.

“To hyung’s dorm — I haven’t ever been there, as strange as it sounds, and I need to borrow some paint.”

“Borrow some paint?” you hummed, the notion seeming somewhat silly to you. “After you’ve used it you can’t return it, so would it really be borrowing?”

You moved to look at him questioningly, curiosity getting the best of you, and the feeling you were hit with was far too paralyzing for you to carry. It was a sudden storm of affection, a wave of currents that spread and tightened, tickling and burning your stomach each second you saw his crinkled eyes, his teeth fully bared into a humorous grin. It made your feet stick to the ground even after the doors of the elevator greeted you open.

“You’re a weird one aren’t you?” he muttered airily, more to himself than anything, before shrugging and prompting you to follow him inside the confined space. “Technically, you’re right, but saying I’m borrowing stuff sounds nicer, doesn’t it? It’s all about semantics. Don’t worry though, hyung lets me take some of his whenever I run out.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you said much after that, but you did take him all the way to Tae’s and Joon’s front door. He thanked you softly before you left, with a smile sincere and gentle in ways you hadn’t expected. You remember nodding along and, possibly, wishing him good luck on his art project, but you weren’t sure by the time you reached your room.

You remember skipping your assignments that night, choosing instead a hot shower and the comforts of your recently cleaned bed. It was the first attempt at forgetting the whole event, a new mission for your mind to complete before a crush settled its anchor.

You were used to six handsome guys. You drew the line at seven.

Meeting Jungkook for the first time was disastrous for the days that followed. Maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it was rightfully warranted. Your brain had vaguely memorized what he looked like outside of pictures, and now you saw him everywhere. It was the frequency bias all over again, and it had no escape, just like that one time you wanted to dye your hair and suddenly half the population seemed to be dying it that very color. Similarly, interacting with Jungkook meant noticing him in your peripheral when he wasn’t front and center, knowing it was him in the distance. It only worsened when your paths began to regularly cross.

It happened and continuous to happen mostly in the presence of Tae or Joon, or any of Jungkook’s roommates. 

Whenever you’d spend some time on the couch with Joon, he was there. Whenever you woke up midday and decide it was high time to cook brunch for three (four then), he was already there. When Yoongi invited you over to hear some of the pieces he’s been working on, Jungkook was miraculously in the apartment. Oh, you wanted to steal some of Tae’s shirts? Jungkook catches you red handed, some stolen paints of his own right in his treacherous hold.

It’s absolutely maddening.

You wouldn’t mind it so much if it weren’t for the fact that each new stare, each new smile, leaves your stomach in complete shambles.

Who could take you back to the time when you hadn’t heard his loud laugh? To when he hadn’t seen you loafing around in your onesie after a killer test and stayed to comfort you? He even called you cute, shared some of his milk and made sure to leave only after he’d seen you smile. Sometimes he’d even notice you watch your documentaries only to pop a random question about space, or even about the science behind Star Trek or Star Wars when “Clearly FTL travel isn’t possible?” (To which you’d answer: “Not yet it isn’t, you non-believer”) before falling quiet and leaving you be. They were small conversations with no more than 3 lines exchanged, but they were more than enough for the butterflies seeping through your ribcage to go on a frenzy.

And despite everything you heard and everything you began to know, Jungkook was possibly the softest, sweetest, and most annoying person you knew. At least superficially. 

You still knew nothing personal about him, with your interactions being limited to shared spaces, but you didn’t think much of it until you began to see all kinds of things: his cute habits, his quirks, and even the way his tattoo collection grows.

You’ve silently noticed the way he wiggles his toes when he sits to watch a series, how he blinks a lot when he’s confused. You’ve seen the way he scratches the back of his head when he’s not confident about something, and how his eyes smile before his lips do, and the way his laugh resonates all around the room in the most euphoric melodies. All of this you come to know as unequivocally Jungkook. And you know, you know you’re so whipped for him that you can’t stop being in-tuned with it, with his little things.

But you’re also aware of your situation, and it doesn’t surprise you when your chest starts to hurt over it — over him, because you see his other things: the way each week curls a different girl around his waist, the way his eyes turn cold when he says he doesn’t do relationships, and the way he looks at you.

It’s never with disgust or anything of the sort. It’s just that you’ve seen the way he looks at the girls he fucks with, the girls he finds attractive, the girls he likes for a single night to then discard them.

And he’s never looked at you like that. You suppose that’s good, but... then again, you guess it means you’re nothing. After all, Jeon Jungkook never offers you any hope, he never shows any interest. Technically you’re not even his friend — not really. You’re Taehyung’s other best friend, an outside addition to his usual friend group, and now to his life. You’re okay with that, you have to be. You haven’t sought him out, haven’t done anything to close the gap between you. Water and care is something you never wanted to give your unjustified feelings. You never wanted them to grow, even now.

You just failed to take note of the rain pouring over the earth and pooling beneath your feet, and you don’t notice you’re drowning until you see him at the end of the day.

The girl attached to him is a stranger to you, just like the rest you’ve seen, yet you can’t seem to shake the thought that something must be different. Whatever she has seems to be enough for the tattooed man to shatter his distaste for PDA, at least for the time being.

Your legs hesitate to unceremoniously halt in the middle of the hall. Your eyes battle not to widen and not to stare, for a second desperate to make sure that what you’re seeing is real, that you’re seeing Jungkook kiss for the first time in forever as if you hadn’t known all this time that he fucks and loves behind closed doors. 

And it doesn’t matter that the kiss isn’t gentle, that he’s kissing her as if she were the very air he needed to breathe. No, what makes you sick is how he notices, how he sees you, and how he does nothing but pull her closer in response.

You push yourself to move as soon as his eyes drift away again, unwilling to tremble before him and unwilling to make any more mistakes.

Class would have to wait. You needed coffee, even if it meant being late. And you absolutely hate being late to Astrophysics, but you definitely hated seeing him more.

[memorylang]

Easter: Redwoods, Light | #52 | April 2021

I write from Vegas, having returned after spending most of this spring in Reno. Life has been well. I feel adjusted to being back in the States a year. Every so often, objects and settings still remind me of last year’s evacuation from Mongolia. I still have the interest I’d had in trying to improve the lives of those around me. I still plan to return to Mongolia as soon as pandemic conditions permit.

This month’s blog story reminds me of cycles. Attending a virtual Open Mic Night at the conclusion to this month's “Culture of Creativity Workshops” featuring overseas alumni, I felt called to tell our folks there about this very blog story that I hadn't yet finished. A fellow participant suggested my theme of cycles. I'd spoken of how events that happen throughout time, how our feelings come and go. So here it is—My Easter 2O2I tales of cycles, light and renewal!

Back to Vegas

I returned to Vegas tasked by my father to continue to sort my belongings, tend to the yard and help my older brother and his girlfriend clean the kitchen since their recent move back to the house. Early in March, I’d visited the house with my siblings, and I’d intended originally to spend Holy Week here, too. But my college parish had many functions, including a friend’s baptism, Knights’ service events and opportunities for me to continue to help with the recordings of Sunday Proclamations of the Word. Palm Sunday’s and Good Friday’s were special highlights. Anyway, I'd opted to stay in Reno for Lent’s remainder into Easter’s first weeks.

Easter in Reno

Being in Reno for most of this April instead of in Vegas like last year, I enjoyed seeing trees blossom. A highlight of this Easter season has been its many serendipitous moments. This is also noteworthy because I'd listened to the "Tao of Pooh,” which noted spontaneity as among the good spiritual life’s fruits. A spiritual director had told me something similar not long before I'd graduated college.

Days before Easter Sunday itself (U.S. Year 2, Week 5; April 2–8, 2O2I), I enjoyed getting the opportunity to lector at that Mass. It was a small Mass, but I felt glad to be in person for the greatest celebration of the Christian year since all had shut down last year. Later this Easter Octave, I’d gotten to both lector and serve at a family's confirmation Mass. That too felt lovely.

Serendipity hadn’t stopped there! I’d caught up with an ol’ friend at Rancho San Rafael Park not far from the Uni and later biked with another friend at North Valleys Regional. My bike itself I’d bought from a rummage sale the day before on an unexpected adventure in a U-Haul truck to help our student coordinators collect furniture in the morning after they’d asked whoever could help. Thus, that Wednesday night they’d requested help, Thursday morning I’d joined them to Gardnerville and the rectory, and Friday night I was biking with a friend. The last time I recall riding in a U-Haul was over a dozen years ago when I was 11, my family moved from Indiana to Vegas.

My youngest sister has also been encouraging me to practice my licensed driving by borrowing her vehicle to and from our parish. I’d visited so often that staff offered me a key to simplify visits to my "home away from home away from home." I’d felt touched because I could go on walks around our pretty campus without worrying about getting locked out when I was alone. The flexibility gave me peace recently on my U.S. Year 2, Week 8 (April 23–29, 2O2I), when midday I’d needed to drop by my Honors College alma mater’s office to help print a letter I’d written to graduating seniors for our Honors Alumni Task Force.

Also at church, I’d gotten to participate in a few of our Alpha sessions hosted by a diaconate candidate whom I’d interviewed back in 2OI8 on my diocesan public relations internship. I'd heard about Alpha first back in Mongolia from a kind Evangelical Mongol. Anyway, the diaconate candidate, student coordinators and Alpha participants have been great conversation partners.

Beyond these, our pastor had driven me to my first Pfizer vaccine dose, lent me films and advised my reading! On one occasion, he even let me bring Holy Communion to a friend of mine. Such activities have kept me from feeling too distressed amid research writing and revisions. Parish support has made my “happy contentment” quest kinder.

Redwoods National and State Parks

This year’s Easter Octave concluded for me with another trip with my national parks friends (U.S. Year 2, Week 6; April 9–I5, 2O2I). This trip, I’d anticipated especially. As a young lad in Indiana, I’d felt mesmerized by the photos of massively tall California trees noted in our science textbooks. Thus, from an early age, Redwoods imprinted themselves in me.

At these national and state parks, epic scenery of old-growth forests, mountainous hills and valleys beside the coast astounded me. I hadn’t seen the Pacific Ocean since January 2O2O when I’d flown back to Mongolia from Vegas via San Francisco. I felt surprised by how many months had passed since my last overseas adventure.

At the loop completing the Tall Trees Grove trail, I found a special place. My peers had gone ahead while I stayed behind to take photos, record videos and capture audio. I hadn’t expected to find at the trail’s end a creek filled with still other trees—vast ones, like those that I’d seen in subtropical Asia but different.

I basked in these trees. While taking photos, I also discovered my phone has a virtual reality setting. I tried it out, remembering undergrad extra credit VR photography projects. I’d wanted to journal at least something.

“Daniel!” my peers called from some distance down the path. I couldn’t see them, but their voices echoed well enough. I called back something to the effect of, “I’m here!” I still wanted to get a good fill of this park. Here’s what I journaled:

[11:45 a.m.] Redwood, National Park, end of Tall Tree Grove along the creek zone is this phenomenal section of mossy trees with winding branches. Here I discovered my VR. [A woman paused, passing me, “You must be Daniel.”] 19IO–I96O, so many of these trees that used to be across Humboldt, Eureka, Arcata were cut down. The smells… the scents, the mosses, the ferns, the light. Beyond.

Mid-journaling, I paused because a mid-aged woman who was passing by smiled and acknowledged that I must be the "Daniel" she'd overheard about. I smiled yes and reveled in the gorgeousness that surrounded us. She affirmed and mused how this park’s name should be changed like, “Redwoods and Other Trees and Lose-Your-Brother-in-the-Forest National Park.” She added how in the early half of last century, these very types of trees once blanketed far more Northern California, across the very counties through which my friends and I traveled to get here.

I later journaled again after sprinting much of the uphill trail back to my friends. We then saw the “Lady Bird” Johnson trail, then a confluence of the Klamath River and Pacific Ocean (where there were seals!) and finally Trillium Falls. I’d written this about the final hike:

So hypnotic. [...] Dodona’s Grove* vibes from the Trillium hike after the Falls. Whispers from God. Endlessness.

*The Grove of Dodona is a prophetic forest from “The Hidden Oracle,” a book to which I’d listened amid the pandemic by an author I used to read in junior high and high school, Rick Riordan. While I wasn’t a huge fan of where he’d taken “The Heroes of Olympus” series’ finale, I'd often admired his picturesque locales.

My peers and I left the park by 6:45 p.m. The view from the road on which we departed reminded me of the bamboo forest in 安吉 Ānjí near 杭州 Hángzhōu. I’d seen it in 2OI7 during my first summer overseas and have rarely found comparable places.

Of Redwoods, I journaled too of how gleeful I’d felt to have hugged so many trees. A friend had complimented my writing when he mentioned that I don’t need to take so many photos. I added how photos help me remember what to write. I'll probably share my Redwoods photoset in May.

A carpet of moist, fallen leaves along the paved trails had reminded me of a Sunday morning path that my dad would take my siblings and me through for years at Spring Mill State Park in Mitchell, Ind.

Spring Retreat: Recognizing God’s Light

Beyond Redwoods, I'd stayed behind in Reno chiefly to participate in my college parish's Spring Retreat. This spring the student coordinators held it in Gardnerville, the same location where I'd enjoyed it my senior spring. However, I'd had to leave early from it that year. It was my first and only of the eight semesterly retreats from which I'd left early.

That year, I'd left in order to co-emcee the Diocesan Youth Rally 2OI9. To my surprise, the youngest member on this year’s student coordinator team was likely at that same event when she was a high school student. Similarities like these gladdened me.

I felt renewed. This year’s theme, "Light in the Darkness" (Spring 2O2I), reminded me of "Ignite the Light," (Spring 2OI8), the year after my mother died. This time, however, I’d had more years to reflect and feel greater peace. Similarly, I've felt more peace being back in the States even though I'd prefer to be abroad. God’s light shines every day, in every moment of every person. I can see it.

Writing of seeing things, I’d also seen "WandaVision" and "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" while up in Reno. I’d reconnected too with a Disney-loving college friend to get more Disney+ watchlist ideas. I’d seriously enjoyed the “Into the Unknown: Making Frozen II” docuseries. Both she and my college pastor led me to witness iconic performances by Julie Andrews in both "The Sound of Music" and "Mary Poppins."

Justice

April felt refreshing for a more challenging reason as well. Much of the month had featured on many channels coverage from the trial over the killing of George Floyd. I imagined that this would be a trial that my generation remembers for years.

I’d watched live various testimonies and even the closing arguments. Then, on that Tuesday, April 2O, 2O2I, afternoon, our nation heard the verdict—My pastor called it among the fastest traveling news.

I've been on the Social Justice Task Force of the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality since last summer. Our Task Force had come together in response to the killing of George Floyd and subsequent renewed pushes across our nation for social justice.

Our task force has been meeting every other Tuesday night, after weekly fed Zoom fatigue. Our meeting that Tuesday fell on the night of the guilty verdict. But, this justice felt cathartic only somewhat. More shootings filled the media. Our task was far from over.

Still, I’d another reason to celebrate. That Tuesday marked my last advocacy meeting on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association to offices of Nevada’s lawmakers this March–April. All told, I’d coordinated and met virtually with offices of the U.S. Congresspeople Horsford, Titus and Lee as well as Senator Rosen. And Representative Titus herself attended our meeting! She was very kind. So, I felt relieved to have finished those duties for now.

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Next month (May) begins Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I've decided to tell a #StopAsianHate story. Given America's centuries of racism toward Asians, I don't enjoy the subject. But, I’d had an experience on my Week 5I (Feb. 19–25, 2O2I). It reminded me the importance of continuing to tell stories so that we can promote diversity and inclusion.

I was on one of my Reno walks that cold winter. As usual, I'd pass by the local elementary school. I'd paused to check my phone. The time was while children were at recess. They played opposite a chain-link fence a few yards down a hill from where I stood.

At first, I didn't think that the kids were talking to me. So, I paid them little attention. Then their voices sounded closer, in greater numbers.

I hadn't decided whether to acknowledge the children but decided to finish my walk. My walk brought me along the fence. From my right periphery, I saw a clump of children gathering, following. They certainly addressed me.

I heard what sounded like slurs against Asians that I won't repeat here but also questions that I will repeat here.

The kids asked if I was homeless, whether I'm an orphan, whether I speak English. I reflected on these. I was wearing a big scarf from Mongolia, a hefty hand-me-down winter coat and wide, secondhand jeans, frayed at my ankles. But I hadn't spoken a word to the kids.

Their questions themselves weren't offensive. Yet, the children’s tones reminded me of the mocking ones I'd heard in middle school when boys made fun of me for caring more about good grades than getting girlfriends. (Little did the boys know, girls I liked tended toward good grades.)

Anyway, these kids seemed to have negative implications behind positive responses to their questions. This upset me. After all, homelessness, being an orphan and not knowing English are not inherently bad things. For, often, people do not choose to go without a home, parents or American English. So why might these children ask these degradingly?

I felt perturbed by the realization that these children would find pleasure in mocking people who they suspect are without homes, parents or English skills. Yet, from this, I felt a glimmer of solidarity. I'd heard directed toward me what seemed unkind speech. This may help me relate to Asians who hear slurs, to those without homes, to those without parents and to those perhaps struggling with English.

My parents tend to insist too that I buy new clothes, though. Given our world's rampant consumerism, I find second-hand ones quite fine. "Form follows function." I wish that more folks would appreciate hand-me-downs and thrifting.

Nuance

Curiously, as I continued past this chain-link fence, a somewhat pudgy boy of color asked with a wide grin for money for Taco Bell. Truthfully, I didn't have money on me. I calmly answered the questions, not pausing from my walk. I guessed the kids dismissed the homeless guess/joke. I noticed thankfully that they wore face masks. We’re still in a pandemic, after all.

The boy's questions made me wonder about his family life. True, he could have been joking. But I remembered, many of the boys who'd picked on me in middle school had been living in a neighborhood that many people called not a “good” part of town.

In light of the visibility that Black Lives Matter has had in the past year, I've tried to grow more aware of how cruel predominantly White societies can be toward Black, indigenous and other peoples of color. I recalled learning when I was little that, often those who bully had been bullied themselves. Sociology interests me.

Thus, when these playground children said potentially questionable things to me, I wasn't sure whether to intervene about the slurs or micro-aggressions or what I'd say.

As I neared the fence’s edge to complete my pass by the school, I overheard a girl's or maybe a woman's voice call the kids to stop wasting their free time. I'm glad that someone spoke up. Compassion is the answer, especially in light of hurtful things.

I’m still unsure whether my general silence was helpful or problematic. But the experience caused me to think. For, children learn fast. Innocence is invaluable. My generation's problems and those of that above ours replicate in youths the longer we fail to act.

I’m glad that folks are speaking up these days in hopes to #StopAsianHate. Social justice mustn't sleep.

Language Six

On April 2O2I’s last day, I hit my 365-day streak on Duolingo!

Over the past year, I’d focused on Latin, Spanish and Chinese. Having finished every lesson and level Duolingo had for Latin, I started dabbling in German. While I’ve no intention to extensively pursue German (yet, at least), I’ve enjoyed how its lessons help me see from where many non-Latin roots reach English.

I’ve been dipping into my Germanic heritage on Dad’s side again lately. This began about when I’d seen “The Sound of Music” then reconnected with my distant relative who’s researched more of our shared Austrian and Volga German forefathers and mothers. Turns out that my relative had personally written to and received a postcard from the real Maria von Trapp!

I've grown to like more German language. "The Sound of Music" and how Spotify has Disney soundtracks in German help. Besides listening to vocalists like Namika, I’ve also gotten into LEA, Manuel Straube, Julia Scheeser and even Willemijn Verkaik! This is probably just a phase, but it’s certainly fun.

Every language I’ve sought to learn has at least one Spotify playlist. For recent films I’ve seen, like "Mary Poppins" and "Mary Poppins Returns," I’ve cherry-picked tracks in German, Spanish and English. Though I don’t catch most words, I like to consider translators’ decision-making.

Summer Fun

I get my second Pfizer dose on Cinco de Mayo. By then, I hope to have channeled my Julie Andrews-inspired service of making things better than how I've found them. Later that vaccine week, on Mother’s Day, I’ll return to Reno with Tita and Papa.

May 14 will celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from undergrad. Then comes the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister and will also mark when I’m fully inoculated, May 19! Pentecost comes May 23. Then will be May 3O, the wedding of two of my undergrad coworkers, including a fraternity brother. We'll have a mini staff and fraternal reunion!

After that, I look forward most to a Seattle trip at my 24th birthday. National parks friends and I are flying up to see Olympic National Park. It’ll be my first time to see further into the Pacific Northwest than Ashland, Ore. My younger (not youngest) sister got a job in Seattle, so I’ll be surfing her couch for part of my visit. Super stoked to reconnect with friends from high school, college and Peace Corps in the city! Even my married friends with whom I'd spent New Year's Eve the past couple years plan to visit me there.

This April my siblings and I reviewed our first scholarship applications for a Foundation that we’d founded to honor our late mother, who was Chinese. So, with next month and the fourth anniversary of her passing, I’ll share Foundation experiences, I think. Along with those, graduations and celebrations await!

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[bananxjin]

Trophy Wife || 2

↦ Coworker!Seokjin x Reader

↦ WC: 8,282

↦ Drama || Angst || Fluff || Slow Burn

↦ Trigger Warnings: Light depictions of smut, drinking

↦ Summary: You thought you knew what you wanted -- You were sure you knew what you wanted. You thought the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage with your fiance, Touru Kim; the love of your life, the future father of your children, and the man of your dreams, but things happen. Events begin to unfold, and the relationship falls apart. You see the true colors of your husband-to-be, and you realize that maybe he’s not what you built him up to be. With everything laid out in front of you, you knew the be-all and end-all was a loving, domestic marriage.

Just not with Touru.

✨ Masterlist ✨

It became easy to separate your work life from your personal life. You were starting to build some solid relationships with your coworkers. Seulgi and Irene all but begged you to go to happy hour with them sometime, and Namjoon had become a bit of an older brother to you. Not in a way where he looks out for you (Although he does that as well), but more so like when he’s not busy being customer service manager, he’s giving you shit and cracking jokes. It was in some way a relief to you. A relief from the stress you knew you’d have to go home to. A relief that you were actually able to get along with your coworkers. Work became a safe and happy environment for you.

Even Seokjin -- with his cringey dad jokes and doing dorky little dances anytime a good song would come on -- Had started to grow on you. Oh, were you thankful for Seokjin. Even though most of your job came to you easily, there were still thing’s you had a hard time learning and projects you knew you wouldn’t get through on your own, and that’s where Seokjin became somewhat of a blessing, always finding the time and patience to help you where he could.

You quickly learned Seulgi was the last person to go to because although she was a wonderful manager, she had her ways about her. Particularly being like that mother that says, “If I find it, I’m going to beat your ass when I get home.”

Kyla was the first person you’d like to ask, but Kyla was in her final year of high school, so all too often, you’d end up being scheduled to work with Seokjin instead. You were hesitant to ask for his help. Of course you were hesitant. Something about him didn’t sit right with you to begin with, and his very presence in your life left a mark on your relationship. Once you got past all of that though, you found that Seokjin was actually a very nice, very genuine man.

He didn’t act any sort of way that made you uncomfortable. He wasn’t rude when you’d make mistakes, and oh boy did you make mistakes. He was just… Seokjin. So plainly and unabashedly Seokjin. He made small talk with you, asking about your home life and your parents, things like that. You were pretty vague when it came to your family, but he didn’t pry, instead telling you, “I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself.” With that dumb smile he always offered you.

Then he started telling you stories of his friends. Like how he and his old college roommates, Yoongi and Hobi took a road trip, and somehow they ended up leaving Hobi at the truck stop, and they didn’t even realize it until he called them yelling about how they’d left him behind! Or how he knew Namjoon from undergrad, and he actually helped Seokjin get this job. “He really ended up saving my ass, too.” Seokjin breathed as he stacked the last two boxes of whatever you’d been hauling onto the highest shelf.

“I’m working on my masters right now, and my job at uni ended up falling through, so I was like… Legitimately fucked for a minute.” He laughed. “But we ran in similar social circles, and we started talking. He told me how our store needed a new mens lead, and now…” He raised his arms before letting them fall back at his sides, “Here I am!” He giggled.

You smiled, “That’s great, honestly! I’m so happy for you!" You beamed, “But wow, mens lead. And yet you’re always so quick to help Kyla and me in other departments. I don’t know, it seems like you’d be too busy for that.”

He shrugged, “I mean it’s mostly on Tuesdays and Sundays I’m super busy, but you really don’t have to worry about that. We’re coworkers, and I’m more than happy to help where I’m needed!” He explained, a big smile and his one dimple poking through. The works, really. “Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for help.”

Something about that -- His look, the sincerity in his voice, and the fact that you’d quickly realized you two were alone in the stockroom -- The very thing causing tension between you and Touru. It made your heart leap. You caught yourself smiling, and all too quickly were you ready to jump back into work mode.

“Well, I’ve got other things to do now, but thanks again!” And with that, you’d dashed off.

Now here you were. Still in the midst of an argument with your fiance, and after giving Seokjin the cold shoulder for, what? Two weeks now? You’d probably just lost one of your best friends as well.

__

It was with heavy feet that you carried yourself down the stairwell and into the family living area. It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Natural sunlight flooded your house. You hoped that would help set the mood a little bit. Dressed in your lilac silk robe and white lingerie underneath, you were ready to do anything to end this extended feud with Touru.

Not that getting fucked by Touru was a bad thing, but you hated ending arguments this way. You felt like you were giving up. Not only would he deem himself right, but he was also getting rewarded for it, so what does that leave for you? You tried not to think too much about it. It’s whatever, right? It’s not like arguments ended this way very often, so engaging in this ‘fuck and forget’ thing isn’t inherently bad. Right?

You leaned your body weight into the archway leading into the living room, gazing at your fiance with docile bedroom eyes, just waiting for him to look up from his tablet. You knew he was busy getting numbers ready for the end of the third quarter and all, but you knew -- Rather, you hoped in this special circumstance, he’d make some time for you.

“Oh, Touru…” You called out in a soft, sensual tone. You didn’t quite break his focus, but you did catch his attention. The hard lines in his face softened at your beckon call. He lifted his head the slightest bit in curiosity, letting out of a soft “Hm?” but his eyes never strayed from his screen.

Your fingers fiddled with the loose knot holding your robe together as you flirted with the idea of being a tease or just letting him have it all. “I know these last two weeks have been kind of rough on us, and I'm sorry. I was sorta hoping I could make it up to you?”

He’d allow his gaze to slowly trail up your body just as the knot had come undone. The white lace underwear a stark contrast against your skin glowing underneath the sunlight, and the bra while sexy remained just modest enough to cover what was really important.

You couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze, longing to take back what’s always been his. He laid his tablet on the glass coffee table as he rose to his feet. He managed to unravel his tie in the few steps it took for him to hold you in his arms again. It felt good having his lips on yours, and his warm hands grasping at your waist, pulling your body against his.

“I’ve missed you.” He murmured against your lips, “I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry things haven’t been easy lately, but I think we’ll be able to make up for our lost time this morning.” He kissed down your jaw and the side of your neck. You couldn’t help the smile when the soft timbre of his voice tickled your skin.

And yet, something felt out of place.

You forced yourself to focus on him. The hickey he was sucking into the hollow of your throat, or the way his fingers grasped at the back of your knee to pull it around his waist, pinning you against the archway in a submissive manner…

But your mind was elsewhere.

He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs securely around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom, whispering something about how good he’s going to make you feel, but you barely heard him. You choked on your own voice as his teeth grazed the new bruise blossoming in your skin. You thread your fingers through his blond hair, willing yourself not to speak for fear of what you might say.

Your back hit the mattress, the robe fell away from your skin as his warm lips descended down your chest and tummy. Soft whispers of ‘I love you’ over and over like he was reciting a mantra to you and only you, but your heart wasn’t in it this time. You screwed your eyes shut, willing yourself into the moment, but all you could see were lips. Those pink, pillow soft lips stretched into that million dollar smile.

You forced your eyes open, but they were soon falling shut once again as lips descended unto the one place you needed him most. Your voice betrayed you, moaning out in a raspy tone like you hadn’t used it in months. Your toes curled in, fingers finding Touru’s hair again.

Yes, this was it. Your body was finally starting to relax. This was exactly what you needed, and it felt good. It felt so good to have your fiance back. “Touru, Touru please…”

You wondered if his dimple was visible when he was going down on you like this. Even if it’s not, you’ll get to see it in his bright smile when he comes back up. Big smile on his face and covered in a thin sheen of sweat and your essence. Until you remembered...

Touru doesn’t have any dimples.

__

You didn’t get to orgasm. Although, Touru doesn’t need to know that.

Touru…

How unfair of you. To lay there and let him pleasure you to your heart's desire while you think about another man. It’s not even like you wanted him to be there! And you tried! You tried really hard to force his image out of your head, but he’s so intrusive! Everything about him from his broad shoulders to his stupid laugh. Sure he’s attractive, but he’s so full of himself. Not to mention, he’s not the man you’re in love with.

With Touru snoozing beside you, you’d decide you were safe to slip back into your robe and escape to the bathroom to clean yourself up, and maybe cry a little bit. You couldn’t figure it out, you’d barely even spoken to the man after his little ‘play money’ comment. Or calling your fiance a rich daddy’s boy. He’s so disrespectful and has no consideration for how you feel, and yet…

You gripped the edges of the sink as the tears began to flow. Maybe all of this was just because part of you was still mad at Touru. He had started the fight after all, and over Seokjin no less. Maybe subconsciously, you felt guilty for silently admitting to Touru he’s right to dislike your coworker when you knew Seokjin was a fairly decent guy. Certainly not someone Touru needed to worry about.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Whatever this was, it was a one time thing, you reminded yourself. You made quick work of cleaning your face, going the extra mile to ensure there were no traces of tears or guilt.

You tiptoed into the room to find Touru already awake and sitting up on the bed reading something on his phone. Smiling, you crawled over the bed on your knees and wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders, “Hey you,” you giggled, pressing your lips into his neck. “Whatcha reading?”

He hummed, “Just texting my dad. They’re planning for a company dinner in the next couple weeks. Apparently there’s an independent loan service just out of town who’s about to go under.” He explained in a monotone voice, “Dad’s making reservations now, and we’ll discuss buying their company and taking their workers under our wing.”

“So you’re gonna be busier than ever when all of this comes to a head?”

“Pretty much.” He sighed, nudging you off him so he could stand into a stretch. He started picking his clothes up off the floor. “I’ll be the one making preparations to introduce new people into our systems, setting them up for training, maybe outsourcing them where we need them more.” He went on as if he’s explained it one hundred other times. It was rare Kim Co. Loans bought out other companies, but once it happened, it meant yours and Touru’s life had to be put on hold. It was something you fully expected — Anytime it came to the company or his family, you were expected to adapt your everyday life around them.

“Do you know when all this is gonna start?” You asked casually, “You know we're supposed to go look at like, three different venues in November, right?”

“I know.” He sighed like he’s heard it all before. “I just… If we find another one we really like, I don’t want to lose it again.”

You felt bad bringing it up again, but you’ll never forget how brokenhearted you felt having your dream wedding brutally ripped away from you. You were so excited, with Touru’s approval, you were able to reserve your wedding date for what was supposed to be this year at a botanical garden in the countryside. You began planning decorations, wedding colors, bridesmaids dresses -- Everything centered around having your perfect wedding at the botanical gardens. You’d finally be the flower fairy you’d always dreamed of being.

Then April, Touru’s little sister found out where the wedding was being held. She went mental on her older brother telling him how stuffy it’d be in the middle of summer and how sick she’d get spending even just a couple of hours in a “plant infested biome”, and if her brother’s fiancee insisted on having the wedding there, then she wouldn’t be attending. Needless to say, Touru cancelled the reservation almost immediately, and without even consulting you.

“Don’t worry,” Touru reassured you, kneeling down so he could cup your cheeks in his hands, “The Botanical Gardens wedding just wasn’t meant to be.” He whispered, “But that just means that the place we do end up getting married at will be the perfect place. It’s going to be magical, and you’re going to be so happy, you won’t even remember why you were upset about that place.”

Although you could feel tears of anger welling up behind your eyes, you willed yourself not to cry. You pulled your lips into a tight smile and nodded stiffly, “You’re right.” You sniffled. “It doesn’t really matter where we get married. At the end of the day, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.” You whispered. He smiled, “And I’ll be happy with you.” He whispered as he pulled you closer to press a soft kiss to your lips.

That was all that mattered. As long as you get to marry the love of your life, you should be happy.

Right?

__

It was a surprisingly slow night. For the customers, at least.

But not for Irene who had made it her mission to convince you to cover an overnight shift. She briefly mentioned it when you walked in for your shift, but you were polite in turning her down. “Ah, I don’t think I can.” You told her, “I have to be home to make dinner for my fiance of an evening, and I don’t think he’d be too happy if I was here working instead.” Which wasn’t a lie. If anything, it’s an understatement, you thought to yourself.

Irene scrunched her nose a bit, “Oh, you wouldn’t need to be here until ten O’clock, sweetie!” She laughed, “That’s plenty of time to get dinner and everything out of the way, isn’t it?”

You really felt bad having to turn the shift down, but you knew how Touru would feel if you took it. You smiled sweetly, “I’m really sorry, Irene. I don’t think I can…”

She sighed, clearly disappointed, but accepted her loss. “It’s fine! I’ll figure something out!”

A couple hours later, as you were rushing out of the Women’s dressing room, arms full of folded shirts, Irene approached you again. “Hey, (Y/n)! Got a minute?”

“Uh…” You came to an abrupt stop as she just appeared in front of you from seemingly out of nowhere. “Uhm, I guess I do.”

Irene giggled, “Great! Hey, do you think you’d be interested in covering a night shift for me next month? I know it’s not hours that you usually work, but you’ll basically be doing the same thing, except you’ll be moving new items onto the floor, and some of our older stock into clearance.” She explained,  “It’d mean a lot to me, (Y/n). I wouldn’t usually ask you, but one of our overnight associates just went into labor, and she’s not gonna be back for a few weeks, and you’re the only other associate I can ask.”

The only one? What about Seokjin? You cleared your throat as she spoke. Seeming to take the hint, Irene moved so you could run the shirts back to their proper places, but she followed behind you, awaiting your answer with baited breath. “I know, Irene. We just discussed this when I came in, but I already said-”

“Oh, right. Right. You can’t come in because of your fiance, I forgot.” She mumbled while tapping her chin. “I think I wrote that down somewhere, but… Oh, shoot. I must’ve left my notes back in my office.” She sighed, let her hands fall to her sides. “You’re sure there’s no way you can cover? You’ll be making extra money after all!”

You frowned when she told you exactly how much extra you’d make, and that was per hour! Couldn’t she tell she was putting you in a tight spot, or would you really have to spell it out for her? “I’m really sorry, Irene. My answer is still no.”

She tried again during your break, but as soon as you saw her approaching you, you dialed Touru’s number. Luckily he picked up on the second ring. “Hey, baby! How’s work going?”

You knew better than to call him at work, and even got scolded as a result, but you weren’t sure what else to do. You could see the way she rolled her eyes out of the corner of your eye, but she ended up walking away.

Irene was hunting you down by the time you got back on the floor, and once she found you, it was all over but the crying.

“How many times are you going to ask me?” You demanded. Clearly annoyed at how she was handling this situation. Truthfully, you wanted the extra money -- Who wouldn’t? And really, you wouldn’t mind working the extra hours either. But everytime you even started to consider the idea, there was always that little bug of a reminder in the back of your mind, reigning you in, pulling you back. “No!” It yelled. “If you agree to take the night shift, it’ll just start another fight. It’s not worth it.”

Irene frowned, “Please, (Y/n)! It’s just this one shift, and it’ll give me enough time to find a temp to replace Misty while she’s out.” She begged. “You’re literally the last person I can ask. What can I do? I’m willing to offer you anything within reason if you’ll do this for me.”

You sighed, considering her offer. “Are you able to move any of my other shifts around?” You asked.

“Yes! Is that something you’d be interested in?”

You thought about it for a second. Touru’s father had already scheduled that expensive dinner, and it was way out of town, and Touru insisted you go with him even though you had an early shift the next morning.

You peaked a glance at her and oh god, of course she’s giving you sad puppy eyes.

“The last weekend of November. I want that whole weekend off. Friday through Sunday.” You bargained, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s the only way I can do it.”

And just like that, her face lit up like a christmas tree. All smiles and clasping her hands together, acrylic nails making a scraping sound as they clashed against one another. “Yes! Yes, that’ll work! You’ve got yourself a deal!” She exclaimed, absolutely tickled with excitement. She bounced on her toes and clapped her hands together before pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, (Y/n)! You don’t even know how much this means to me!” She giggled. You cringed at the thought of having to explain this to Touru, but this could actually be a good thing! Maybe the two of you could enjoy your weekend together after all!

“It’s no problem at all, Irene.” You said, clearing your throat as she pulled away from you. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

She gave you another bright smile before turning to walk away from you. “Thanks again, (Y/n)! I’ll be sure to let Jin know as well!”

...Huh?

“What? Wait, why do you need to let Seokjin know? Irene!” But she’d already walked away from you.

You stood there, dumbfounded and staring off at the empty space in front of you.

Well it’s not like it’ll just be you and Seokjin! There’s other overnight associates, you reasoned with yourself. It’s a big enough store! And if we're gonna be putting things out all night, then we won’t have time to bother each other! It’ll be fine.

“Hey, (Y/n)!”

Speak of the devil.

“Are you very busy right now?” Seokjin chirped over the radio. You were almost surprised when you’d heard your name in his voice. It’d been a couple days since you’d snubbed him for the comments he made regarding your relationship. Several hours since you’d fantasized about him while your future husband was fucking you into the mattress.

The two of you hadn’t spoken much until now, outside of when you had no choice be it involving customers or general topics regarding work. You’d managed to stay annoyed with him (Whether he knew it or not) up until this weekend, when you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Suddenly, something changed. Even now, when you felt like you should be upset or annoyed with him at the very least, his voice still managed to do something to you. Something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, and may have even been a little scared to find out.

Taking a slow, deep breath and pressing the button on your mic, “It's not too bad. Do you need some help?”

“I do, actually! Do you mind meeting me in the Men’s dressing room?”

You decided to just forget about the night shift for now as you made your way over to the Men’s department. Foot traffic had slowed down significantly about an hour ago. With only you and Seokjin on softline tonight and your side more or less being tidied up, you were just walking around looking for extra work for yourself, straightening shelves as needed, hoping to help a customer or two if they needed it.

A little further ahead, and you soon found a man’s back retreating into the confines of the Men’s dressing room. A man with fluffy dark hair, and broad shoulders that you knew by now you’d recognize anywhere. You wondered if he saw you coming, and what he had waiting for you.

Of course, when you followed close behind, you found the last thing you were expecting to see. “Oh my god, where… Who…”

“It was all in one room.” Seokjin replied, a tight smile etched into his face. Sat before you on the floor of the dressing room was a mountain; a literal mountain of clothing that stood at damn near the same height as your waist. You fell back on your heels, letting your butt hit the wall behind you. It wasn’t even the workload that put you off, you’d probably have all the folding and re-hanging done within an hour give or take, but the fact that you’d be confined to this little space with a man you were clearly attracted to…

Would it be rude of you to tell him you could do it by yourself? Seokjin sighed, breaking you out of your reverie, “Well I guess we should get to work.” He said, falling to his knees. “If you think this is too much, you don’t have to help! I just figured…” He chuckled a bit, losing the right words to say, “I don’t know, but don’t feel obligated is what I’m getting at.”

“No! I said I would!” You responded a bit louder than you’d intended. You fell to your knees on the other side of the clothing pile and began sorting through what you could, folding what looked like it deserved to be folded, and setting aside the items that needed to be hung.

“Thank you.” He said softly. His eyes met yours as he shot you with That Smile. That same fucking smile he used on your first day. Your breath hitched, but you smiled back anyway. Something definitely felt off about him tonight. He was quiet, maybe even a little detached from the situation. He always has something to say; moments like this were never quiet with him. Something about it just didn’t feel right, and despite your presumptuous opinions of him, seeing him like this made you feel bad.

“Did you sleep well last night?” He asked, voice breaking the heavy silence. You hummed, “Well enough, I think.” You reached for another pair of jeans, but your hand retreated too quickly when your fingertips just barely brushed his. You didn’t miss how his eyes caught yours for just a second before focusing back on his task. Did he look sad just then?

“My… Uh. I mean, Touru and I finally resolved some of our problems last night. I think.”

“Touru’s your boyfriend, right?”

“Listen,” He sighed, letting the jeans he’d been trying to fold for the last two minutes fall lazily into his lap, “I’ve been thinking about what I said that one day. About your problems. Your fight with your fiance that I clearly knew nothing about.” He laughed humorlessly. Oh god, he’s really gonna confront you about this, huh?

“Fiance, actually.”

“Fiance. My bad.” He chuckled, seeming to relax a little bit. “That’s good! I know it can be really stressful not getting along with the one you’re in love with, but those problems are always temporary thankfully.” You nodded along, hoping you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt.

“I just wanted to apologize.” He finally said. “I know this probably sounds like it’s coming completely out of left field, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how hurt you looked and sounded when you left, and you had every right. I was kind of a jerk with the way I responded.”

You busied yourself with folding as he continued to talk. You didn’t dare look up for fear he was staring at you, but instead focused your gaze on your hands, praying he couldn’t tell they were trembling. “I meant to say something sooner, but I didn’t really know how to bring it up, and I was kind of scared I’d make it worse, but…” He sighed again, composing himself. “I figured it’d be better to just go ahead and say I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me immediately, or at all if you don’t want to, but…”

You finally snuck a glance at him. Surprised to have met your gaze, he quickly averted his towards the empty changing room beside him. His cheeks tinged a light shade of pink. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling at how awkward you two were acting.

“I want you to know I’d like to be your friend someday, (Y/n). Like an actual friend. You can talk to me normally and confide in me when you need to, and I know now I need to have a softer approach with your feelings and I’ll remember that next time. I just hope I didn’t leave a bad first impression, and-”

“Seokjin.” You called out, your stupid fat grin hurting your face from how cute his apology was. His head shot up, big brown eyes wide with curiosity and worry. Big brown eyes that melted any residue of anger or annoyance left in your system. God he’s so goofy looking, but he’s really sweet as he can be, isn’t he? The genuine remorse in his voice, the way his eyes trembled with worry that maybe you’d never like him.

“Seokjin, everything’s okay. I forgive you! You don’t have to apologize or keep explaining yourself to me.” You cleared your throat, this time you’d been the one to look away from him. Oh god, your anxiety was catching up to you. What if Kyla told him? What if he was acting like this because of what you said? No, that doesn’t seem right at all. Seokjin is nothing like the character you had in mind. He’s just genuinely like this.

“I should be apologizing to you as well, actually.” You spoke up after a moment of silence.

“(Y/n)...”

“I think I just got scared.” You admitted to him. “I don’t like opening up to a lot of people, especially not when it comes to my problems with Touru. People suddenly become relationship experts when it comes to other people's lives, but…” You took a deep breath, “I guess what I'm trying to say is I appreciate your apology, and I appreciate you not trying to fix my problems for me. And I’m sorry for storming out the way I did. And if you felt like I’ve treated you any differently this last week, then I’m sorry about that, too.”

Seokjin stared at you silently for a long moment. Then he burst out into a fit of laughter, “You didn’t offend me! You have no reason to apologize!” He choked out. You smiled awkwardly, but before long, his infectious laughter had you joining in as you too, quickly realized the situation. “God, look at us! Two idiots who’ve been agonizing over something that wasn’t even that big of a deal.” He continued, trying to catch his breath. You smiled, “I don’t want us to have problems, Seokjin. I mean it when I say I enjoy your company, and I really enjoy working with you.” You explained shyly, “If the offer is still open, then I’d be happy if we could go back to being friends.”

Seokjin had a child-like look of wonder cross his face for a moment as if that was the last thing he’d expected you to say. You were worried for a moment that you came across the wrong way, but a wondrous look was quickly replaced with a smile. “I always considered you my friend, (Y/n). I’m just glad we’re finally on the same page now.” He laughed. Of course he never stopped liking you. He was never mad at you, he was just waiting for you to not be mad at him. Seokjin wasn’t a bad guy, you just needed to take the time to get to know him for who he was.

Although making friends these last few years hasn’t been that easy. The only two people you’d really hung out with anymore was your best friend, Dahyun and her girlfriend, Chae. They tried looping you into their friend group awhile back, and it was nice seeing those girls when you tagged along with the lot of them. Unfortunately though, it felt like you’d been so busy with planning your wedding, you rarely even got to see your friends anymore. Just another reason why you loved this job as much as you did.

After falling into a comfortable routine with Seokjin for a bit, he’d finally spoken up again. “By the way, (Y/n)...” You looked up curiously.

“You don’t have to keep calling me Seokjin.” He said with a wink,

“Just Jin is fine.”

__

You and Dahyun finally had a match in your schedules that week and agreed to meet up at the bar. It felt like the two of you didn’t get to hang out as much recently. Although with Tourus father's company helping this small business get back on their feet, you were hoping this meant you’d have a little more time for yourself.

“Hm. Just seems to me like everytime you guys try to move forward with the wedding, something comes up, and suddenly he has to put it off.” Dahyun said, casually watching the swirling liquid in her martini glass, “I don’t know. I think he has his own dream wedding in mind, but he’s just building up to it so it doesn’t seem like he had to ruin… Your dream wedding. Know what I mean?”

You wouldn’t really say he intended on ruining your dream wedding, but you definitely wouldn’t put it past him to push his idea of the perfect wedding instead. “I don’t really think that’s the case, Dahyun.” You sighed, “Touru wouldn’t be that selfish; he wants to see me happy, too. We just… Have to come to a compromise. That’s all.”

Dahyun rolled her eyes. “The wedding is supposed to be about the bride. He’s gonna get his way about everything else in the relationship! I just don’t understand why-”

“Well, technically it wasn’t him this time! His sister said-”

“Fuck his sister!” Dahyun shouted, slamming her glass down and nearly busting the bottom. “God! I can’t stand her! She’s such a bitch! I’m telling you, I know she was trying to set Touru up with that fucking friend of hers last year.” She insists through clenched teeth. “Touru wouldn’t cheat on me, he loves me too much…” Your own voice sounded meak in your ears. You were perfectly confident that your relationship was strong, still it didn’t feel good to think that his own sister of all people would try to replace you.

“I know April and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but she can be really nice sometimes…” Dahyun raised a brow at you, “She can be nice sometimes.” She echoed. You nodded. Still unconvinced, Dahyun crossed her arms across her chest, perfectly manicured nails dramatically curled around her biceps as she leaned back into her barstool. “Enlighten me then. When was the last time she showed even a small act of kindness towards you?” She asked.

You sighed, “Dahyun, please don’t start this-”

“No, seriously. Something small. The bar is so low at this point.” She retorted, “Even something as small as a compliment. Sending a ‘Happy holidays’ text. Anything.” She continued, reaching out to pick her drink up again, touching the rim to her ruby lips, “I’ll wait.”

Before you could form a response, you jumped at feeling someone clap you on the shoulder. “(Y/n)! Fancy meeting you here!”

You knew that voice. Of course you knew that fucking voice. The man with fluffy black hair, his hand still grasping your shoulder, looked over at the girl beside you. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’d like to ask the same thing!” Dahyun said, a shit-eating grin smeared across her face. She offered her hand to your coworker, “I’m Dahyun, (Y/n)’s best friend. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Awe, how sweet! I’m Jin!” He replied, shaking her hand, “(Y/n) and I work together!” He said, finally releasing your shoulder and taking the barstool on the other side of you before promptly ordering his drink.

“Oh, I forgot you were a working woman now!” Dahyun laughed. You could clearly see Jin’s mouth moving, crescent eyed smiles as his eyes shifted between you to your best friend and back again, but you couldn’t hear what he’d said. You turned back to the bar and idly swirled your drink, quietly sulking over the fact that you were now a party of three instead of a party of two.

Was it really so bad? Dahyun would never rat you out to Touru about Jin showing up here. She wouldn’t have anything to rat out anyway, you reminded yourself. It’s just sheer coincidence that he showed up while you were here. Even so, this was supposed to be a girls night out for the two of you. What right did he have just barging in? “So what brings you here tonight, Jin?” Dahyun asked cheerfully.

Jin shrugged, “I was actually supposed to meet my date here, but she flaked on me. I saw (Y/n) over here and figured I might join you guys for a drink or two.” Jin responded, nudging you with his elbow.

Jin was supposed to be on a date?

“Awe, so you’re not here to swoop (Y/n) off her feet.” Dahyun giggled, catching you off guard. You sputtered mid-drink, hastily scrambling for a napkin, “Dahyun! That’s completely inappropriate!” You scolded her. Jin had been laughing beside you and seemed to pay you no mind, “He’s my coworker!”

“She’s actually a tough nut to crack!” Jin chimed in once he could catch his breath. “Oh believe me, I know! You should hear us go back and forth about-”

You turned and grabbed her bicep, giving Jin a full view of the back of your head, “Hey. Can we not do this right now?” You asked seriously. “Chill out, (Y/n)! We’re just joking around.” She rolled her eyes and nudged your hand off her arm. Jin hadn’t even given her joke a second thought as he put in his order with the bartender.

The night went on like that for quite some time. Jin and Dahyun making merciless jokes about you, Jin talking about your guys’ work -- Although he tried to drag you into the conversation once or twice, your responses were short and sweet. After a while Dahyun started telling him some story from your guys’ college days, you just tuned them out until their conversation ended up meshing with the rest of the background noise.

You ordered another drink with your attention barely focused on your phone in front of you, and you decided to unlock it. Your mind was in a haze, and you couldn’t really keep your focus on anything other than your own bad mood.

You smirked to yourself as you opened your chat thread with Touru.

Last message sent over an hour ago saying, “I understand. I love you!” With a heart emoji. You frowned.

Touru often used to tell you you’re selfish. He’d mostly say it during arguments, but he wouldn’t let you forget it. You remember when you were still in college, he said, “It’s like you live in your head so often, you don’t even see how you’re making other people feel!” Or something along those lines.

He even had the nerve to ask if you cared about him or his feelings, and that one really hurt. Wasn’t that how he convinced you to drop out of nursing school? You couldn’t remember. Or you didn’t want to.

Jin’s squeaky laugh broke you out of your thoughts. You cast a glance over at him for a minute, but he’d already been looking at you. He kept smiling like he was waiting for you to say something. Did he ask you a question?

Maybe Touru was right about you, but who cares. You rolled your eyes at Jin and called the bartender back over. You didn’t know what it was; you didn’t want to dampen the mood, really! The least he could’ve done though, was ask if the two of you were okay with it.

You scrolled mindlessly through your texts, completely skipping over Touru’s “Don’t talk to any guys, and call me if Dahyun starts acting stupid.” spiel. You didn’t want to hear it again. Nights like this, you couldn’t stand Touru’s overprotective bullshit. God forbid you go out with your friends. Actually take some time to enjoy yourself.

You hesitated, your unfocused vision just staring at the wall of text before you finally decided to delete it altogether. You couldn’t take it. You swore if you had to see it one more time, you’d probably just start in on him.

Yeah. You know how to start shit, but you never win, your insecurities berated you.

You’re too much of a sap, always giving into him way too easily. That’s why you let him fuck you senseless last time. Just so you could keep pretending you have a perfect relationship.

“Oh my gosh, you’d love my girlfriend then! Her name’s Chae, and she’s constantly playing that game, too! You guys may have even been on the same server once or twice!” Dahyun’s laugh felt like a wakeup call, dragging you out of your lonely little pity party. You dropped your phone, screen down on the bar. By now, you were nursing your forth margarita, and you were feeling out of sorts. You peaked a glance at Jin. He said something to the bartender, but you couldn’t hear him. He must’ve felt your eyes on him when he turned, shooting you with that adorable dimple smile of his.

You snarled your nose and scoffed at him and turned back to Dahyun, about to tell her you were ready to go, but something stopped you. Her face was scrunched up in concern. You swallowed, trying to rein in some sobriety. You placed a comforting hand on her arm, “Hey. Is everything okay?”

It took her a minute, but she nodded a slow nod, never looking up at you. “Uh. I’m not sure actually. I think something came up with Chaeyoung.” She mumbled. Your eyes widened, “Woah, is she alright?”

“Yeah, but… I’m gonna go check on her.” She quickly got up and started gathering her things. “Just in case. Don’t worry about tonight, okay? I’ll put this all on my tab, yeah?”

“Wait, I can go with you!” You replied, jumping out of your seat a little too quickly. Suddenly, the world felt like it was tilting off its axis, and you could feel yourself stumbling back, but your shoulders just barely grazed someone's chest before you felt them catch you.

“Hey, maybe you should sit back down.” Jin said, trying to lure you into your seat. “I won’t sit back down! Dahyun, is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine, but I really need to go. Jin-”

“I can get her home, it’s fine.”

The world felt like it was spinning a little too quickly. What on earth was going on? “(Y/n) I’m really sorry! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” Dahyun said quickly, pulling you into a tight embrace which felt like it lasted an eternity. You blatantly refused to hug her back, instead opting to keep your arms tight against your waist, and your hands balled up into fists. “Just…” You breathed, trying not to let your frustration get the better of you. “Just let me know when you get there. And let me know if she’s okay?”

Dahyun smiled, “Of course I will.” She quickly waved goodbye to you both and hurried out of the bar. “C’mon. I think I should be getting you home as well.” Jin said, ushering you towards the door.

__

You pouted all the way back to your place, just barely uttering directions when Jin asked for them. It was weird, you were angry; you knew you were angry, but over what, you weren’t sure. You’d long since forgotten about Jin interrupting your outing with Dahyun. Having him there was probably more fun than you had anticipated. Not that you’d know, you spent most of your night drowning yourself in sadness and alcohol.

Your first night out in months, and you completely ruined it. Way to go, (Y/n).

“That’s the house up there, but… Can you just drop me off here?” You asked solemnly. “Here?” You could feel Jin giving you a funny look, but you just nodded at his question. It was less than a block away, but you knew better than to let Jin pull up right in front of the house. Even as drunk as you were, you only knew how Touru would react if he saw another man dropping you off instead of your friend.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle, but Jin’s hand grasped your wrist first, mumbling a small “Hey,” Before you could escape. You stopped, turning just a little bit to show you were willing to listen.

“Sorry, I-” He quickly released your wrist and took a deep breath, “I just wanted to say I had a lot of fun hanging out with you and your friend tonight, and… I’m sorry if you felt like I butted in on your guys’ night.”

His voice sounded so small by the end that you had to check on him just to make sure he hadn’t started crying.

Well, now you felt guilty. “Hey,” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I seemed a little rude tonight. I just missed Dahyun was all; we haven’t seen each other since I started working, but I promise we had a lot of fun with you, too!”

Jin smiled at you. “I may have a confession to make as well.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I… I didn’t actually have a date tonight.” He sighed, “I go to that bar pretty often actually to drink and just be around other people, but when I saw you, I thought…”

You took in a deep breath, you weren’t sure how to respond to that. Part of you really just couldn’t wrap your mind around it -- Kim Seokjin, comedic king and pun connoisseur was lonely?

“Well…” You sighed, “I won’t tell anybody, but for future reference, you don’t have to make something up just so you’ll have somebody to drink with.” You explained softly, “Just a simple, ‘Hey, can I sit with you guys?’ oughta do the trick.” you wink at him. His cheeks began to flush as he giggled, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or something else. You could tell your own face was warm. It’d also just occurred to you that your hair is probably sticking to your forehead, and your makeup was probably a little on the runny side, but Jin didn’t seem to care. Or if he did, he certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it. Always the gentleman, you thought to yourself.

Hesitantly, you reach out for his hand resting on the gearshift. You covered it with your own and thumbed over his knuckles, “I’ll see you later, okay Jin?” He offered you a silent nod and a small smile. “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

Your hand retracted as you finally got out of the car, and walked the rest of the way to your house. Jin sat there silently, watching you. Making sure nobody bothered you and you got inside safely.

He could just barely make out your silhouette as you walked by the window when a second, taller figure appeared. He stared -- Openly gawked as they pulled you into them and you looked up, clearly expecting a kiss which the taller figure happily provided. “Must be Touru…” Jin partially mumbled, partially slurred to himself. Something settled into the pit of his stomach as he watched for a moment longer. He could tell how giddy you were by the way you’re clearly bouncing on your toes, and the taller figure -- Touru, wrapped his arms around your waist and dipped his face into the crook of your neck.

He could feel his dick twitching as his thoughts began to linger. Imagining those were his hands on your hips instead of Tourus. Wondering how soft your skin probably felt, or the taste of your lips after drowning several margaritas. Fuck, you looked so good tonight. So pretty, and he couldn’t stop staring at you. You’d even caught him a few times, but you didn’t seem to think anything of it. Or you just didn’t care.

He wondered if he ever crossed your mind. If you ever felt a rush when the two of you would touch. He knew damn well the feeling of your hand on his did something to him tonight. Something he wasn’t expecting. It couldn’t have had that strong of an effect on him though, could it? Obviously it was, otherwise he wouldn’t still be sitting here just a few feet from your house like some creep, feeling mesmerized by your touch.

As if needing a reminder of where he was, he quickly realized Touru had pulled your shirt over your head at some point, and his hands were cupping your breasts. You seemed to enjoy it as your hands grazed his stomach, teasing the lining of his pants.

Jin belched and finally drew his eyes away from the scene, almost in disgust. “Fuckin’ weirdo. She’s not even into you.” He berated himself. Deciding it’s pretty late and he’d already seen more than enough, he turned the key in the ignition and the car rumbled to life. It isn’t until he’s already shifted into drive and turned back onto the main street that he’s realized…

He’s definitely jealous of your fiance.

[songandashadow]

Fics I read this month. Please don’t forget to leave kudos on these amazing fics! :) 

other recs of mine: my August Fic Rec | my favorites | friends to lovers rec | canon compliant fic rec | ace! larry fic rec

***PLEASE ALWAYS READ THE TAGS FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

In Circles of You and Me by theweightofmywords | 21k 

college/uni au | friends with benefits | miscommunication | angst and fluff

Louis pulls Harry closer by the belt loops. Harry could feel his breath warm against his neck as he brushes his lips against his skin. “You know... I don’t care if you kiss other people.”

Harry smiles as he feels Louis’ stubble scratch against his neck. “I know you don’t, but-”

He stifles a moan as Louis bites down gently on the soft surface of his skin. “You can kiss other people too-”

Louis pauses to look at him pointedly. “I know I can.”

“Well, have you?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed.

“What’s it to you?” Louis retorts with a smirk. “You’re the one I’m kissing now.”

--

Or, Louis and Harry keep running into each other at parties. It doesn't mean anything, until it does.

the whole world, it is sleeping (but my world is you) by orphan_account  | 22k

x factor era | blind! harry | friends to lovers | smut | angst

Louis knows who this boy is. He saw him at the audition, on the chair in line getting interviewed. He’s called Harry, and he's got the most brilliant voice and the biggest sob story that Louis has ever heard, and what Louis knows is that he doesn't want it to be a sob story at all. His eyes are a wide, glossy sea glass green, and he can’t see a thing."

Louis never really knew commitment, never really knew love, until Harry.

The Section by bananaheathen | 11k

college/uni au | fluff and smut | banter | mutual pining | TA louis

In which Louis is a TA for an Intro to Cinema course, and Harry is an undergrad with a bit of a crush.

Or, the one with "Name: Harry Styles, Date: me please"

As usual, it’s the Irish one he hears first.

“Keep up, Styles. It’s YOUR boyfriend we’re off to see.” “He’ll have heard that, Niall, you arse. Thank you so much.”

Louis just has time to text Zayn: fuck.

The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by SpeakingWithInk | 13k

angst and fluff | asexual! louis | coming out 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling | 83k

royalty au | enemies to lovers | angst 

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

Heartbeats in Time by forreveries | 6k

friends to lovers | fluff | high school au | first kiss | feelings and stuff

Based on the prompt: Harry and Louis are stuck inside on a rainy day and it’s all cuddles and snuggles and then one of them kisses the other for the first time and they admit their feelings.

Baby, I think we might be too cold to float by forreveries | 81k

murder mystery | journalist! harry | exes to lovers | new zealand

They couldn’t come back together after six years apart and tell themselves that this was love that they were making. Not with all that radio silence. Harry tried to keep it all down, lodged under the lump in his throat. He needed something to focus on, something to keep him out of his thoughts, so that he could go along with this because he didn’t want Louis to take his hands off him. He didn’t want that to happen. But. But he needed it to. “Wait,” Harry coughed out, his voice trembling, “Stop.” Louis looked up at him with wide eyes. “I— I need to stop,” Harry confessed, trying desperately to keep his voice straight. “What is it?” Louis asked, full of concern. “I can’t do this. I— I can’t play along. You left me and I need answers, Louis.” His voice caught on the end of his name.

AKA: Harry is a journalist that goes to Lake Tekapo, New Zealand, to look into a girl’s disappearance after a year of no movement from police. What he finds instead is his ex boyfriend Louis, who, six years earlier, ghosted him after five months of dating in university. A story of trauma, secrets, and the power of finally letting people in.

bambi legs by disgruntledkittenface | 11k

girl direction | first date | asexual character | fluff | no smut | coming out

“Oh my god,” Zayn says, rolling her eyes and standing up. “You do know what this means, right?”

“Yes?” Harry tries, looking up pathetically and hoping Zayn will take pity on her.

“This means she doesn’t even need the fabric she buys from you every other week,” Zayn says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “She doesn’t come here for the fabric. She comes here for you.”

Harry works at her family’s fabric store sometimes and always sells the most interesting fabrics to Louis. Louis is the wannabe fashion designer who keeps buying fabric she doesn’t necessarily need just to find a way to talk to Harry.

You Got That Somethin' by styleandsin | 5k

famous/non famous au | musician harry | strangers to lovers | no smut

How are you? Having a good time? Got a couple of beers in? What are those?” Louis hears him ask in quick succession, the loudness of the microphone making him jump even though the screams around him have yet to cease.

“It’s vodka,” Louis says, slightly unsure.

“Vodka! Oh, straight?” Harry asks, louder this time and with a growing smile.

Phoebe and Daisy have turned around to face him, huge smiles on their faces.

Fuck, this man is really going to be the death of Louis. He can physically feel his brain struggling to make his body cooperate and answer the question. He is so gay.

“No, gay!” He shouts, immediately getting an elbow to the side by his sister.

Or, the one where Louis attends a Harry Styles concert and makes an absolute fool of himself.

between chaos and control by stylinsoncity | 19k

companion piece to the wonderlands written from Louis’ POV

give me love by falsegoodnight, soldouthaz | 41k

a/b/o | slow burn | alpha harry/omega louis | fluff and smut | unsafe sex

Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

-

Or, Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

Indestructible by whoknows | 24k

car accident | amnesia | angst | ptsd

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, and Louis hiccups out a sob.

“Hi,” he manages, still clutching onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s fingers drift across Louis’ cheeks, and there’s something off about Harry’s expression, but Louis can’t figure out what it is.

“I’m okay,” Harry says, and Louis is going to say something to that, even if he doesn’t know what, except Harry’s kissing him.

Louis freezes.

maybe by momentofclarity | 2k

first meetings | falling in love | age difference (L is like 30 and H is even older)

I cannot not see you again. I cannot.

breathe into your well by turnyourankle | 4k

a/b/o | omega harry | smut

A rut bar. A place where omegas who are so inclined can link up with Alphas in rut. It's not a place Louis ever pictured himself visiting but in the hopes of having a memorable rut, it's where he finds himself tonight.

Sympathy For The Devil by taggiecb | 5k

fantasy au | santa harry | satan louis 

Louis keeps stealing some of Harry’s mail, which would be annoying for anyone, but it’s especially troubling when you consider that Harry is Santa Claus. Harry will have to go through hell to get Louis to stop. Literally.

Or the one with Santa Harry and Satan Louis and a series of misspelled letters to Santa.

We Met on Lex: A Socially Distanced Romance by homosociallyyours  | 4k

girl direction | online dating | blm protests | social distancing

Tipsy on the best bottle of wine she's had in a minute, Harry decides to join Lex-- a dating app for LGBTQ+ people that doesn't rely on pictures for first impressions --and write an ad for herself. Maybe she would've forgotten about it if the first response she received hadn't been so good, but as it is she's curious to know more about this Tommo person.

If only she could stop thinking about the girl who sold her that fateful bottle of wine yesterday...

Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is a Brand New Start by Rearviewdreamer | 62k

WARNING: domestic violence | graphic descriptions of violence

strangers to lovers | hurt/comfort | kid fic | angst and fluff | photographer! harry

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

[milkie-yoongi]

SHRBBFBF 19 35 1 28 54 12 16 2 3 5 4 9 10 7 6 22 30 TROLOLOLO

OK THANK YOU MA’AM NOW YOU GET YOUR REWARD WHICH IS MY ANSWERS (thank God theres no number after 26 my wrists are hurting)

19. Has an idol or group said anything that has stuck with you?

OH YES everything yoongi has said sticks with me in some way, but this one is one ill always remember:

“it’s okay if you don’t have a dream, you might not have one. just being happy is fine.”

its so reassuring to hear this because people in our generation have grown up in a culture where having a dream is normal, honorable, and even expected. from the day we’re in kindergarten, grown ups ask us “what do you want to be when you grow up?” and we say far fetched things like pilots, surgeons astronauts, which is great. It’s amazing to see little kids want to become something so honorable. But a lot of times, having a dream comes with making sacrifices, and if you know that you actually desire to go after your dream, those sacrifices may be worth it to you. But society often shuns those who don’t have dreams. They consider these people confused, lazy, abnormal, etc. I think his words spoke to me so deeply because I never had a dream. I have ideas and plans of what I’d like to do, but I don’t want to dream because doing so to me is just chasing a fantasy. I don’t want to chase after something that may keep running away. Something that I may never reach. I don’t like to dream. Am I weird? I thought so in high school, but now I am content. So I just do the best I can with whatever opportunity is in front of me, moment by moment, and await the doors that open from there. It’s worked pretty well so far. 

It’s important to enjoy happiness now, to be content wherever you are, whether you have a dream or not, whether you reached that dream or not. It’s okay to feel lost, to feel like you have no direction or no idea of where you want to go in life. It will all work out the way it’s supposed to eventually. Yoongi is saying it’s important to just be happy,  because if you’re always focused on the future you will miss out on the good things that are right in front of you in the present. (through this i get to give all of you some reassurance (especially to my younger followers) and a wake up call and i love it) :)

1. What kpop songs make you feel at home?

Ughh tough one but Awake by Seokjin and Forever Rain by Namjoon, and BTS’s Young Forever like wow they just get me every time. 

2. What idol(s) do you associate with kindness?

All of BTS really because they are so selfless but the ones that stand out are Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon because they’ve just constantly gone out of their way to serve others whether it be making sacrifices for the younger ones in BTS or giving back to fans/society. 

3. Has a kpop song or group helped you through some difficult times? If so, and if you feel comfortable, share how.

First Love…man, this one just spoke to me on so many levels. I made an entire tumblr post honoring that masterpiece last year but I can’t find it so I’ll sum it up as concisely as I can. I was going through a rough time before my first year of undergrad. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life but I just got into deeply stanning BTS a few months before graduating HS and I felt like through all their songs, they were speaking to me to do what made me happy and not follow what others said would make me happy. My parents really wanted me to go to a good university because they wanted the best for me, and I was thankful, but I felt out of place there. I hated my major and I wanted to do something else, but didn’t know what because literally nothing interests me enough. Uni had already started though, and while my skill set was good for my major, I was so bored. I was ready to give piano up too and give in to the peer pressure of “just focus on school and forget anything that may distract you from it” (the mindset of the humans around me are so lame seriously i wish I grew up in a different area). So after my last piano lesson in HS, I didn’t touch the instrument much and it didn’t occur to me that if I kept that up, all my years of lessons would go to waste. So in the middle of my first quarter at uni (it was october), I was called to do more collaborative performances. I said yes because Im too nice, but practicing was hard when I had to worry about the demands of school. A few days later, while I was still learning the pieces I was supposed to play, the Wings album dropped. I already stanned Yoongi at that time because he was so relatable to me since the stuff we went through is very similar (through mine being very mild compared to his), but when I heard First Love about how he never wanted let go of what he loved most even when things were tough, I knew that at the time, it was meant to be that I continue piano. I grew to love it so much throughout the next few weeks, not just because of the song lyrics that made it feel like he was speaking to encourage me but because of what piano itself was able to do for me. It saved me from feeling like I was a slave to school, it provided me with something rewarding to look forward to, gave me a great part time job, and gave had a purpose when I never felt as if I had a purpose (skill wise) before. When things got tough and I had no desire to keep practicing, the lyrics of this song made me want to practice, to keep going. 

You know what, let me give you a breakdown of why this song SPECIFICALLY spoke to me through the lyrics (yes this is going to be a 1500 word essay because im just so touched by this and have been since 2016 SO READ IT! YOU WON’T REGRET.

I remember back during my elementary school daysWhen my height became taller than yoursI neglected you when I once yearned for you soOn top of the white jade-like keyboardDust is piling onYour image that has been neglectedEven then I didn’t know your significance

^This is exactly how I felt when I first learned to play piano in elementary school. I hated it. I cried whenever I had to practice because all my friends had so much free time and got to run around outside whenever they wanted while I couldn’t. i was jealous of them because they did not have this responsibility. I wanted to quit during the first few years since I was naive though because I did not know how thankful I would one day be for learning this instrument. I didn’t know its significance. 

Don’t worry even if I leaveYou’ll do well on your ownI remember when I first met youBefore I knew it you grew upThough we are putting an end to our relationship

^My parents still pushed for lessons and wouldn’t let me quit. I still despised going to lessons and practicing, and did the bare minimum to pass the music exams, which allowed me to focus more on my friends and schoolwork. I didn’t feel sorry that I took no joy in it, it just felt like a routine chore I had to get through each year, like school. In my mind, I put an end to that relationship. 

Don’t ever feel sorry to meI will get to meet you againNo matter what formGreet me happily then

^Now that I look back, I could see that if my piano could talk, as stupid as that sounds, it would say this to me, telling me that I would greet it happily again one day because I would be so thankful for the role it would play in my life.

I remember back then when I met you thatI had completely forgotten, when I was around 14The awkwardness was only for a moment, I touched you againEven though I was gone for a long timeWithout repulsionYou accepted me

^I was 14 when I met a classmate who revitalized my interest in playing piano after my 6 years of hating it. We became great friends because of piano. He did the same program as me where we had to pass yearly exams, so we went through the struggle together for most of high school. His love for playing inspired me, and for the first time, I genuinely began to enjoy it. 

Don’t let go of my hand forever, I won’t let go of you again either

^Again, if pianos could talk, this is what it would say to me the moment I performed my first duet with a good friend of mine. I enjoyed it so much that it gave me chills each time we rehearsed the piece together, feeding off each other’s energy. I never felt this kind of energy when I performed as a soloist, only fear and dread. This is when I knew that if this type of playing (collaborative) it could make me feel this way all the time, I would vow to never stop playing. So I decided to never let go again. 

I remember back thenWe burned up the last of my teen’sYes the days when we couldn’t see an inch in front of usWe laughed, we criedThose days with you,Those moments are now in memories

^The 18th, 19th, and 20th years of my life. Those years went by fast and most of my joy during those years came from practicing for duet and chamber music performances. There was so much emotion, and so much thankfulness that overcame me each time I touched the keys. I lived for it. It helped me get through the times I was most discouraged and really was the thing that motivated me to do well in school and other things because to practice as much as I wanted I had to first finish everything else that could get in my way. Those moments have now become the best memories of my life, because it was the first time I loved something so much.

Every time I wanted to give upBy my side you said …you can really do it

^I constantly doubted my abilities. I don’t have pure talent, I get nervous easily, and I need to put hours and hours of practice in compared to others. Thousands of people are more qualified than me to be in this position, to be serving this purpose. So many times I’ve thought, is this really worth it? Am I the right person to do this? Why did I have to practice late into the night, sacrifice some aspects of my social life and going out, and feeling guilty anytime I’m wasnt practicing, just to learn a musical piece? It wasn’t easy at all. Yet, the chills I get from every practice and every performance along with every smile I’ve received from those I perform with has been a confirmation that no matter how hard it gets, I shouldn’t stop, because the joy at the end is worth so much more than the pain of the process. And I learned that if you love something so much, then you really can do it and you won’t let anything stop you.

The corner of my memoryA brown piano settled on one sideIn the corner of my childhood houseA brown piano settled on one side

^As time goes on and seasons change, life may take me to a place where I’ll never be able to experience this type of joy from a piano again, or it may take me to a place where I can be surrounded by this joy everyday. Who knows, life is strange and unpredictable. But one thing is for sure. I’ll never forget the significance of this instrument. It’s such a simple thing. An inanimate object with eighty eight black and white keys, maybe a piece of furniture to some people. But to me, it will always remain as special memory that saved me from feeling even more lost and let me meet and help so many great people. 

Thank you Yoongi, for writing this song and releasing it EXACTLY when I needed it.

(I should actually be practicing right now I devoted my time to this because it means so much to me)

~~If you happened to read this whole thing let me know what you think I WANT YOUR THOUGHTS! also, you a real one ;)

5. What’s your favorite ballad?

HMMM THIS IS A MEAN QUESTION BECAUSE I LIVE FOR BALLADS. “Autumn Outside the Post Office” is a good one

4. What idol would you star gaze with? Why?

Yoongi since he will be a sleepy bb and that’ll give me the chance to cuddle him with as many blankets as he wants. 

7. Would you rather give or receive a gift from your bias?

Give a gift first because its better to GIVE than RECEIVE MHMM but also because Yoongi just does so much for everyone and works so hard so I want to give him a gift with a letter in it expressing my thankfulness for his existence. He better read it. 

6. What was your first kpop group that you stanned? Why did you stan?

B.A.P !! These six bois were the hIGHLIGHT of my life back then. Honestly I got through high school happily because of them! They were just so down to earth and hilarious, and I admired that they wrote most of their songs and wrote lyrics about actual issues in the world instead of just cheesy love. They switched up their musical style a lot and weren’t afraid to experiment with new sounds and were able to go from hard hitting tracks to ballads that could make tears travel down your face instantly. Also Daehyun’s voice…nobody can beat that I think he ate an angel or something oooOooOoo. And Zelo’s love for cherry tomatoes, Yongguk getting uncooked ramen out of the mailbox in a park, and Jongup eating mcdonald’s on that one show…ok that’s enough, let me go cry now bc of this nostalgia. 

22. Would you rather go to Disneyland or Everland with your bias? What would you do there?

Everland because I’ve been to Disneyland wayyyyy too much and I’m tired of the humongous crowd. But Yoongi is probably not the type to get all excited over amusement parks and I’m cool w that so we’d most likely just walk around and eat churros every hour if Everland even has those. 

[1dcraftawards]

April Author of the Month

Drumroll please.... our author of the month for April is...... 

@harrysdodgyankles!

Congratulations! Check out her interview with us below! 

1.Did you start writing fanfiction for One Direction, or was there another fandom that you wrote fanfiction for before this?

One Direction is the one and only fandom I’ve ever written fanfiction for. It was my first foray into the fiction-writing world--I’ve been reading fic since 2012 and I initially started exchanging stories with one of my best friends from high school in this email chain we had. We never planned on letting those stories leave our inboxes, but one day I guess I felt driven enough to start publishing my stories on the 1DFF website--and here we are, six years later!

2.How old were you when you started writing fanfiction?

I started properly writing my own fanfiction in 2013, so I was 16/17 years old. It was a while before I published anything I thought was quality (at least, back then), but I wrote pretty consistently until my sophomore year of college. I took a bit of a break, mostly to focus on school and get through my last two years of undergrad, but I’ve found a new motivation for writing and this resurgence has been treating me well so far!

3.What’s been your favorite fic you’ve written to work on so far?

All of my fics are my favorites for lots of different reasons. I love writing Sit Back because of the amount of research I’ve had to do for all of the different historical periods. I know far too much about the fall of the Roman Empire than I’d ever thought I would. I loved writing my various fic exchange pieces because of my love for beginning stories in media res; these challenges are the perfect opportunities for me to create AU worlds from scratch. Each story has a really special place in my heart--I reminisce on my writing processes for them pretty often, especially when I’m looking for inspiration and drive to formulate new stories.

4. Is there a fic that you really wanted to write, but you just never did?

I have a fic I started and never finished. A League of Their Own--I started publishing it, gosh, probably back in 2014. It has such a special place in my heart, but with where my life was at the time and all of the other responsibilities I had, I couldn’t give the story the time and effort it deserved. It was my only OU story and I wanted to do its characters justice--one day I hope to come back to it, but for now it’s sitting in my drafts folder collecting dust.

5. What’s your favorite trope to write?

I’m allergic to angst, so I try to stay away from it (mostly out of self-preservation for my emotions). I love writing friends to lovers and established relationship fics. Dad!Harry, Husband!Harry--anything fluffy involving commitment. I’m really into that.

6. What’s your ideal space to write in?

In my bed, usually at night when the rest of my house is asleep. I like the quiet stillness of my house--it helps me clear my brain and focus on the content of my piece. It’s also because no one knows I write fic, so there’s less chance of them accidentally seeing something on my screen and asking questions.

7. What inspires you to write?

Honestly, telling stories for people who don’t often get their stories told. This was an important lesson that took me a while to learn. I didn’t used to do this, but now I make a point to write characters who are often underrepresented; for me, as a South Asian Muslim woman, I come from a very miniscule corner of representation in the One Direction fan community. It’s important to me that I try to give us a voice in any way possible. Lots of people don’t realize the impact seeing someone like yourself on a screen can have--it’s a little thing, but it says a lot. It makes sure we aren’t erased, that we aren’t cast aside. That’s why all my fics have characters of color, especially characters of South Asian descent. And when people resonate with that--that’s the biggest inspirational motivating factor for me.

8. Do you typically like to listen to music when you write? If so, what do you listen to?

If I listen to music, it’s music that I don’t know the lyrics to. If I know the lyrics, I’ll start singing them, then I’ll start typing them! I typically go for soft, slow, vibey music--Majid Jordan, Daniel Caesar, Miguel, 6LACK. Mostly hip-hop stuff.

9. Do you have any plans for any future fic ideas you’d like to pursue?

I do! I’m currently writing a post-doc Harry fic that I’m SO excited about. I also have plans for a rewrite of ALOTO and an orchestra AU.

10. Do you have any advice for other writers in the fandom?

I don’t know that I’m entirely qualified to give advice, but I will say this. The most important thing is to write for yourself. When you put your writing out into the world, you don’t owe anyone anything--especially in the fic community, where the vast majority of writers are putting hours of effort into content that they post with no expectation of compensation in return. Yeah, it gets pretty easy to get bogged down in the number of likes and reblogs or the number of asks you get after posting something. But in the end, you’re writing because you’ve found a story you want to tell, so focus on telling that story in the best way you can. Everything else will come later.

11. What is your writing process like?

I’m still trying to find what works best for me, honestly. I usually start with one big document that has all my notes, researching, outlines, etc. Then I’ll break a chapter/one-shot down into scenes--I’ll write specifics of what I want to include, bits of dialogue that have come to me that I’d like to incorporate, and the like. Then I’ll write a full first draft in that same document. Once that’s done, I move it to a separate document and start editing or I’ll send it to my betas. So a finished piece for me looks like one big planning/draft document plus individual docs for each part of a story.

12. What inspired you to write “Sit Back”? How did you come up with the story idea?

I saw a prompt on one of those AU posts that was something like “we’re an immortal couple who likes to kill each other for fun.” I thought it was brilliant. I cranked out the first chapter in less than a day because I was so excited about all the possibilities swirling around in my head. It’s been an exhilarating story to write because of all the different AUs I’ve essentially created in this one story--a Civil War AU, a Roman Empire AU, a 1900s AU. And the elements of mysticism sprinkled throughout have been the most fun--I didn’t think it’d be this enjoyable to create a fantasy world, but I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again. There’s still one part left, and it’s proving to be the most difficult to write mostly because I know it’s going to break me.

13. Tell us about your upcoming story, “All The Things Yet to Come”.

The idea popped into my head after I caught up with my old departmental advisor at my university. He got married last year to a doctoral student in the same department, and I’d often wondered how that relationship came to be. They’re both two fairly quiet, incredibly intelligent, charismatic people. I wanted to explore that a bit more--so ATTYTC was born. Also, I wanted to write something other than a Uni AU since I’ve written too many of those. Harry as an academic is so enthralling, and the Harry in this story is one of the more guarded versions of him that I’ve created. It’s definitely going to be a journey and I’m thrilled to share it with everyone.

14. What is one thing you wish you would’ve known before you started writing 1d fic?

I don’t think there’s anything I wish I’d known about the 1D community, but I do wish I’d known what my own personal limits were in terms of how much I could handle. I think I went into it with unrealistic expectations for the amount of content I could produce. I wish I’d known a little more about my writing process and how long it takes me to be satisfied with something. Probably would’ve saved me a lot of disappointment.

15. Who has been your favorite OFC to write? Why?

I think it has to be Sofia from ‘You’ve Woken Up My Heart.’ There are certain qualities about her that I admire so much--her drive, her wit, her diligence. She knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Because I’m also pursuing medicine, it was also fun to channel some of what I hope to be my future into her life. (Except I definitely don’t want to be a pediatrician. Yikes.)

16. Would you ever consider writing for any of the other boys?

I’ve written for Niall and Zayn in the past. I think there might even be a Louis one-shot from 2013 floating around somewhere in my drafts. At this point, however, I’ve been writing for Harry for so long, I feel like I’m pretty comfortable here.

[biopsychs]

Do you have any tips for learning on your own? I have a professor who is TERRIBLE, so I basically have to figure everything out myself, and I’m stressed lol

First of all, sorry for the late reply I was away for a few days and I wanted time to write a proper, helpful response :)

I definitely feel your pain. I had a horrible prof for introductory microbiology (and I love microbiology so much), so bad that his highest rated review on rate my prof simply says “run” . Buuut I made it through the class with a lot of self-learning and ended up with a decent mark!

Use any resources available to you at your university.

My TA for my microbiology lab was able to clarify some concepts for me (even concepts we only covered in lecture) and recommended some youtube channels that she used for understanding microbiology when she was an undergrad. 

Also, my uni has a math and science centre where students can go for tutoring and some course unions (e.g. chemistry course union) have upper year students hold office hours. Check and see if there are similar resources available to you!

Go to office hours and talk to your prof!

If they’re skipping from topic to topic in class or brushing over complicated concepts, ask them for clarification/help and try to give them constructive feedback (some profs are ridiculously oblivious and may not know they’re not allotting enough time for certain concepts). Try this even if your prof seems unapproachable – my microbiology prof was unnecessarily rude to students in class but apparently in office hours he was like a different person and was great at explaining concepts to students one-on-one.

Talk to students who have taken the class with that prof before.

If they’re really nice they may have old study materials they can lend to you. At the very least they’ll be able to tell you how they approached the class (and if their approach actually worked), outside resources they used for studying, how the prof tests, etc.

Use your time efficiently

I rarely ever skip class (maybe only a few times a semester, including any days I’m sick) but I ended up only going to maybe one microbiology lecture a week. This worked because my prof posted all of his powerpoint slides online. His lectures were a waste of my time because he would only read directly off the slides and he would go through ~100 slides all filled with writing during our 90 minute lecture. Even though I wasn’t going to lectures I would get up in the morning and study microbiology for at least the entire time I was supposed to be in lecture (basically just don’t treat a skipped class like free time, treat it like study time).

On the other hand, I attended every lecture and did quite well in my evolution and ecology class, whereas most people I knew skipped class because they found the subject boring and blamed the profs for their poor mark. Trust me I did not find the class too interesting either but going to class, putting in the extra effort to pay attention, and typing detailed notes with examples was worth it. Not going to class and taking textbook notes would have taken way more time and even then I couldn’t be sure that I had notes on everything we covered. If you find a class boring, sit in the front so you have to pay attention to the prof and sit with people who aren’t going to distract you.

^^So that’s two examples of when going to class is helpful or not helpful. I don’t know your specific situation so just do what you think will work best. When in doubt go to class (you can study on your own later). If you don’t go to class there’s no way to remedy that.

Make sure you prioritize! For some classes, the midterms and final are weighed so heavily compared to assignments that it’s better to put minimal effort into assignments and put more time towards studying (this also depends on the nature of your assignments – if the assignments help you understand lecture material then put the time in; if they don’t just get them done well but quickly). But if you have a class where a lab or term paper is worth a significant amount of your mark, put the time into that because it will help you boost your mark.

In terms of learning on your own,

Use your textbook and other resources

Before class, skim the chapter to get a sense of what you’ll be learning, get familiar with any vocab words, and review any concepts mentioned that you have learned in past classes. After class, take detailed textbook notes to supplement what you learned in lecture and draw out any important diagrams.

Alternatively, take detailed textbook notes before class and annotate them in lectures (highlight emphasized concepts, add anything new your prof mentions, star anything you still don’t understand). Whatever you end up doing, try to have a full set of notes within a day or two of class (you don’t want to just be adding info from the textbook to your notes a week later when the content is not fresh in your mind).

Also if your prof is all over the place and you’re not sure how to organize everything, use the textbook headings as a guide. The nice thing about textbooks is that they’re already organized in a logical way.

If your textbook is not written well or just makes things more confusing, you can always try to find another textbook for the subject. You can buy it or see if you can access it through your university! My uni’s library website allows me to access research journals and studies but I can also access some online textbooks that are normally hidden behind a paywall.

Use Quizlet! Quizlet is a website/app where you can make and study flashcards. Make your own or see if students in your class/past students have made flashcards. Also try searching for your textbook because a lot of universities will use the same textbook so students from other schools may have made flashcards sets as well.

In terms of resources available online, it really depends what you’re studying for (feel free to send me another message about what you’re studying for and there’s a chance I may know of some specific resources). Khan Academy and Crash Course cover a lot of subjects in their videos.

Record lectures

In my experience, a lot of bad profs simply go through content too quickly or test on things they’ve only mentioned once in lectures. If you can, record lectures so you can listen to them after class and add any info you might have missed.

Take good notes

This is kind of a given but I still find myself surprised sometimes when I see how disorganized other people’s notes are. This doesn’t mean your notes have to be pretty (although they can be), they just have to be functional. For me this means a typed study guide for each chapter that includes material from lectures and the textbook. I bold important/unfamiliar words and use one or two colours to emphasize certain things (if you type your notes you can do this on your computer or highlight a printed copy of your notes after). I bold and highlight anything my profs mention in class about tests (things like “this would be a good question for the final” or write down their answer if someone asks them how a concept will be tested [i.e. multiple choice, written answer]). Also make sure you include examples for concepts – if an example didn’t make sense in class, figure it out and write it down in detail. Organize your notes for each chapter in the same way (e.g. don’t change around colours or heading styles). Studying for finals is so much easier when you don’t have to worry about reading miscellaneous textbook sections to understand a concept

Form a study group

Chances are if you’re having trouble with the class/prof other people are too. Form a study group with people from your class and try to meet once or twice a week (I also want to add that it usually works best to only have a few people in a study group; too many people and you’ll all get distracted). Study a bit on your own before so that you have the basics/easy parts down and then work through understanding more difficult concepts with your study group. Go through your notes and any practice questions together, draw diagrams out on a whiteboard, and just be there for each other.

Also make sure your study group consists of people who won’t bring you down. Some people just want to constantly complain about something and this may only increase your negative feelings towards the class and therefore towards studying.. Yeah the class might suck and you can vent about it sometimes, just make sure this isn’t hindering your learning and studying.

Even if you can’t form a daily study group, try to study with friends before a midterm or have a group chat where you can all ask each other questions.

Don’t study last minute – make sure you have a solid understanding of new material learned each week

If you know your class is going to be difficult, don’t let yourself get behind! By the end of every week (or weekend) you should have thoroughly studied all the new material covered in lectures that week. Sometimes a class seem more difficult than it truly is if you’re trying to learn new material without understanding the old material (also review old content throughout the semester b/c it’ll help you remember content much better when it comes to studying for finals).

Anyways I hope that was helpful! If you have any more questions please let me know :)

[sidewritings]

Fortunate Negotiations

Prompt: This post here

Pairings: Analogical, Royality

Genres: Fluff, romance,

Warnings: anxiety mention, college education mention

Word Count: 1370

Author’s Note: This is my gift for @analogically-prinxiety .  Happy @fander-secret-santa !!!  For quality control, this fic was edited by the wonderful @tinysidestrashcaptain who was also good enough to help me devise a title for this story.  Enjoy!

Logan straightened his tie one last time, checking his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door. He and Virgil were going to dinner at a moderately upscale restaurant with Roman and Patton, and while the four of them usually got together at least once a week for informal hangout activities, this was their first time going out as two couples on a double date.

Logan frowned at his reflection, picked up a comb, and started fixing his hair. Roman and Patton had gotten together a month into their first semester at Uni and been a couple ever since. He had met Patton in an ethics class and been introduced to Roman shortly thereafter.  Logan and Virgil had met at University as well in an English class where they had been partnered for peer editing exercises. The four of them had quickly become close friends, even sharing an apartment for the last couple years of their undergrad programs.

After graduation,  Roman and Patton had purchased a house together. Patton had gone on to open Pattonly Adorable, a daycare service for children, with his double major in business and child development. Roman had gotten a job running the local theater and occasionally helped Patton with the daycare run out of the first floor of their home.

Logan had gone on to graduate school for a masters degree in astronomy and had taken a job at the University's planetarium immediately after receiving his second degree. He'd kept the apartment the four of them had shared, taking out a four-year lease on the place after Roman and Patton had bought their house, and asked Virgil to stay with him. Virgil had a degree in web design and could work from home, designing, maintaining, and fixing websites and social media accounts for various companies.

Logan checked his hair in the mirror and, satisfied, reached for the lens wipes to clean his glasses. Logan had only admitted his romantic feelings for Virgil to himself a year ago, but Virgil had been dating a nice young librarian at the time and he'd kept his feelings to himself. When Virgil had come home strangely quiet and very early from one of his dates, Logan had watched Steven Universe with him over tubs of ice cream and let Virgil tell him about his breakup. He still hadn't said anything. He'd only asked Virgil out a week ago when Virgil had made an account on Grindr.

He wasn't proud of it, but Logan had made an account too, and asked Virgil out through the app. Not his most shining moment, but it had worked. Virgil had shown up for their date and had not been at all surprised when StarProf72 had turned out to be him. They'd been together ever since that first awful date. Logan had spilled hot coffee on both of them, it had started raining while they walked home together, Virgil had tripped and headbutted Logan instead of a good night kiss. They both laughed about it and Virgil had made a joke that he was definitely the right person, since he still wanted to be with him after that terrible date.

Logan checked his glasses and put them back on. His appearance was satisfactory and he was determined that this date would go much smoother than their first. He would not order hot beverages or anything that could stain fabric if spilled. They were taking his car (Virgil didn't drive) and there was an umbrella in the trunk and one in the glove compartment. There wasn't really anything he could do to prevent Virgil from tripping but he intended to stay alert for any and all mishaps tonight and be prepared for anything.

Logan went to Virgil's room and knocked on the door. There was no answer and a quick peek inside showed that Virgil wasn't there and the bed was stripped. Odd, Virgil usually did laundry on Monday. Logan frowned a bit and closed Virgil's door. They should be leaving soon, perhaps he was already waiting for him. He went down the stairs and turned into the living room only to stop abruptly at the sight before him.

Well, he'd found Virgil's blankets and what looked like every pillow and cushion from the living room. There was an elaborate blanket and pillow fort complete with LED string lights inside taking up most of the living room floor.

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

He wasn't surprised when Virgil's head appeared in what he guessed was the 'door' to the pillow fort.

“Logan!” Virgil smiled at him, not an uncommon expression these days, but it was too forced and too bright. “I just finished the fort, what do you think?”

Logan noted the bags under Virgil's eyes, the slight edge to his voice, and the absence of creases at the corners of his eyes. He was definitely faking the smile and probably struggling with his anxiety again.

“It's a very well-constructed fort,” Logan replied, “you should be able to enjoy it when we get back. Are you ready?”

Virgil's smile vanished as he ducked back into the fort. “Not really feeling it, pocket protector. Go without me.”

Logan frowned. He understood Virgil had social anxiety which from time to time made him anxious about spending time with people, but these were their friends who had seen each other through illness and panic attacks and sleep deprivation and all manner of difficulties. Logan had thought they'd moved beyond this.

“That would rather defeat the purpose of a double date,” Logan replied, sitting at the foot of the stairs. “Virgil, please get out of that pillow fort. We’re supposed to have dinner with friends!”

“Counter-offer,” Virgil's voice came from inside the fort, “you join me, we rule this pillow kingdom together, watch Hocus Pocus, and eat popcorn for dinner.”

Logan chuckled, the offer was tempting but they'd made plans. At least Virgil was bargaining now; he could work with that.

“Counter-Counter Offer: You come out of there, we go to dinner as a couple with our friends, then we come back and cuddle in the pillow fort and watch any movie of your choice.”

“Counterproposal to your counter-counter offer: We cancel fancy dinner plans with Sir-Sing-Alot and the love of his life and just do our normal hang-out this weekend, then order takeout and cuddle in the fort, my treat.”

Logan groaned. Negotiations were not going his way at all.

“Why don't you want to go to dinner, Verge? Is it the restaurant? Is it...” Logan didn't want to voice that terrible little thought in the back of his mind, but it was a concern he'd have to voice to get rid of, “Is it me? Is it that you don't want to be seen as a couple with me?”

Virgil crawled out of the pillow fort and over to Logan who he hugged tight.  Now that he was out of the pillow fort, Logan could see he was wearing a nice pair of black slacks and a plain black tee shirt.  

“Of course not, Logan. You're my boyfriend, and I'm proud to be with you.”

Logan took a slow steadying breath, “Okay, then why-”

“I got makeup on my last clean shirt that's nice enough to wear to this restaurant.”

Logan looked at Virgil to see if he was joking. At the earnest expression on Virgil's face, Logan tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle. Next thing he knew they were both howling with laughter, clutching each other and gasping for breath.

“My pillow fort for a clean shirt.” Virgil deadpanned when they'd both finally calmed down enough to speak.

Logan sniggered and stood up, pulling his ridiculous boyfriend with him.

“Come on, you can borrow one of my shirts. We're going to be late.”

“Fine,” Virgil said, still smiling as he followed Logan back up to his room, “but we still get to cuddle in the pillow fort afterward, okay?”

“We'll resume negotiations after dinner,” Logan said, but he knew they'd be cuddled up in Virgil's blanket fort later. The rest was just enjoyable banter over the details.

Tag List: @aikogumi @justanotherpurplebutterfly @anxietyisahufflepuff @tinysidestrashcaptain @logan-must-be-serious @myspace-anxiety @andy-the-anon @starving-for-stability @celiawhatsherlastname @emo-space-trash @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @silver-owl413 @bubblycricket @sanderssunshinesides @bbcanimephangirl

[general-du-vallon]

the last one of @c-b-strike​‘s prompts, I’ll just have to get some more :) Porthos has a secret admirer who writes him nice letters and lovely poetry. There are shenanigans to figure out who on earth it is. Hint: it’s Athos. [posting properly this time I’m such a dumb ass]

Porthos gets a fair amount of post, which is unusual in this day and age but between GP and other doctorly stuff, uni stuff, trying to get his name changed on everything stuff, he gets a bunch of letters. He’s got a knack of telling what’s in the envelope and most of the time he’ll just confirm he knows and chuck it on the pile in the wire basket he keeps on the kitchen counter for it all. This one is different. It’s not the handwritten envelope, stuff from the GP often comes like that. Nor is it the fancy script, contrary to stereotype his doctor has a very nice hand. Nor is it the lack of return address, he asked years and years ago that his GP office send stuff anonymized and they’ve never stopped. No, what makes this one different is that it’s in a lilac envelope and is sealed. A proper old fashioned wax seal. With an imprint of lips. It says S.W.A.L.K underneath in the same fancy hand. Porthos sits at the breakfast table and stares at it.

“What’s that, baby?” his mum says, coming in already dressed for work, yawning. She’s in court today so he’s made her coffee in a carry-out mug and a bacon butty in a greaseproof-paper bag to take with her. She spots it and smiles, kissing his hair on her way through. “You’re good to me, Porthos.”

“I dunno,” Porthos says. “I mean I know I’m good to you, you deserve to have people be good to you, I dunno what this is though.”

“Is Aramis up and out, or abed till two?” Marie-Cessette says.

She’s lived with them for the past four years, moving in after a rough patch when she’d just needed a week or two to get back to her feet. Porthos has since converted what used to be a conservatory into a bedroom and ensuit bathroom and kitchenette for her, her old bedroom now a livingroom. He has effectively persuaded her to stay forever. She’s had no choice but to get used to Aramis’s frankly very weird sleeping habits. Porthos shrugs, still examining his letter. He doesn’t want to break the seal that seems like bad luck.

“What’s swalk?” he asks his mum, instead. “Is it, like, post office code?”

“Haven’t you read Going Postal, baby?” Marie Cessette asks, tutting at him.

“When I was about thirteen. Why?” Porthos says, running through various Terry Pratchetts before he thinks he’s got the right one, looking for... “Oh, sealed with a loving kiss.”

“There’s a Terry for everything,” Marie Cessette says.

She kisses his hair again on her way out, talking to Aramis briefly in the hallway as she leaves.

“Am I late?” Porthos asks when Aramis zombies his way in, hair a nest.

“No. Coffee? Anne called, gotta take Lou to school,” Aramis says, making for the coffee machine. He lets out a distressed sound, finding no coffee there. Porthos holds up his mug (mostly full) and Aramis comes to guzzle that, slumping at the table. “You think you can call Athos about the coffee machine today?”

“He’s coming over for breakfast, sometime. Whenever he wakes up,” Porthos says.

“Academics. Tch. Why are you always up so early, if you can sleep for hours like Athos does?”

“I teach, he doesn’t. I write better in the morning, if he tried to write in the morning it’d probably end in some kind of pencil related injury, he’s worse than you are,” Porthos says, running his thumb over the letter seal.

“What’s it?” Aramis says, taking the letter from Porthos’s grip. “Hmm, cool. Advert I guess?”

He snatches up the knife Porthos was using for butter and slides it under the seal.

“No!” Porthos says, snatching it back. “It’s mine, it’s illegal to open someone else’s post! You broke it!”

Aramis picks up the seal and flicks it over his knuckles, then flips it to Porthos with a shrug. It’s intact, all one piece. Porthos sets it on the table by his plate and pulls out a sheet of paper. A bunch of pressed flowers tumble out with it, which makes him smile. He picks one up.

“Porthos, what is the letter? I’m going to stab you with a butter knife,” Aramis says, impatient as always.

Porthos looks at the letter, flushes dark and, just for the sake of it, refuses to tell Aramis a single thing. He gathers up his seal and the flowers and the letter and takes it all back to his bedroom, ignoring Aramis’s indignant cries of distress and his knocking when he follows Porthos up. Porthos slides the bolt across with a grin and sits on the bed. Being able to blush on command is the best skill he ever learnt. He opens the sheet of paper again. Last time he noticed it was a poem but not much more, this time he reads it. In neat, small letters, each carefully and painstakingly written out (Porthos can see faint, pencil lines left delineating little boxes for each letter) it says:

Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ve never met anyone

Quite like you. Share my breath, take my hand,

You’ve always been my dearest friend,

Beautiful grace.

Whoever wrote the letter seems to have given up there. Porthos can see pencil marks where things have been erased, but can’t make anything out. He stares at the paper, then turns it over. There’s no signature, not even a ‘from your secret admirer’. He checks the envelope: it’s clearly marked for him. He got a secret admirer letter once, in year nine, but it had just been from Flea who felt bad he hadn’t got any valentines. Their school did a thing where you could send an anonymous rose and she’d had a whole bouquet and he’d had none. He recognised her handwriting on the note, but he never told her he knew. Or that he had received a rose, after school, given to him shyly by Jamie McNab who he played football with and who also sometimes snuck into the LGBT club things. They’d dated for a whole week. Other than that, though, most of his partners haven’t really gone in for romantic gestures. d’Artagnan, his current date-friend-person, sometimes sends him heart emojis and always buys him cake wherever they go (and when there’s going to be no cake d’Artagnan usually brings home bakes along, sometimes from his wife. d’Artagnan bakes better than Constance, though Porthos will never say so). That’s sort of romantic. Not anonymized poetry romantic, though. If that’s even what this is. Porthos has a look at the envelope again and then reads the poem. The doorbell goes and Porthos wanders down, leaving the paper and envelope on the bed.

“Hey, Athos,” Porthos says, embracing the grouchy man standing on his doorstep, engulfing him. When he emerges from Porthos’s arms he looks a tiny bit less grouchy.

“Ugh,” Athos says. “Hungover.”

Porthos heads for the kitchen to make coffee on the stovetop. Athos grumbles after him, a long string of complaints (too light, too hot, where’s Aramis? I’m cold, hug me again, why aren’t you hugging me?) trailing after him. Porthos pauses to hug Athos and then sits on the countertop. Athos stands beside him, eyes half closed.

“Good night at least?” Porthos asks.

“Ish,” Athos says. “Some of my undergrad students showed up.”

Porthos gives a dramatic shudder and presses a hand over his heart in horror. Athos shoves him off the counter for it. Porthos sits at the table and watches while Athos first downs far-too-hot coffee and then pokes his head in with the coffee machine and prods about a bit.

“Why don’t you pull it out from under the cupboards?” Porthos asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Athos straightens and bangs his head, curses at Porthos, then pulls the machine out muttering something then eventually admitting to not thinking of it. Porthos has seen Athos do amazing things, build everything from a little boat with a wind up ‘motor’ out of debris on the beach all the way to, well, the conservatory extension on the house. He teaches architecture but he’s done engineering stuff, mechanics, set design, carpentry. He’s been at the uni for three years, which is the longest Porthos has known him stick to a job.

“What’ve you done to this, babe?” Athos mutters, not really paying attention. He only calls Porthos ‘babe’ when he’s distracted.

“Dunno, blame Aramis or Mum. I usually just do it in the cafetiere or the fancy stove one,” Porthos says.

“Your mother is never to blame.”

“Aramis, then.”

“Mm. That sounds true.”

“You’ll never guess what I got in the post this morning,” Porthos says, and tells Athos about the letter.

Athos bumps his head again and swears. Creatively. In four languages.

“Uh, it was definitely posted, huh? Stamp and all?” Athos asks.

“Yeah,” Porthos says. He hadn’t looked close but he noticed the stamp. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just, I had one once,” Athos says, vaguely, going back to the coffee machine. “Why aren’t you grading or something?”

“Papers are boring,” Porthos points out. “Besides, I want you to help me solve this mystery.”

Athos does not help. That’s ok, though, he’s got to finish fixing the coffee machine or pay the gambling debt he owes Porthos from the last teachers’ poker night, so Porthos has a captive audience for his thoughts. Athos manages to get his fingers slammed in a cupboard or something.

“So, Netflix and chill tomorrow?” Porthos says, when he’s done going through possibilities (not many).

“I’ve told you, that really doesn’t mean watching TV with ice cream,” Athos says. “And, no, I have a date with my sofa, we shall become one. I’m done, this should work now I’m gonna test it I want a cappuccino.”

Porthos gets the little coffee pod thing from the drawer his Mum keeps them in (he knows better than to steal Aramis’s coffee, last time he did that Aramis threatened to cut his fingers off. He was very convincing). When he gets close enough, to pass over the coffee, Athos wraps an arm around him and kisses his cheek.

“What’s this for?” Porthos asks, leaning into the hug.

“I’m affectionate sometimes,” Athos says, defensive. Then he grimaces. “Plus I may not be the most with it, today. I thought you were going in for a hug.”

“I was handing you coffee. This is nice, though,” Porthos says.

He can’t help laughing and Athos prods him in the ribs and wriggles away, making his drink and stalking off to the livingroom Porthos and Aramis share.

**

The next letter is ee cummings. Porthos lies on his bed the evening it arrives and presses it to his chest, shutting his eyes. He knows the poem, knows the words. Like they’re soaked through into him.

in the rain-

darkness, the sunset

being sheathed i sit and

think of you

the holy

city which is your face

your little cheeks the streets

of smiles

your eyes half-

thrush

half-angel and your drowsy

lips where float flowers of kiss

and

there is the sweet shy pirouette

your hair

and then

your dancesong

soul. rarely-beloved

a single star is

uttered,and i

think

   of you

There’s a post-script taking issue with ‘rarely-beloved’. Porthos is pretty sure that’s not what ee cummings meant but he appreciates the ‘always beloved, really’ all the same. He’s not sure why but he hasn’t told anyone about these, not since telling Athos about the first one. Aramis asked questions but gave over when Porthos admitted it was an advert and he’d been winding Aramis up. Aramis had been on his way to church with Marie-Cessette at the time and in response he’d just said he’d pray for Porthos’s soul. Porthos rings Athos, now.

“Have I mentioned how much I like ee cummings recently?” Porthos says, as greeting.

“Nn,” Athos says.

“Are you hungover still, from the day before yesterday?” Porthos asks, laughing. It’s Sunday, he hasn’t seen Athos since Friday night when he’d had to literally carry him from the taxi to the bedroom after karaoke night. “You drink too much.”

“I’m a fish,” Athos says. “cummings?”

“Another anonymous note,” Porthos says, and reads it out, taking his time and making it all musical the way ee cummings does on the recordings.

“Oh fuck,” Athos says.

“What? It’s nice,” Porthos says. “I think it’s someone who knows me.”

“Because of ee cummings? Christ, Porthos, that’s such a cliche poet for love poems,” Athos says.

“Yeah, but I really like him,” Porthos says.

“No shit, I never would’ve guessed, you never ever mention him,” Athos says.

“You’re in a right mood. I was gonna invite you to Netflix and chill, I have Ben and Jerries, but I’m gonna invite my Mum instead,” Porthos says.

He hangs up before Athos can tell him, yet again, that he’s using that phrase wrong. His Mum is quite happy to watch the new Ghostbusters and eat ice cream with him, just like when he was a kid only now there are women in it. She didn’t know Leslie Jones was in it and when she comes on screen his mum cheers. Then spends most of the rest of the films letting Porthos know just how attractive she finds ‘Leslie’. Porthos is a little unsure how to feel about agreeing with that. They both enjoy watching Chris Hemsworth, too, one of, Porthos is sure, approximately three men in the world his mum finds attractive.

“You feeling alright, baby?” she asks him, over the credits.

“Mm? Yeah?”

“You’re very quiet, tonight,” she says. “You’ve never been quiet.”

Porthos’s mind flashes back to the time his Mum came charging down to the kitchen in a rage for him having a party after she’d said no parties, when she was right upstairs, and then been incredibly miffed to find it was just Porthos and Flea there. He was never the quietest, that’s true enough.

“Just thinking about poetry,” he says.

“You should do some writing again,” She says. “You write beautiful things.”

“Mum,” Porthos groans, slumping down into her sofa. “I don’t write poetry. I was an angsty teenager when I did.”

“Poetry is very cool,” she says.

“I teach it, I know this,” Porthos says. “Oh, I was teaching a class on Maya Angelou Friday. I know you love her.”

“I do. Are you taking your Athos out to dinner tomorrow? Has he asked you on a date yet?”

“Mum!”

Porthos goes upstairs and shuts his bedroom door. He can still hear her laughing.

(He can’t hold it against her, she got a call from a client today, he knows it’s a sad case, laughter is good).

**

The third letter ends up in his intray at work, no stamp. No one can tell him how it got there. He doesn’t ask too extensively because he doesn’t really want to draw attention to the fact that he’s receiving love poetry. He’s beginning to be a little uncertain about it. Romantic things in real life feel a tiny bit creepy. Or, another possibility that has crossed his mind, something a young person might do. God he hopes it’s not one of his students. He puts up his ‘in a meeting’ sign and flips the lock on his door and then opens the letter, spreading the paper on his desk.

The arch of your step blazes, you shine, burnishing gold.

I will press my cheek to your cheek, skin against skin,

Hold close to me I will bear the weight of you, joy with

the feel of you, of your heart beating against my palm.

Every moment soars, I soar with you, you are unquenchable,

Bright catch in my heart sheer blue skies.

I touch my lips to hold your smile to mine, your love

Against my breast I hold you there, hold you. Cannot

Hold you.

Porthos carefully folds the paper and tucks it into his pocket. He can see a shadow at the door, behind the comic he has up to block the window. He’s about to go let the student in when an acerbic grumble comes and then a thump on the door.

“Porthos, let me in, are you wanking in there?”

Porthos leaps up and throws the door open, ready to drag Athos in and chew him out for saying that in front of a student, but the only other person out there is Treville, busy having hysterics. Porthos scowls at both of them. Athos looks up at him, unblinking, his eyes look red. Porthos gestures him in and points him to the chair in the corner then turns to Treville, now catching his breath.

“It wasn’t that funny,” Porthos says. Treville’s his head of department but he dated Porthos’s mother once (he assures Porthos that has nothing to do with Porthos being hired here) and Porthos has known him for decades. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Treville says. “I was stopping by for a chat but it can wait, seeing as you’re... busy.”

Treville breezes away, cackling to himself. Porthos heads back into his office and shuts the door, leaving the ‘in a meeting’ sign up. He’s in a meeting with Athos. A meeting about why Athos’s eyes are red.

“Are you drunk?” Porthos asks.

“No.”

“Hungover?”

“No.”

“Should I be worried that I genuinely have to ask those questions in the middle of a work-day?”

“No. It’s not a problem.”

“So.”

“Would you believe hayfever?” Athos says, giving a hopeful little smile. Porthos doesn’t answer, he’s not going to bother with that. Athos drops the smile and looks at his hands, frowning. “My head of department observed my teaching this morning. The seminar didn’t go very well.”

“Oh, ok,” Porthos says. Athos usually cries after being observed, that’s ok then. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“Ok, let’s talk about my thing, then. I’m still getting poetry in the post, unsigned. What if it’s one of my students?”

“It’s a juvenile thing, to send anonymous poetry,” Athos says, surprisingly biting. “It’s a bit pathetic if it is a grown man. Or woman. Or… enby.”

“I dunno,” Porthos says, a little taken aback by the anger in Athos’s voice.

“Truly, what kind of adult does that? It’s pitiful. Is it even good poetry? Not that it makes a difference.”

Athos has a lot more to say, ugly things pouring out of his mouth until he’s breathless, arms around himself, choking on sobs. Porthos gapes at him for long moments before shaking off the surprise and going over to soak up Athos’s tears. It’s like grief pouring out of him into Porthos’s sweater, one arm still tight over his chest the other clinging around Porthos’s waist. Porthos cries, too, helpless, having no idea why Athos is so distraught.

“It’ll be ok, it’ll be alright,” Porthos says, rocking Athos, arms around him. “I’ve got you, I’m here. We’ll be ok. We’ll be ok.”

Athos nods, shuddering. Porthos sniffs and wipes at his face, looking around for tissues. There’s a box on his desk but he doesn’t want to let go of Athos.

“It was quite a nice poem,” he whispers, instead.

“I don’t want to know,” Athos says, shivering but crying less now.

“Can I read it to you?”

“If you must.”

Porthos takes it from his pocket, unfolding it carefully, and read it out. Athos goes quiet against him, under Porthos’s hand, and sighs when Porthos is done reading.

“You make it beautiful,” Athos says.

“What do you mean?” Porthos asks.

“When you read it, it’s beautiful. I’m sorry I came in here and fell to pieces, I’m sorry I was rude.”

“That’s ok. I’m not sensitive about the odd poetry letters,” Porthos says. “Is it bad that… I quite like them. I like being thought of. I don’t know who’s sending them.”

“Would it change things?”

“I don’t know. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok.”

“We’re ok, yeah? Yes?”

Athos nods and sits up, letting Porthos go get the tissues. Porthos kneels beside him, worried by the rush of uncontainable emotion. Things going wrong and being observed when things are going wrong is stressful but that felt like it had been building a while. Porthos decides to be more insistent about Netflix and chill, in the future. Maybe he’ll take Athos to dinner. Ice cream, TV, and proper meals. That’s what Athos needs. And possibly less coffee and alcohol but that’s fairly a given with Athos.

**

The next letter comes soon, dropped in the letter box while he’s at work, a page torn out of a lined pad this time but the writing no less careful and neat. No more familiar. No more telling. Porthos reads the poem written on the scrap sat in the back garden.

I think I was searching for treasures or stones

in the clearest of pools

when your face …

when your face,

like the moon in a well

where I might wish …

might well wish

for the iced fire of your kiss;

only on water my lips, where your face …

where your face was reflected, lovely,

not really there when I turned

to look behind at the emptying air …

the emptying air.

Sadness settles over Porthos’s shoulders with the closing of the poem. Carol Ann Duffy, he’d know her anywhere. He can remember listening to the radio, an interview with Jackie Kay, and being astounded that she and Carol Ann Duffy were both queer. Lying on his bedroom floor, nineteen, and being struck dumb by it. He thinks of Her and Late Love by Jackie Kay, two he’s read often. Love poetry is so longing.

He’s still sat out there, staring at his love poem, when his mum gets back and comes to ask if he’s planning on making dinner. Which means he is to cook for her, so long as he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t. He puts in his headphones and calls Athos. There’s no reply so he sends a text and puts on the radio while he cooks. Athos still hasn’t texted back by the time dinner’s ready, or by the time he heads up to bed. He sends another text before falling asleep, though it’s not unusual for Athos to not text back so he doesn’t worry. When the morning passes without a reply he’s a little confused, and when Athos leaves the staff room as Porthos enters, as if seeing him coming, not even pausing to say hello, misgivings set in. By the next morning he is one hundred percent certain that Athos is giving him the silent treatment.

“What kind of grown ass man,” Porthos rants, to d’Artagnan, “gives his best friend the silent treatment? I don’t even know what I did.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” d’Artagnan agrees. He’s had a glass of wine and he doesn’t drink much so he’s now tipsy. He scooted around to Porthos’s side of the table and has laid his head on Porthos’s shoulder, knitted their fingers together. He’s not very interested in Porthos’s dilemma. “Damn shame.”

“You’re not even listening,” Porthos says.

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan says, tipping his head back on Porthos’s shoulder to look up at him then pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’m a little drunk. I can tell you’re not very happy, maybe I can cheer you up.”

“No thanks,” Porthos says, sighing.

He wouldn’t mind something… to be held, some kind of physical intimacy, but with d’Artagnan that usually comes with sex, which isn’t on Porthos’s agenda tonight. d’Artagnan sits up, yawning, and suggests they get the bill. It’s not d’Artagnan’s fault. When Porthos started dating him, Porthos made it clear that he didn’t want that kind of relationship. He didn’t want to be anyone’s emotional support, didn’t want that kind of intimacy, didn’t want that from anyone. He can’t now just expect it all to change because his best mate’s being a dick. He drives d’Artagnan home and goes to sit on the sofa in his mum’s living-room and watch TV with her.

“What sort of mothering are you after, Porthos? I’m tired,” she says.

“None,” Porthos assures.

Untruthfully. His mother’s a wonderful, amazing woman, she brought him up on her own and gave him all the love in the world. She’s always made Porthos feel like he’s the best thing to happen to her, made him feel intelligent and special and beautiful. But she’d also had her own life, her own things going on. He hadn’t always got what he needed from her. She hadn’t always had the time or inclination or patience to give him hugs, listen to his stories, give him attention. She’d made sure he had people in his life beside her, love from other people. He never lacked. She just hasn’t always mothered him, as much as she’d tried to be a mother she was getting her PhD, going to do law exams and working in a solicitors’ office until she could afford to become a barrister, working for various causes, meeting people. He remembers fondly her whirlwind romance with Anette, who had plenty of time for Porthos and motherhood. Marie-Cessette breaks into his thoughts with a sigh, arms coming around him and pulling him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” She says. “What happened, baby? I’m here.”

“Athos being childish, he’s not talking to me or something I don’t know,” Porthos says. “Bit tired.”

She tuts and assures him everything will be fine, then switches the TV to the news and carries on eating crisps, one arm around Porthos. He sits with her for a while, letting his eyes go heavy and the comfort of her closeness soothe him toward sleep. She gently chastises him for scheming to fall asleep on her sofa and reminds him that she can no longer carry him to bed. He goes up, bumping into Aramis on the stairs. Aramis embraces him absently, phone held to his ear talking to someone. He pauses, letting Porthos go and taking him in, frowning. Porthos waves him away and carries on to bed. He sleeps well and wakes up refreshed.

*

In the morning there’s another letter, stamped and everything. Porthos examines it, it has a seal again, a heart this time, and SWALK written across underneath. There’s something different, though. Porthos looks again, frowning, and thinks back. This one, he decides, has a stamp but also has been stamped. The others just had a stamp. No wavy black ink lines, no round post-office sign, nothing. They were probably not posted.

“Ether clever, or a little bit daft,” Porthos says. “Or both. What a waste of a good stamp.”

He’s sitting in his and Aramis’s livingroom, on his own, Brooklyn 99 on the TV but on low, he’s rewatching series three on Netflix and he’s seen it often before. He carefully removes the seal, keeping it to put with the other, and draws out the paper. It’s thin, this time, almost tissue, and there are love-heart candies that spill out with it. They all just say ‘love’ on them. He eats one while he reads.

To hold your hand on a sunny day,

Like our fingers are dipped in the sunshine,

Warmth thick across your broad shoulders,

Lighting your cheek and eyes and the beauty

That you bring everywhere you go.

You bring colour when you pass, riots

Of flowers bloom in your wake you make

Me see so much sheer beauty, you are beauty.

Pitch-perfect, rich toned, every note in place,

The music winds down, and I

Oh, I miss you. I cannot touch you, my hand

Is cold from where I am not touching you.

The heat between your shoulder blades and the way

Your shirt draws the lines of your body, I

Can’t reach out.

I am dust, you bring my earth rain and teach me

Growing things and your sunshine blooms me.

Beneath you I am blossom, breathed into wind.

But I miss you, I cannot hold you, I am

Un-courage.

Courage holds your bones strong where I shatter,

Your eyes bright with everything that matters,

Words come brave and bright and you stand,

I see you tall and unwavered, against the setting

Sun. Warrior, battle-hearted, strung with

The roar of the sea.

Porthos frowns. Then he folds the paper. This one is right. He doesn’t give up, he is like the sea. He doesn’t back down. Nor does he let people get away with being arseholes to him. Besides which, he knows exactly who calls him ‘battle-hearted’. What a stupid phrase.

*

“Athos de la Fere you coward!” he roars, bursting into Athos’s office.

He’s built up a good head of steam on his way in and now he’s ready for battle. Athos looks startled, eyes very wide, gaping up at Porthos. The student he’s got with him looks even more shocked. Bugger.

“Doctor Vallon,” Athos says. “Good of you to drop by. However, you have interru-”

“Yes, I can see,” Porthos says, turning to the student. “Sorry about that. Athos, you better find me when you’re done.”

“I better had,” Athos agrees.

Porthos nods firmly and leaves for his own office. He has a class to teach, he gathers his things and turns up early, setting up with the white board and projector. He has two back to back and then a meeting and when he returns to his office, Athos is there, the visitor chair drawn up to the desk so he can mark papers, a huge mug of coffee at his elbow.

“Hello,” Athos says, looking up. “Are you done with the dramatics?”

“Me?” Porthos says, outraged. “You!” Porthos can’t quite say it, he’s not sure he believes it. “You stopped talking to me, avoided me. What the hell? You’re an adult. You can’t punish me with refusing to respond. And- ”

“I know,” Athos says, holding up a hand and getting a word in edgewise. “The internet informed me. I hadn’t actually meant to give you the silent treatment. I have anxiety.”

“Athos!”

“I projected thoughts onto you and thought I was making myself as little nuisance as possible.”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a reason, not an excuse. Not ‘I was right because of this’ but ‘it was me, not you’. I love you. I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose for the world, Porthos,” Athos says, very earnest.

“I didn’t eat enough food, I was hungry and tired,” Porthos says, grudgingly.

“Just … in general?” Athos asks, frowning.

“I was emotional.”

“Oh. Sorry. I brought you a chocolate bar to apologize but I sat on it and it melted. It was a bit gross.”

Porthos laughs, forgiving Athos easily in the end. He looks so bewildered and helpless about the chocolate bar. Porthos perches on the edge of his desk and huffs, shaking his head.

“You’re something else, de la Fere. What am I gonna do with you? All that poetry, my god. I’m right here, just talk to me for heaven’s sake,” Porthos says, too fond of Athos to be anything except awfully warm about it.

Athos turns around and tries to leave the office. All he manages is to walk into the door because he’s not looking where he’s going and Porthos closed it. Porthos goes to grab him and make sure he hasn’t hurt himself then hug him, laughing. Athos pushing his face against Porthos’s shoulder and his arms come up around Porthos’s back to hold onto his shirt there and probably wrinkle it.

“I am inept,” Athos says.

“Completely. In every lovely way,” Porthos assures. “Fuck me am I glad it were you and not someone creepy.”

“I am creepy.”

“Not really.”

“I was… So drunk. I forgot I sent it, that first time, until you said. I put a stamp on and just slid it in your door on my drunken meander home. I meant to sign it, I think,” Athos says. “Then, I guess I liked the idea.”

“You write terrible poetry,” Porthos says, admiringly, stroking Athos’s hair. “I adore it. I really like them.”

Athos nods, laughing a little. He huffs again, sighing, leaning into Porthos.

“I really do love you,” Athos whispers. “I can’t seem to help myself, you just engulf my entire life and all my thoughts.”

“I bloom you,” Porthos says, comfortably, incredibly pleased with himself. “Turn you all blossoms. Sounds so sexy, gonna tremble you all apart till you’re just petals, darling.”

Athos finally removes his face from Porthos’s jumper and breathes in, closing his eyes, lips against Porthos’s cheek and beard and then against his lips, careful, questioning. He thinks ‘yes’ and then Athos asks and Porthos says it aloud, and Athos’s lips are back, mouth against Porthos’s.

[verbigeratingidiolalia]

oof

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Basically I feel like I come to tumblr whenever I need to rant or like get something off my chest. Life updates: I’m in grad school now to get my PhD in cancer biology. I knew the university I was attending would be a super PWI... and all of the shit show that accompanies this. Long story short, I thought even though this uni was a PWI, that it was one of the better choices for diversity and inclusion by far (this still might be true, but it still is majorly lacking). Acclimating to the yt academic environment is already really hard, and I just have never felt like I had a place of belonging all throughout my life/ schooling so I feel like I have a lot of compounded issues ranging from family, to being in academia, and friends/ school groups. So I’m just going to like go through them all in different posts and dump my thoughts because I feel like I have no one to articulate this to AT ALL and it sucks.

Academia: Like I said before, I am about to matriculate into my 3rd year in my PhD program and I have never felt so lost. When I first applied here, some of my friends had gone to the summer program for undergrads and said the diversity office was amazing and supportive. After all of my other interviews (like 8 others) for either cancer/ cell biology programs at other schools who basically told me they didn’t have any diversity office/ support or that they’d need my efforts to make their programs better I felt like the university that I chose would be the best choice because it seemed to have a solid advisor and office in place.

Although this might be true superficially, I have never been so wrong. I have never really felt welcome in the diversity office where I am after they asked me for my background. It seemed that once they found that I was a multiracial student who didn’t match the criteria of students that they commonly recruited, there was a big divide and lapse in communication. The director of the office actually ignored me in public spaces for months at graduate events after this. They were known for being personable and gossipy, which really appealed to a lot of the students I knew and befriended in my graduate program/ school, but being on the other side of that just felt so othering. It’s strange because that’s supposed to be their job to support all URM students-- and it still really hurts. 

Moreover, since I have arrived here someone in my cohort constantly harassed me and bothered me in public spaces concerning my racial/ethnic make-up. It has been extremely awkward to combat this and constantly have to validate myself in public spaces with other students, in elevators with faculty, and in class. It feels like everyone at this institution knows I am a underrepresented minority (URM) student, but everyone decided to make assumptions about what that was instead of asking me. Although I don’t like being asked the pointed question “where are you really from?” I much prefer that than being profiled and put a group that I do not identify with in both professional and social situations. Not to say there is anything wrong with being associated with other groups of people, but I don’t academically represent this certain group of students, and I certainly do not want to take the space from other URM students in this group who deserve to be in my graduate program. 

I have cried several times because it’s been really frustrating and uncomfortable. The feeling has only continued as I continued throughout my career and joined my thesis lab. And most unfortunately, these feelings have even stemmed from direct conversations with my colleagues and my mentor. I currently work as a grad student in the lab of a well known WW in my field. When I interviewed with this faculty specifically, I was really excited because she was exactly in the field I wanted to be in and seemed to have a great reputation among fellow faculty and students. I asked her directly how she works with diversity, if diversity was and important factor for her life/work, and how she feels about my intense involvement/volunteering with URM. Her answers were vague (which wasn’t very surprising), but I enjoyed my experience rotating with her and decided to join the lab. I now regret this. Last year, I expressed my desire to start applying for my own funding, which was responded to quite well. I submitted several applications for grants/ fellowships during my time in the lab so far. However, my PI knows that I am URM and gave me an opportunity to submit a diversity supplement for a R01 grant she had for my current thesis topic. I was very excited to do this, but upon reviewing my application I saw that she too just assumed what minority group I belonged to and I felt hurt that she didn’t ask. There was also a signed letter from the diversity office which basically “confirmed” I was a URM student. Upon seeing that we were about to submit forms to the government which were falsely identifying me (which takes spots from students from this group) I called my family to ask if I should confront her and get her to change the forms. My mother and sister were furious, but my father said that I should keep my relationship with my advisor smooth. He asserted, like he has many times before, that people love to fill quotas and that it is easier to let it be. But, in my heart I just knew that it wasn’t right. I confronted my advisor and it broke my heart when she merely responded with a laugh “Oh, I just assumed. What are you?”. After telling her and justifying my identity once again, she said she would change it. I never know if she truly did, and she never really apologized. As a WW who is older, I know that some things that she says are out of pocket and not really PC. But I feel like I could never trust her again with anything personal after this, even though I only considered her as my boss in the first place. 

My lab no longer really feels like home. Not like it ever did. With recent events such as the coronavirus pandemic/ protests against police brutality and systemic racism I feel extremely disappointed in the handling of this situation by my mentor. My mentor assumed that everyone would be just as excited to get back to research, asserting that COVID-19 wouldn’t be a big deal and working in a building where rules haven’t really been well-established would be fine (because of x, y, z statistics from the surrounding hospitals). She also asserted that she wouldn’t be there and tried to bend the capacity rules to help our lab have more people working. And the last thing that she said after many conversations with our group about returning to research was that if we didn’t feel comfortable, we didn’t need to come in. That struck a chord. The first thing you should ask people is if they feel okay, and assert that their comfort is paramount.  My mentor, who has made research her life (which is a choice and that’s fine), said we could make up for lost time with a 7 day work week and the last thing she asked was about our comfort. That speaks volumes about my university and the awful environment that so many graduate students have to face. I felt extremely pressured to go back to work-- but I still haven’t gone. In terms of protests and racial injustice/ police brutality, my mentor sent out ONE email about the current state of the nation. It was all fluff, all wishing that the city stays safe from looting. No resources to support Black people or our community. It was all from a place of privilege, one that puts property above people. This is all while other labs are having important conversations about racism, giving out resources and taking strong stances to be anti-racist. I have never felt more alone in this space. As a student of color, I have not received any words of support from my mentor. All I have are half-assed emails from our diversity office and program that basically have done nothing. I have attended university town halls that have been superficial and frustrating. Everything about graduate school makes me want to drop out with my master’s more and more everyday. And I don’t even feel like I can tell my advisor this, because our relationship will never recover. 

I struggle with my personal feelings as a student of color and my academic career. I’ve reached out to my family asking it if it would be appropriate to try to leave the lab over this, to switch mentors. It just doesn’t seem clear. But I am tired of being asked to validate who I am. I am tired of my colleagues assuming who I am, of saying “Oh I forgot you were x, sorry”. I am tired of academia being so white, so awful, but not being enough of any group as a multiracial student to really feel like I have a sense of belonging with other URM. 

[clonerightsagenda]

This was last minute but I'm a grad student so I was mostly drafting from life anyway. You can tell I was losing steam by the end though. All the library details are from my uni library, although I have never seen any dead Union soldiers, or any other ghosts for that matter. The creepy grad cages are my favorite part of giving tours.

 tuesjade prompt: school

The third floor of the library is so quiet every keystroke echoes. Last time you heard someone walking through, it was the security guard on their hourly late night round. You picked this spot for its isolation.

The door leading out into the central stacks creaks open, and you listen for the student's footsteps passing by. Instead, the curtain between your carrel and the stacks twitches back, and you squint out to see Jade waving at you from the other side of the grating. "I like your shower curtain."

"You would. School mascots are just anthro with a veneer of plausible deniability.”

You don't mention that the curtain is on your side of the door, which means she's pulled it backward (and tied it up with businesslike lashwork) with Space powers instead of with her hands. There's no one else in here, and the security cameras can't pick up that level of fine detail.

"Don't science students have their own library?" you ask. Wait shit, it sounds like you're trying to get rid of her. Which you're not, exactly, although if you wanted company you'd be doing research in your apartment. Still, when it comes to people it's safe to be rude to, even after all these years Jade Harley doesn't make your list.

If she takes offense, she doesn't say so. "They do, but a few of my theoretical readings have mentioned Foucault, and I think I've gone as long as I can pretending I know who that is."

"Yeah, you'll get random Foucault encounters in unexpected disciplines. If it's not him it's Derrida popping out of the tall grass of the lit review. Philosophers were never meant to escape."

"You would know." She glances at the shelves nearby. This section is materials so old they're still in Dewey instead of Library of Congress - another reason you preferred the spot. No one needs this stuff. "How many libraries do all your programs fit into?"

"A couple, but this is the best one." You've got a pretty good setup here, if you say so yourself. Books stacked up on the makeshift shelving unit, your own modem wired into the wall to make up for the library's spotty wifi, and a mini microwave tucked under your feet. Home away from home. "None of the others let you rent carrels."

"Is that what they're called? They look more like spooky library jail cells."

"Some undergrads passed through a few hours ago while I was typing and I heard one whisper, ‘I think there's a graduate student in there.’ They screamed and ran when I sneezed."

She giggles. "They thought you were a ghoooost."

"If anywhere on campus were haunted, this would be it." The third floor stacks are perpetually poorly lit. Thanks to later additions to a library building only Escher could love, the arched windows on the far wall open to nothing but brick. In Roxy's words, "it’s where you go to get some serious ass studying done or to share a hip flask with a Civil War ghost.”

"Actually, I asked Aradia, and she said it's clean. The chancellor's house, on the other hand, definitely registers as harboring some kind of otherworldly presence. We haven't determined whether it's the chancellor yet."

"Take a look at some of the desks and tell me this place isn't possessed by demonic energies." Graffiti springs up faster than the staff can afford to replace furniture, and when the wooden desks are too choked with pen doodles and carved Greek letters, people move to the walls. If they're not sharing their phone numbers, they're swapping insults with rival frats. You take anthropological interest in this detritus, although one time you'd tried to decipher a Sharpie scribble, made out "We fucked here ;)", and speedily left the seat.

"Rose says the building appeals to your Gothic sensibilities."

"If she compares me to Lord Byron, tell her those are fighting words."

Jade peers in, and you make a halfhearted effort to push the clutter of Monster cans and energy bar wrappers out of her line of sight. "How long have you been in there?"

You stretch your legs as far as they can go, which isn’t far. "I can still feel my feet, and if I have circulation that means it's been under ten hours."

She purses her lips. "Dirk..."

You gesture toward your open PDF files. Several are still waiting for you to review their footnotes. "This dissertation isn't going to write itself."

"It won't write itself if you're dead either."

"Overwork is neither Heroic nor Just."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm confident on a philosophical basis."

She shakes her head. "I know I'm up a little late too. I had a night class on campus, and then I had a bunch of grading to do… You know how I lose track of time when I'm working sometimes." When you'd all lived together, both of you would get lost in projects and miss meals, only noticing the time when someone showed up to drag you out of your room. Jade had started setting timers for herself. She recommended the habit, but you hated having a buzzer interrupt your thoughts. Things take the time they take.

"I've heard rumors about your grading." You may not have a vibrant social network, but you keep your ear to the ground on social media. There's a waiting list for section 4 of Physics 1000. If you weren't long past gen ed credit requirements, you'd take it yourself. "Everyone thinks you'll be a soft touch."

You couldn’t teach. It still takes effort for you to spit out “Good job” to a friend. Your brain, conditioned by years of self-criticism, jumps over congratulations to what’s next and what they could do better. If a three-year-old presented you with their fingerpainting, your first reaction would probably be to tell them to wash their hands. No one deserves to be subjected to that. Isn’t Dave living proof?

“They have to learn,” Jade says. She doesn’t love it when people can’t keep up either, but she, unlike you, has historically been able to slow down and let them catch up without beating the lesson into them. "I let anyone who wants come into office hours. We'll walk through the concepts together and then they can resubmit. It's not my fault if they don't want to try. But anyway, I don't make a habit of all-nighters.” There she goes, picking the thread of the conversation back up again. She’s always been good at that, no matter how much people try to dodge. “They're not good for you. So how about once I finish looking up whoever this very important French guy is, I take you home?"

"Isn't that out of your way?"

She snaps her fingers. "The teleportation express runs 24/7 and omnidirectionally."

"Shit, I should have asked you for a ride here. On the shuttle I got stuck between some guy dumping his date over the phone and an octogenarian professor who might've died while we were in traffic."

"Ask me any time. I'm glad I ran into you tonight though, and not just to rescue you from dying in the depths of Web of Science. Jane wanted me to pass on that your resolution for the graduate assembly got voted down."

"Another one for the garbage, huh?" You click out of the open PDFs and drag them into your 'To process' folder. As much as you’ll never admit it, your blood pressure drops along with the number of tabs open. "I've given them the opportunity to be relevant on this campus, but if they want to keep kissing the administration's ass, that's their business."

"It's hard to challenge the people giving you funding. I'm writing grant applications for the lab this semester, believe me, I know."

Money. That’s an aspect of civilization you hadn’t missed growing up in its waterlogged ruins. For an institution allegedly devoted to higher knowledge, this place is obsessed with it.

"Speaking of which,” Jade continues, “Jane also said if you try anything else the board might pass a new resolution to stop letting you submit resolutions."

You snap your laptop shut. "This is homophobia."

She snorts. "I won't be long, I just need to track down a selected works book. Then I'll come back and we can get out of here."

" I can't be held responsible for any losses to scholarship." You stand up and stretch. Something in your back pops, and your head swims. Ok, maybe you've been sitting here too long.

"I'll take the blame from the academy. Just get tidied up while you're waiting." She looks critically at your collection of Monster cans. "You can recycle those, you know."

By the time Jade gets back with a thick-spined book on philosophy, you’re out of your carrel and have brushed most of the crumbs off yourself. The recyclables have been scooped up and dumped into your backpack’s outer pocket. It’ll be a sticky mess later. “Are you ready to go?” she asks

“Sure.” It’s not even one, which makes this the earliest you’ve gotten home all week. You’re struck by an impulse to yawn and almost crack your jaw resisting it. For fuck’s sake, it’s only November. You’re not allowed to get tired until March at the earliest.

Everything flashes green, and before you have time to rub your eyes, you’re standing outside your front door. Part of you expects to walk through together, but you don’t all live under the same roof anymore. Growing older changes things, even for gods.

“You’re coming to the group dinner next weekend, right?” she asks.

You dig in your pocket for your key. There must be some sort of interdimensional portal in there, it’s fucking ridiculous. Roxy probably knows about eldritch creatures that eat housekeys, that’s got to be within the Void’s purview. “It’s at Jane’s place this time, right?”

“It was the last time I checked.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” She waves and vanishes before you have time to reply. So instead you turn around, stick the key in the lock, and step inside.

 (Dirk would be one of those zombified PhD candidates who you can find obsessively scrolling through 50-year-old dissertations on microfilm at 3 am. He IS the library ghost. He doesn't attend any committee meetings because he's overscheduled but he does send proxies with detailed questions/comments/concerns for every agenda item. If they knew what he looked like, the other committee members would probably kill him on sight.)

[schoolenthusiast]

Some tips I wish I had known before starting grad school

A couple of weeks ago I answered someone’s question on Tumblr about what to expect/what to do when starting a PhD. It gave me the idea to extrapolate about the subject just in case it could help some fellow tumblr grad school enthusiasts.

1. Choose your program and advisor wisely

Before submitting your proposal, do some shopping for your graduate school program. It’s an important step because at this point, your future opportunities will often depend on where you are working and who you are working with. Who are the experts in your field of study? Where do they teach? What is their reputation → this is fairly important: try to get to know them as researchers (how often do they publish? where? what are their current research interests) but also as people (do they enjoy working with their grad students? are they involved in their faculty? are they easy to reach? how do they work? are they perfectionists or slackers?) 

The main idea here is to find someone who will be willing to mentor you and bring your research to the next level without shoving their ideas down your throat. I’m not saying you will become friends with them (although you could), but since you will be working with them and even for them for quite a while, it is really important that you choose them carefully. Academia is highly competitive, and you have to be able to trust your advisor.

2. Do some research before starting

Most of PhD students start their adventure during the fall semester, which means they have submitted their candidature during the winter semester, presumably while finishing either an undergrad program or any form of master’s degree. This means there is usually some time between the time you submit your thesis research proposal and the time you actually start as a PhD student. Take it as your advantage. In most cases, you will already have done some topic-related research at this point to submit your proposal. Getting a head start doesn’t mean you should reread everything during the summer, because it is more than ok to take some time to rest. What could be a good idea is to look at your main research material and focus on it so you get a better understanding of what you know and what you need to know.

Example : 

Let’s say you’re a lit student (like me). You know you want to work on Author X and have a critical approach inspired by the research of Y and W. Now, this has already been stated in your research proposal and you’ve read the necessary works before then (normally). 

A good place to start during the summer would be to reread the books of Author X to a) single out the ones you will be focusing on and maybe even annotate them and b) get a better understanding of their work as a whole. 

Then, you could reread the books by Y and W to make sure you understand them well. 

Once this is done, try to find the alternate theories about their research: is there anyone who contradicts them? what flaws are there in their ideas? how could the same mistakes be avoided? is the research usable in your given context? what are the precautions to take while using their methods? etc. → This will save you a ton of time later when you have to defend your methodological choices to research committees and similar academic boards.

If you have time and energy, you can even start to take notes about your different choices about the things you encounter during this phase (especially concerning step 4, since you will more than likely have to discuss it in your thesis later)

3. Get involved

Motivation is often hard to find in this incredibly long process (4-5 years for most of PhD programs... when things go well! imagine having a child or an illness during this time!). One thing I found that helped me was to get OUT of my research bubble and participate in things organized either by other students or professors. It can be attending a book launch, or just the end of semester party, or just attending the lecture your advisor gives to undergrads. Although these are sometimes time consuming, getting out of your place for a couple hours, breathing fresh air while you commute, talking to people and looking at something else than your computer screen helps a lot. You’ll come back from these events rested, and it will help you focus more.

Is your field so narrow there is literally nothing available for you to participate in? Organize one ! Most universities have special funds for organizing conventions and colloquials. You will get experience in diverse skills (budget, marketing, communication, etc.), meet people (who will most likely be impressed of the work you did to make this event possible) and make sure your implication stays in your uni’s history. If you feel like you don’t know your professors/advisor that much, this is a great way to get to know them: invite them to be keynote speakers at your event. This might help you attract even more “renowned” people to the event, as their circle of acquaintances might be broader than your own. Organizing a set of conference sure is energy and time-consuming, but the rewards are huge when it comes to your career. Who knows, maybe someone you will meet there will become a future colleague or a friend?

4. Do other things

What usually happens when people get into grad school is that they start wearing blinkers. Although I’m not sure if the idiom translates well to English (^^), it means that they get so focused on their research subject that they don’t notice anything else. They read only research-related stuff, attend research-related events, and meet research-related people. Although it might not seem dangerous (after all, you get to learn a lot and you get closer to your goal!), it can lead to completely overlooking something that could be crucial to your research! Reaching outside your traditional field of research will let you encounter new theories and methodology, new thinkers and new ideas. When you feel like you’re stuck on a problem, taking a step back can often let you reconsider and see it differently. Talk to your problems to the people around you, but not necessarily people in your field. Their ideas and insight might help you get out of your research slump.

5. Plan wisely

Planning takes time and we all know we don’t have enough of it. BUT it will help you feel like you have a hold onto things (because you will, duh!). It will also be a source of motivation (grad school often feels like everything in our life is on hold, but making a daily to-do list will prove it is not). Planning early (and sticking as much as possible to your schedule) will let you have more breathing room when it comes to surprises in your life (a surprise teaching job? a travel opportunity? illness? an invitation to your annual field symposium? a child?). If these happen, you will have to do more work, that’s for sure, and you don’t wanna be so behind that you have to decline or quit.

Plan:

Daily things (chores, reading time, lab time, errands, FREE TIME)

Upcoming deadlines (keep track of them ! make sure you know all the requirements!)

Upcoming interesting events (either a research-related conference coming to your university or just a concert with friends)

If you have a job while you are also in grad school, try to take note on what you can do and when. If you have a teaching job related to your field, see how explaining things to undergrads can help you better understand your own research.

Required reading for your thesis (got dozens of pages in your bibliography? better get cracking! But let yourself some time to digest the information you read. There’s no point in reading so fast you end up skimming the whole thing and then having to reread it months from now when you’re supposed to be writing your thesis). Take good notes and create a system that works for you.

6. Take some time off

DO. SOMETHING. FOR. FUN. EVERYDAY. (Even for just 5 minutes! TREAT YOURSELF)

7. Get feedback

Show what you write to your friends. Talk to them about what you want to do next and ask if they know things that could interest you. 

If you participated to an event related to your research, think about what you could have done better and think of ways to improve for the next one. Consider the questions people had for you and try to figure if they were overlooked in your presentation because of time issues (as it is often the case) or just because you never thought about them before.

#1 is really important here. Talk to your advisor. Have a chat in their office from time to time, just so they can keep up with you and see you’re involved (or still alive!) Send them drafts early in your process so you can assess how much time it takes before getting A) an answer to your email (this can take a while) and B) annotations and suggestions on your draft. You DON’T want to work for months on end only to scrap everything and go back to where you started.

8. Ask questions

“There are a whole lot of things in this world of ours you haven’t even started wondering about yet.” — Roald Dahl

It was true when you were a child trying to understand the world, and it is still true now. Don’t allow yourself to become mediocre. Don’t ever be satisfied with half-assed answers. Sometimes the key to motivation is to stay curious.

9. Always bring a (leisure) book with you

This is directly related to #6. This point is especially important if you work in the humanities or any field that basically only requires a lot of reading-related research (i.e. not labs, because grad students working in labs do spend a lot of time in there, but they sure don’t bring it back home with them). If you’re really stressed about not doing enough research, it’s fine, but you have to admit that when you’re just waiting for the bus or in a line to get your lunch, doing research-related readings is simply not worth it. Hence the leisure book. Allow yourself some breaks and renew your love for reading!

10. Look for scholarships and other funding resources

I can’t insist on this enough. Being a grad student takes a lot of time and dedication. The few academia-related work opportunities you will get most likely won’t pay for your daily needs, much less your total tuition. Getting a part-time job can also be risky, as it will reduce the time you have for research, drain your energy, and also make you less available for occasional activities (conference, research trips, etc.). It doesn't take a lot of research to see that student loans are a huge source of stress and although it might be necessary for you in order to survive, taking less money from loans because you’re getting it as grants is the best opportunity. You can ask your advisor for suggestions, or look online either on your university’s website (they usually have a list available either for all of their students or to a specific group you might be part of) or other organizations. Some governments also have research grants available.

This is something you should do before starting your grad school program or even in your first year, as some of the grants are renewable over a specific span of years (you get an amount of money for 3-4 years), so you should definitely try to get it as soon as possible. Doing research early about grants can give you a better idea of what you can expect and how to budget. Keeping a budget is the key, since for most of the grants you will have to submit one to prove that you could benefit more from that money. Also, knowing your needs and the possible savings you could make is a lifetime-useful skill.

Your advisor can help with the process and give you advice on what to write in your proposal (they’ve most likely written a ton of those, or even been on selection committees before, they know what will be expected). 

You’re already a grad student and have never asked for grants before? It’s never too late to start. Sometimes grant organizations will prefer giving the money to someone how has never benefited from it before, and this person might be you!

11. Stay or become friends with people outside your field and out of grad school

Grad school can be is hard on mental health. Students often have depression symptoms or other mental health problems during their grad student years. Grad school will most likely make you feel isolated, especially if you’re working a lot from home and/or in a very competitive field (who am I kidding, they all are). There is no magical solution to this, but keeping in touch with people might help you. Share how you feel with people you trust, either from your field or, preferably, your ‘outside’ life. Take time to visit your family if you’re living away from them. Take breaks to send stupid faces on snapchat. Play video games with your friends. Take your nieces, nephews and/or kids to field trips. Go grab a drink with someone you’ve met in college but haven’t seen in a while. Take up a class to learn something new.

Surrounding yourself with people who are not experts in your field or have no graduate school experience will prevent you from spending all your precious free time talking about your thesis or your grant proposal. It might not seem useful at first, but trust me, it is.

If you’re still struggling with mental health issues related to grad school, please look and ask for help. You will not regret it.

[jasminwiniarski]

Interview answers

Here are all the replies I got from undergrad students:

1. Nathalie, 19, female, Chemistry

2. Yesterday

3. Yess, basically every day

4. I use it to get the molar mass of elements    

   unnecessary  are the different colors of elements and the boiling points

5. /

6. at Uni for different calculations and I need to learn the periodic table for the exams

7. /

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1. Michel, 21, male, I am currently in the third year of my Physics Bachelor studies here at Luxembourg University. I am kind of sporty (playing football), love a good laugh with friends and enjoy doing physics, math and chemistry.

2. Last week during the Modern Physics lecture

3. At least once a week but there may be weeks where I use it more often.4) I mostly use it to find the atomic number (Z) or to see which elements are unstable, which are unreactive or very reactive.

5. I got used to it, but at the start it was hard to find the elements I was searching for because the table is quit large and often crowded in values.

6. University

7. At school maybe start with a small periodic table and then add more elements slowly? All in all I think the periodic table looks good as it is.

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So first, my name is Jérémy, I'm 21 and, yes obviously I'm male. Even if it sounds like if it's an introduction in a support meeting, I'm not a drug addict. There's very few to talk about me, I'm a boring dude with a boring life. I study physics, I'm currently in the 5th semester.The last time I used a periodic table was not so long ago, maybe 2 or 3 week 🤔.For the 3rd question I will answer it depends. Because, depending of the course and the topic currently studying. So, let's say sometimes I use it.I use the PSE because it's easy to use... everything is categorised and in a specific order, it makes easy to find what you want such the atomic mass or the valance electrons as well as the shell number. In the past I used it more for the atomic mass, but now it's more to now the quantum states of the electrons.I like question 5 😂. Damn I hate it when you search by name or initials (I don't know how they call the short name, so I call it initials). Like go and search for Hf. Where the hell is it!!???There's only one motivation: you don't have a choice. If you want to know something about some element without using internet, there's only the PSE. Or imagine you want to search for an element with some particular characteristics, well it's more difficult to search it on Google. With the PSE, the characteristics of the elements are in a logic order, it says directly which element you're searching for.Last question. I would change nothing. Because on paper you can't change anything more or do it even more efficient. Well I'm not a specialist neither a designer, but it's just what I think. If you can improve the PSE in paper format that would be interesting and great 😊. For the bonus points, so you want to do a PSE with a focus on what element can be found in which planet? 🤔 If I understood it right, then I suggest you to add the value (like in €/kg) of the elements since Luxembourg want to do spacemining. I would also add the distance between us and the respective planet. So that it's easier to calculate the cost of mining, and so to see if it's worth it. 

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1. Dino, 21, Male, B.Sc. Chemistry

2. Couple of days ago

3. I definitely use it regularly, at least weekly

4. I use it to explain why certain molecules react in a specific way. Sometimes you need to know the position and the mass number so you can argument why a component is in a stable/unstable state. I often need to know the molar mass of a molecule for calculations but I don‘t calculate it myself as there are online molar mass calculators. The electronegativity is also something I often need to know so I can tell about the strength of a chemical bond, but this is missing in most periodic tables. All information in the periodic table about an element is vital.

5. If I can‘t find a precise one immediately. 

6. Except for studies I don‘t use the table so I guess none. I also don‘t use it always directly as I had to study it by heart so you should know the most important parts without looking at one.

7. It would be nice if (in the case of program as for your app) the periodic table is interactive and you can just display the information you need right now. I think you‘ll be able to find the information you‘re looking for much faster. The lanthanoides and actinoides don‘t need to be displayed as you nearly never need them. 

For the bonus question I think it would be nice if the radioactive elements have a sign. 

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Name: Benan 

Age: One shall never ask a lady for her age!... Try putting a TOE next to a TOE :)

Gender: Take a guess if you’re smart enough;)

Background about myself: I have a beige-coloured wall behind me. Is that background enough for you?

I’m a Turkish-Luxembourgish-Belgian student living in Luxembourg since my childhood. I speak 5 languages (and the 6th language; Czech, is on the way).

Studies: 3rd year in Bachelor in Physics (haha I’m a Bachelorette)

Currently as a Free Mover in Prague (wonderful city!).

When was the last time you used the periodic table?

Today!

Do you use the periodic table regularly? On a daily, weekly basis?

I would say 2 times a week.

What is your principal reason for using the periodic table, what is the information that you usually seek from it?

I have a course called “Solid State Physics” and we actually use the periodic table quite regularly in order to investigate the electronic structure of different elements and materials. We see what makes up the bonding states between atoms. We analyse why a metal is a metal, where the ferromagnetism comes from, how superconductor and semiconductors work in electronic basis and what their properties are. We also analyse different crystal structures like diamonds.

What causes you frustration when using the periodic table?

It reminds me of chemistry courses from high school and hence my high school life itself. It wasn’t really the best time of my life, but it was still funny!

What motivates you to use the periodic table?

Henry Moseley’s contribution to the periodic table and the fact that he was shot by a Turkish sniper during the Battle of Gallipoli.

Also, the fact, that if I work with the periodic table, I might pass the exam, if I pass the exam, I will get my Bachelor’s Diploma in Physics and hence officially be a physicist!

What would you change about this experience?

Life is an experience, time is relative and the past may never be changed.

Bonus question:

Bring it on, lady!

Name, physical properties (colour, shape, softness,..), mass, smell (actually that would be interesting, you could explain by means of smells we know how that element smells, e.g. they say space smells like burnt meat), percentage of abundance of that same element on Earth, lattice structure (face centred cubic, base centred cubic, or or or), what it’s useful for, how old the element is, atomic number, etc