#unrelated is it only me of can others just Not write with spoken languages in the bg.

[meirimerens]

Heya!! I was lying in bed with my mind racing a mile a minute, so I thought I'd just reach out to ask my quick wondering instead of festering on it any longer! Do you.. perhaps.. take short fic commissions? I saw your digital stuff is full, so if you do take them, then I'll just wait for a future opening. If you don't, though, then no worries!! I just thought it couldn't hurt to check. ☺️ if you have it mentioned somewhere that you don't take them and I completely missed it, then my apologies ahead of time!

hewwo!! i've never approached writing commissions so don't fret about missing em, i've never mentioned it hehe and i'm sorry i don't take those and i don't think i ever will... i'm way too particular and nitpicking about my writing and insekyuure about how slow i am to offer something of the sort... :,)

hope you find someone that fits what ya want... GOOD LUCK OUT THERE...

[perplexingluciddreams]

A “brief” overview of my communication journey:

My verbal communication was always limited to echolalia and scripts (by scripts, I mean pieces of different echolalia that I stuck together to create a new phrase, or longer several-sentence delayed echolalia. But I didn’t learn to do this until I was at least 9 years old). I also had very limited control over what my mouth said - I would regularly hear my mouth say something I completely disagreed with, then had to watch in panic and confusion as the people around me reacted as if it was something I actually thought.

I used to request things that I didn't even want. "I want..." statements were banned in my house because they were "rude". “I want never gets!” I had stuck as a script for the longest time, even involuntarily saying it when other children said an “I want…” phrase.

I was given examples of how to request things by my parents. I used "I would like...", "Can I have... please", etc. But this didn't give me a reliable way to ask for what I wanted - I could only ask for things I had a script for. So I was limited to a handful of foods and objects that as I grew older, I had less and less interest in.

Saying "please" and "thank you" was drilled into me so much that I would often say it at the end of other unrelated scripts because it got "stuck" there by my mouth, without my permission. I got laughed at for this a lot.

I would say "yes" when I meant no, I couldn't reject things because I didn't have a script for saying "no". And I had been told to be polite so many times that it was a concrete rule in my mind - breaking a rule was worse than anything else. Saying "no" was rude, according to the adults around me - if another child said "no" to something, they were told off by a teacher or their parent. I didn't understand tone of voice so I thought it was the thing they were saying that was wrong.

As I got older, and became more aware that other people seemed to have more control over their voices and could say what they wanted (my general awareness of people and my surroundings definitely played into my struggles with communication, but I won’t elaborate on that here) I would sometimes sit in my bedroom and attempt to read aloud from a book, or write a sentence and read it aloud. To my confusion and upset, it would come out garbled with sounds mixed up, words missing, sometimes no sound coming out of my mouth at all. I couldn't make intelligible speech with my own words AT ALL.

I managed to teach myself to manually make some sounds, mostly vowel sounds, by moving my tongue around whilst making sounds with my vocal cords. But clearly this was not enough for using spontaneous speech as communication. Not to mention, any time I even considered trying to get my OWN words out (with speech, writing - even drawing pictures, signs), all words and scripts I knew just disappeared from my mind.

The only time I could even slightly get my emotions out was through movement - I used to throw myself backwards onto my bed repeatedly, bang my head with my hand, pull my hair, spin around in circles. I now know these would be called "stimming", but at the time I used it more for expressing myself. I also had other repetitive movements that I did almost constantly without even realising what I was doing, but I considered the expressive movement to be a different thing entirely at the time.

It took me years to get my own words out, and that was only once I managed to break down (spoken AND written, and both connected) language into individual words and learn the meanings, then learn to build it back up again. (And, this could only happen after I’d lost most of my out-of-control scripted speech. AAC with symbols helped me break down language in this way, because each word has a separate button and I was forced to learn to form sentences without an already-there structure to fall back on).

In order to do this, first I must take the long string of noises, and break it down into words. Then I must take those words and process the meaning of them individually. The biggest challenge, and the thing that takes the most time, is building the sentence back up.

Words often change meaning when they're strung together, and this is the part where that meaning tends to disintegrate into nothing, for me.

I have to build an abstract "picture" of what the words mean in my head. With very complex language, or a lot of language at once, this can take me hours, days, or even weeks.

Written language is a lot easier to process - firstly, the "string of noises" part is completely eliminated from the equation. Secondly, I see written words as entire shapes. Shapes, symbols or signs connect much more strongly to their meaning, in my head.

I learned to write by hand before I could type, because writing by hand is just copying the shape of a word. I hadn't yet learned to break down a word into it's individual characters and sequence them in the right order, not to mention finding the letters on the keyboard. My spelling has always been fantastic because of my tactile memory for words - and I say tactile instead of visual, because I don't "see" anything in my head, but the shapes of words are something solid that I feel I can touch, hold, grab on to.

But typing was a completely different thing, because even though I could recognise and read words in a typed print, it took longer for me to understand how to put letters together in the correct order to create words using a keyboard. The motor plan for typing was much more difficult for me to learn, but now I have that skill it's invaluable to me in terms of communication.

It took me a little while longer to realise that a keyboard gave me the opportunity to use my own words from my own mind, rather than whatever my mouth (or brain, when writing - I had different written scripts than verbal scripts, though, usually from books) happened to blurt out without my control.

I learned to read very early, but my understanding of language was actually quite poor - separately I could recognise the definition of one word, but when many words are put together I didn't understand the meaning of that sentence or paragraph.

The feeling of being able to put my own thoughts into written words like this, and read them back, is such a rush of power. I can have a concrete, physical impact on the world now that I can use a keyboard and get all the things in my head out there. It becomes real as soon as it's outside of me.

I remember that "comprehension" (answering questions on a written passage - we learned to answer the questions in a certain way, with a “blueprint”) in school really helped me with the breaking down of sentences and rephrasing them. Even though at the time, it just felt like it added to my out-of-control scripted speech, it gave me a skill that has been incredibly useful to me in the long term.

Getting to this point, where I can express myself fluently and eloquently through written language, took so much time and work, and still takes all my energy to write something as long as this. I am so grateful for the genuine communication I have now. It took many sessions, over months, to write this in its entirety. I wrote it in separate chunks, all trying to express similar things, then fitted them together and altered some sentences to make it flow better. (Of course with lots of editing to fix my grammar and my tendency to repeat the same sentence structure over and over - I still use my “blueprints” while writing, it’s the only way I can form complex long sentences like this one).

In order to communicate a memory or past experience in words, I had to have been actively translating (or attempting to translate) my abstract thoughts into language at the time.

If I wasn't or couldn't do this at the time it was happening, those experiences, thoughts, emotions, etc. are almost impossible to describe in language now.

And translating my brain takes so much energy and effort, and relies on me being able to understand what is happening and what I'm thinking and feeling. I more often than not don't comprehend my own mind - if this is the case, then of course I can't explain it to someone else.

It still takes so much time, effort and energy to get my thoughts out like this, and I’m very proud of the progress I’ve made. Even just learning to use Tumblr and posting on here as regularly as I can manage (plus reading other people’s words about similar experiences, or even very different experiences), has increased my ability to express myself and the vocabulary I’m able to access.

[deafaq]

Hi!!! Your blog is amazing, i just found it but i learned so much by browsing it.

So i know you are not primarily a writing blog but i don't know who ellse to send this to and finding sources for reaserch in my native language is difficult and since i am on phone i can't find your faq section for the life of me so i might even ask questions you answered plenty of times My apologies for that and the lenght. I can fill half a dictionary when i get fixated on explaining myself.

For clarification: i am hearing and i don't know any form of sign language so i might ask some very stupid or insensitive questions unintentionaly i apologise in advance.

I am writing fantasy and the two nations share a spoken language but developed diferent sign languages from the same root sign language due to separation and different enviromental factors and needs both related and unrelated to the new circumstances (for example one of the nations consists entirely of magic users and i thought they would modifie the signs to flow more with magic as it can be influenced by movement among many things) My first question is if this portrayal is alright? Is there anything offensive that i should change? would it be realistic for sign languages to be influenced like this.

There are two characters in the the story who this relates to one of them is hard of hearing and had a vocal cord injurie that makes it painful and dificult to speak and uses sign language as his only form of comunication throughout the story, he was semi verbal even befor the injurie and used sign language as a primary form of comunication since his childhood. (Would it be alright to refer to this character as culturaly deaf/ Deaf.) The other character is hearing and fuly verbal but knows sign language for complicated resons that are not realy relevant here i think, he is semy fluent in it as he gets to use it pretty regulary . They are from diferent nations tus know different sign languages. Would it be realistic for the hearing character to try and understand what the HoH character is signing by repeating the signs himself and try and asign meaning to them in the sign language he knows when they first meet instead of paying attention to the character who is interpreting. To clarify the two nations are the only one mentioned in the story and they had no outside contact for many generations befor the meeting at the start of the story so the concept of different languages (be that spoken or sign) is not exactly dead but definitly foreign and he doesn't realise beforehand that they might have diferent languages. Would this be alright since i know its a trope that there is only one capital s Sign language and i dont want to strengten it.

Also would these two character have an easier time understanding/learning each others sign language since they share the same spoken language whic both of them understand and one of them can speak. Could they learn from eachother by the verbal character signing components of a sentence individualy and saying the words for them out loud and then showing them in the proper gramatical order saying the sentence out loud and then the non verbal character signing his signs for the words in the same order the verbal character did then signing the sentence with the correct grammar he knows. Maybe the non verbal character writing down words and sentences he wants to teach the verbal character in liue of speaking out loud so the conversation is not dominated by him and the HoH character has more agency. Would this be a faster proces for them than if it was one hearing character who doesn't know sign at all and a character who speaks primarily in sign. Would the speed of this be influenced by the fact that the two sign languages have the same root sign language or the long time they developed separately would make that obsolete. Would it be possible for them to fully learn the others sign language and comunicate in it in a relatively short time frame ( i don't have an exact time frame but 1 to 3 months at most) or would it make more sense for them to develope a pidgin ( i belive thats how its called in english, apologies if not).

Also would it be the right solution if they did learn eachothers sign language comunicated primarily in the Hoh/non verbal characters native sign language to be more acomodating to him.

Lastly would it be apropriate for this to be framed in the narrative as these characters becoming closer to each other over learning to comunicate with eaxchother, it helping the the hearing character, (who is an outsider) become closer to the comunity the HoH character belongs to/their interaction being a source of joy for both of the characters. And all this being importante to the plot ( not the main focus but characters becoming closer to eachother is a very important theme in the story in general) Is this respectful portrayal or is this apropriation from Deaf culture/telling a story thats not mine to tell.

Thank you if you answer, but i understand if you chose not to. Have a lovely day regardles.

Hello,

that's a lot of text.

Anyway, here is a link to guide - https://deafaq.tumblr.com/post/190549529559/comprehensive-guide-to-writing-deaf-characters

Okay, so to take it one by one... Spoken languages and sign languages often don't follow same historical lines, so them having different development and different "similar" languages is pretty common. Not offensive, go ahead.

Though as a linguist, I must point out that if the two countries have same spoken language and no contact for many generations, the spoken language should differ too. Probably not to the point of being completely unintelligible, but it would be noticed pretty quickly.

Magical sign language is cool.

I am not very keen on the hard of hearing character with vocal chord injuries. It feels to me that the bigger emphasis is given to his lack of speaking, when it should be lack of hearing. Also, mute people are majorly over represented as sign language users compared to deaf/hoh people. This character can communicate only in sign language even if his vocal chords are fine - lot of deaf people do it, as they prefer not to use spoken language.

Re: the meeting of them... I mean, it can happen that two signers don't have common sign language but do have same spoken language. Happened to me with visiting British students, we ended up writing in English bcs BSL is completely beyond me.

But I am not really into the process you described for how the communication would work, bcs thats not really how it happens with deaf people most of the time. (or in this case, two people fairly fluent in sign language)

Usually, they'd use their sign language but with emphasis on more "iconic" communication/pantomime. (iconic = signs which look like the things they mean). Look up International sing to see what I mean. And since sign languages usually include iconic signs, even non-related sign languages are often more mutually intelligible as opposed to two non-related spoken languages. And if they have same root, there should be lot of same signs, especially for simple concepts like "sleep", "food", "me", etc.

Lot of deaf people have problems with spoken language grammar so they wouldn't bother with spoken language bridge at all. Using spoken language and writing and its grammar seems unnecessarily long winded, when you could communicate straight in SL. Also, if your HOH character has SL as his native language, he would probs prefer to stay in it.

I think they would be able to communicate basic ideas fairly quickly, esp if they communicated every day - few days at most. More difficult/meaningful conversation would likely take months or more, depending on their language aptitude and circumstances. At first, it would definitely be sort of piding/bridge language.

Then, they might switch to one sign language - probably the one they are more proficient with, so if the hard of hearing char is fluent, then theirs.

And sure, learning language is often how people get closer.

Hope this helped,

Mod T

[best-non-english-word-torunament]

Round one: Gezellig vs 우유, uyu

Gezellig (Dutch)

Standard Dutch: [ɣəˈzɛ.ləx] West-Flemish Dutch: [həˈzɛ.ləh]

Translation: Gezellig is a famously untranslatable word. The closest translation is probably 'cosy', but it is much more than that. Whereas cosy usually only refers to a place or a setting, anything and everything can be gezellig in Dutch: a place or a setting, an atmosphere, a person, a group of people, an event... Anything you do, especially in a group, can be done in a way that is gezellig. Other ways of translating gezellig are 'convivial' or 'fun', but they also miss a lot of what 'gezellig' entails. Gezellig can also be used sarcastically: "'I'm having dinner with my bigoted relatives tomorrow.' 'Oh, gezellig.'”

Dutch is an Indo-European language belonging to the Germanic branch spoken by 16 million people in the Netherlands and 24 million total. Most speakers outside the Netherlands are from Belgium, which has a Dutch-speaking area with 7 600 000 speakers. It makes up one end of the West Germanic Dialect continuum. Dutch is also the basis for Afrikaans, spoken in South Africa.

Motivation: It is a word I use all the time in Dutch! I can never find a good way to say it in English, because none of the possible 'translations' actually say the same as 'gezellig'. The concept of 'gezelligheid' is also said to be an integral and defining part of Dutch-speaking culture.

우유, uyu (Korean)

[uju]

Translation: (cow) milk

Korean is spoken by 50 million people in South Korea and 25,4 million people in North Korea. It is almost an isolate, a language unrelated to other languages, except that there’s another Koreanic language spoken on Jeju island whose speakers are switching to Korean. The Korean script, Hangul, is pretty interesting: It’s the only big writing system which is featural, which means that the way characters look are based on how the sounds they represent are produced in the mouth, so that similar sounds look similar.

Motivation: Okay simply because it makes me happy. It's pronounced oo-yoo / u-yu and that is a simple but fun rhyme. But also! The word looks like either two little people standing next each other. Or maybe two vampires but one is missing a tooth. It just makes me happy to say and write.

[jimmycarterghostland]

I think more people should get into Conlang, inventing your own language. It's pretty useful. Like, if you have a journal or private writings for yourself that you want to keep secret, no one would be able to understand what you wrote. Except you.

You wouldn't have to worry about snoops if you wrote things in a language you invented. That's probably the biggest reason why I want to make my own language. 100% secrecy with my private journaling, and any other writing I would want to keep to myself. With your own conlang, you could even translate things like social media posts into your invented language, or even web articles, online stories, book passages, etc. Meanwhile, no nosey people would be able to understand any of it if they discovered it.

As someone who had a problem with snoops in the past, I see the advantages of creating your own language. And those advantages make me eager to make my own conlang someday.

When you think about it, nothing you write down is truly private. Because someone can find your stuff, and they can read it. That won't happen if they literally can't, though. Why not make a language that only you could understand, and use it to your advantage?

Conlang can be used to "encrypt" your writing and written content in general.

Spoken conlang is beneficial too, if you're willing to speak your invented language with someone else. I remember as a teenager, me and my best friend at the time made up some code words at school. I can't remember why. But it was fun. We would talk in code, swapping certain words with an unrelated one. We knew what the unrelated words meant, but none of our classmates did. I remember one kid heard us talking, but he didn't know the context of our conversation, due to our code-talking. It was thrilling.

Me and my friend didn't use conlang, since we were just using English words as code for other English ones. Like if you called a dog "table". Me and my friend were speaking English, not a made-up language, but we still had privacy.

To this day I refuse to tell anyone what our code words were, but I still privately use them a lot. Our words even made sense in context, which made them easier to remember. Like, if we had told someone why a certain word had the definition that it did, it would have make sense. There was logic to our code-making.

Conlang is great. With it, you can disguise your private writings from anyone who might find them. And you can chat with a friend without anyone nearby knowing what you're discussing. My main motive for wanting to make my own conlang is preventing snoops from reading my private stuff, though. Eventually, I want to make my own English-and-my-invented-language dictionary. Then I wouldn't have to worry about people reading my private writings ever again. That would be amazing.

[system-of-a-feather]

I'll take a turn on the DID-unrelated ramble train, but honestly, most American / English rap / hip-hop just... bores the fuck out of me. I like music - specifically rap and hiphop because I like it as a venue and means for expressing oneself and sharing life and it's experiences in a way that can be very personal / true and yet also extremely impersonal to share. It's a beautiful way to simultaneously be very vulnerable and real for the individual writing it and leaving it out for listeners to either accept or not - but at the same time when its being performed, it isn't like a friend telling you their shit for support, it doesn't even necessarily still present as the vent or expression it was originally made as - it is just A Song, representative of the time that it was made and written.

Personally, I think rap / hip-hop is one of the best mediums to do this because it is largely just spoken-word with a little more musical emphasis. Some have chorus-es and what not, but not all and those that do often use it more in a poetic sense with repetition than necessarily a "catchy main line" and its really great. I love it and its my favorite genre by a mile

But that is only when it is held to what I think to be the "proper" and "best nature of rap / hip-hop." And of course, this is my opinion, I don't genuinely think my opinion is the only "real" way to enjoy the genre, to each their own; but I am just not interested in rap / hip-hop in any other manner.

A lot of American / English rap has really devolved to loose its expressivity and its just.... egos, hedonism, and jsut marketable music that just really doesn't interest me. On top of that, a lot of them just don't even have that emotive and expressive and dynamic tone and attack to the rhythm that just lulls me to sleep and / or has me groaning.

This isn't to say Korean, Japanese, and Chinese rap (the ones I've looked most into) are all full of meaningful lyrics or anything - nor is it me saying that every track has to have that personal edge to it - but it is just so... emotionally bland in comparison. Even where there isn't any real emotion behind the lyrics a lot of Korean, Japanese, and Chinese rap deliver their lines with a lot more tone, energy, purpose, and emotion behind it.

Anyways, I need to get back into the old rap that we used to listen to in all languages. If any of yall have any good raps in any language that actually has an emotional backing and/or sound, I would love any recommendations.

Some recommendations off the top of my head:

English: NF, Ren (literally found him rn, below in Bonsus)

Korean: Song Gunhee, LeeHyunNim,

Japanese: Fake Type., Kazuo

Chinese: We used to listen to it but I don't remember any names since we were less into it

BONUS, I literally found this while trying to remember the name of LeeHyunNim and I just had a laugh over it being DID themed (I don't have a reason to suspect he has DID but I am listening to it the first time over and it was just unexpected

[sunder-soul]

Can you write an X Reader story with Tom?, where Tom "falls in love" or is attracted to Reader, but she is dating someone else (a Slytherin boy maybe or... from another house) and tries to make she his even if he is rejected at first.

(Perhaps even try a more extreme approach, for example at Professor Slughorn’s party under the table while she is sitting next to him).

Can you write something fluff and smut? Thank you very much.

(sorry if I wrote something in English that is wrong...it’s not my language...I hope you understand). ★

First of all, your English is great, second of all, this prompt is amazing.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Spoken For

Summary: You’re already spoken for when Tom Riddle asks you to Slughorn’s party, but luckily (or unluckily), Tom is hardly known to give up on anything he wants so easily.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Content warning: explicit sex.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“No,” you frown, turning and striding away as quickly as you can, hoping he doesn’t follow but –

“Why not?” Tom says at once, falling in close step beside you.

“I don’t need to give you a reason to turn you down, Tom,” you mutter.

“But you have one.” His eyes are trained on your face, watching for anything he can glean.

“And why exactly do you want to go with me?” you say dryly, weaving through the students milling in the hall between classes and rather desperately hoping that he falters at the question and leaves you alone.

“You want me to list your virtues?” he asks in an equally sardonic tone and not shying away in the slightest.

Damn. The boy’s persistent. “I’m not looking for an ego boost,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised that I want you to be my date?”

“Exactly.”

“Perhaps if you indulged me, the reasons would become clear,” Tom says delicately.

You shoot him a look. “Nice try.”

“You seem to have already made up your mind regardless,” he replies at once, eyes narrowing.

You exhale slowly, holding your books a little tighter. You hadn’t wanted it to get to this, but it looks like you have no other choice. “I already have a date to Slughorn’s party,” you say, frowning again.

Tom stops walking, catching your arm and making you stop, too. Your heart thrums nervously in your chest. “Who?” he asks quietly.

His expression has gone perfectly smooth, but you’re hardly fooled. It’s well known that Tom’s tenacity is rivalled only by his intolerance of failure, a combination that won him his place as the best student in your year – you can only imagine how he’s processing the fact that it hasn’t done him any favours with you. “That doesn’t concern you,” you say with deliberate sharpness, pulling your arm from his grasp.

His expression doesn’t change, his dark eyes levelled on yours with a heavy, inescapable scrutiny.

Your stomach twists with guilt and nerves in equal measure. The truth is that you’re (reluctantly) already spoken for, Axel Pembroke asked you out three months prior and you’d been on quite a few dates since. Whilst you aren’t exactly head-over-heels for the boy, your family adores him, he’s polite and innocuous, and he doesn’t seem to mind (or perhaps notice) your lukewarm feelings towards him.

Which is exactly why you’d tried to shut Tom down and get away so quickly. Intelligent and quiet, observant and shrewd, beautiful just to top it off; Tom makes you curious, you want to say yes to him, and that makes him more than a little dangerous to you.

So here you are, turning him down so abruptly that it must be fairly easy to interpret it as callousness.

“Tom,” you say quietly, “I… maybe if I wasn’t… already…”

He blinks, his attention as unrelenting as ever, but you’re suddenly wondering what people would say if it got out that you’d told him such a thing whilst dating Axel.  

“I should go,” you say hastily, forcing your eyes away from him. “I hope you find another date.”

You hurry off, and thankfully this time Tom doesn’t follow.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

In retrospect, you should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily.

The dinner party is a long, tedious affair made all the worse by the fact that Axel is too busy discussing the merits and flaws of the Holyhead Harpies line-up for the coming Quidditch season with the boys next to him to have spoken much more than two complete sentences to you all night. His attentiveness to you, you’re learning, is apparently extremely fickle and entirely dependent on whether or not he’s around his friends. Even worse, the seat beside you is empty and you’ve been forced to spend the evening in silence as you pick at your food at the end of the table, wishing time might pass faster.

Around seven-thirty the door to the chamber swings open and everyone looks up as Tom walks inside, dressed in smartly-fitted but simple black dress robes and looking so strikingly handsome that you catch several people at the table trade furtive glances with each other. “Apologies, Professor,” he says with a polite nod at Slughorn, “the meeting with the Headmaster ran overtime.”

“Not to worry, Tom my boy!” Slughorn says jovially, leaping to his feet and sending his napkin flying into Phoebe Minks’ soup. “Take a seat! The night is still young!”

Your blood runs hot and electric under your skin. There’s only one seat left at the table and it’s next to you.

“Of course, sir,” Tom says smoothly, eyes flicking to you with humour as he approaches.

You avert your gaze, trying (completely in vain) to catch Axel’s attention – he’s half-turned from you so as to better hear some fifth-year Gryffindor’s rundown of the previous season’s highlights and is not paying you any attention in the slightest.

“Good evening,” Tom says softly as he takes the seat beside you.

You nod silently, suddenly very preoccupied with refilling your goblet.

“Tell us about this meeting then, Tom!” Slughorn calls from the other end of the table.

“Dull affairs, I’m afraid, sir,” he says back with a good-natured drawl. “I’m due to supervise the third years on their first trip to Hogsmeade next month.”

“Oh? Nothing else?”

“No, sir,” Tom says with a razor-sharp smile, “I’m sure whatever you were discussing before my arrival was of infinitely more interest.”

Slughorn chortles but returns to his conversation with the aristocratic-looking Ravenclaw seventh-years beside him. You glance desperately at Axel. Please turn around, you will him, please turn around so that I don’t have to talk to –

“The aforementioned date, I presume,” Tom says softly.

And you can’t avoid turning to him. His elbows are resting on the table before him, slowly tilting his crystal goblet in small circles and watching the liquid shift inside. He’s not looking at you but it’s obvious where his comment is directed.

“And yet you end up beside me regardless,” you mutter.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Tom says, giving you a delicate smile.

Your eyes dart across his face suspiciously, but his smile doesn’t budge.

“Your chemistry is overwhelming,” he says smoothly, nodding at the back of Axel’s head. “I can see the appeal.”

“Stop it,” you mutter pointedly, frowning at your goblet again.

“No, I’m quite serious,” he continues, smile widening, “your rejection makes perfect sense, now, how could I possibly compete with such enamoured affections?”

“It’s not usually like this,” you say quietly, embarrassed.

“Oh?” Tom asks, lifting his goblet to his full lips and watching you closely. “Normally you’re utterly infatuated, are you?” He takes a slow sip, not looking away.

Damn him, you think angrily, wrenching your eyes off his beautiful face and feeling heat on your own. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Well, in the absence of your date’s conversation, perhaps my own might suffice as an adequate substitute,” Tom says smoothly, lowering his goblet and setting it down on the table before him.

“And what would you want to talk about?” you ask with an unmissable brush of sarcasm.

“Oh Quidditch, naturally,” he says with a smirk, glancing briefly at Axel again.

You shoot him another look but his amusement doesn’t falter. “You’re hilarious,” you drawl.

“Well what would you like to talk about?” Tom asks quietly, tilting his head and giving you a strangely penetrating look.

You blink. Something about his demeanour makes the question very easy to answer honestly. “I’d rather talk about anything other than Quidditch.”

Tom breathes a small laugh and he turns towards you. “Well in that case, I’m very well prepared to please you,” he says very smoothly, “I know next to nothing about Quidditch and I’m quite determined to keep it that way.”

You laugh too, and then get very annoyed at yourself for doing so. “This isn’t a date,” you tell him quickly, leaning in a little closer and speaking as quietly as you can.

“Of course not,” Tom replies smoothly, his lips curving into a smile as he lifts a hand to his cheekbone and leans against it thoughtfully.

“Just a conversation,” you continue very intently.

“Naturally.”

“It’s normal to converse with other people at a dinner party.”

“Utterly commonplace,” Tom smiles.

You hesitate, suddenly wondering exactly which of you you’re reassuring. “Alright,” you say slowly, lifting your goblet. “Let’s talk.”

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’re hardly surprised when he’s sitting next to you at the next Slugclub dinner party, too. And the next. In fact, Tom is mysteriously beside you at every one of Slughorn’s gatherings all term, and you’re quite certain that Axel might have drawn issue with someone talking to you so much if he’d bothered to turn around even once.

Not that he has any reason to be bothered, of course. They’re just conversations, nothing more. Maybe Tom’s dry, bitingly observant sense of humour makes you laugh more than anyone else ever has, and maybe he asks questions with direct, astute candidness that make it unavoidably obvious that he’s paying very close attention to your answers, and maybe he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life – but they’re just conversations.

“Slughorn is having another dinner this weekend,” Tom says casually as he falls into step with you in the Charms corridor.

“Is he now?” you say wryly, trying to ignore the excitement curling in your stomach.

“Go with me.”

Your smile fades and you stop walking, looking up at Tom in surprise. He stops too, his regal features settled into something serious and impenetrable as he looks back at you.

“You mean… sit together?” you ask carefully.

“No,” Tom says plainly, “I mean as my date.”

You blink, glancing around nervously. “Tom, you know that I’m going with –”

“If Pembroke paid you any less attention you could strangle Slughorn to death right on the table and he still wouldn’t stop talking to Blakeslee and Dunn about which broomsticks the Americans are using this year,” Tom interrupts, arching a brow.

“He’s my date,” you say coolly.

“He’s not your date,” Tom retorts immediately, all humour vanishing as he steps closer. “Don’t insult yourself by considering that a date.”

“I told you that we’re just having conversations, Tom,” you whisper angrily.

“Oh? Are they just conversations?” Tom breathes.

But all you can do is stare at him as the hours you’ve spent talking to him in Slughorn’s parties swim across your consciousness and you realise with mounting horror that no, no they were not just conversations. You swallow hard and look away. “I don’t want to have to turn you down again,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Then don’t,” he says bluntly, not moving away.

“Tom.”

“I know you want to choose me.”

You shoot him another look of warning. “Stop it,” you hiss.

“Stop lying to yourself,” he hisses back, leaning closer.

“I won’t throw Axel under the bus just because I have feelings for you, Tom,” you say angrily.

Tom immediately stands up straighter, triumph glittering in his eyes as he looks down at you and you realise exactly what you’ve just said. Horror washes over you in a cold wave and you turn on your heel and flee, barely paying attention to where you’re going in your haste to get away from him.

You’re already dreading the coming weekend.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You seriously consider not going until Axel starts getting suspicious as to why you’re so reluctant and you’re forced to swallow your mumbled collection of excuses, put on a nice dress, and follow him to the party. Tom looks up from where he’s sat at the far end of the table when you enter and you quickly avert your eyes as warmth erupts on your skin, giving Slughorn a very forced smile at the head of the table.

“Excellent stuff in the last match, Pembroke,” Slughorn winks, “I’ll have to have a word with Begonia Pincushion from the Wimbourne Wasps – old student of mine, you know –”

Axel immediately starts gushing in excitement and walks off without you to sit next to Slughorn, leaving you quite alone and without an open seat beside him. You blink, embarrassment filtering through your chest as the other party-goers awkwardly look between you and Axel – now so engrossed in his conversation with Slughorn that he hasn’t even noticed the whole room staring at you standing by yourself.

“There’s a spare seat here, if you’d like,” a Hufflepuff girl you don’t know offers quickly, smiling at you as she gestures at the chair beside her.

Your eyes drift unbidden to Tom at the end of the table and find him already looking at you, composed and inscrutable. His group of Slytherin fanboys fill the seats around him, but there’s a space. There’s a space on his right. You don’t think for a second that it’s just by chance.

“Thank you,” you say to the Hufflepuff girl, feeling brazenly reckless, “that’s very kind, but I think I’m spoken for.”

And you resolutely turn and make your way over to Tom, ignoring the way his lips slowly curl into a knowing smile as you approach, the way the other Slytherin boys immediately turn away and fall into deep conversation with each other, they way they don’t look at either you or Tom again.

Tom turns to you as you sit down, lightly resting his head against his hand the same way he had the very first time you’d talked to him, his expression somewhere between satisfied and amused. “Hello,” he says dryly.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter, seizing a goblet and filling it.

He breathes a laugh. “Did I just witness the final straw?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” you frown, glancing down the table where Axel still hasn’t noticed your absence.

Tom’s amusement slowly fades as he looks at you, his own brow furrowing. “Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

Your eyes flash to his, something thrumming unignorably in your chest. You nod and force yourself to take a sip of your drink.

“You look beautiful.”

You blink, something fragile fluttering in your chest as your face floods with heat as you stare at his calm, attentive expression, his posture unmoved.

“Am I allowed to say that now?” he asks smoothly, smirking slightly.

“I think that counts as pushing it,” you mumble, knowing he’s bound to have noticed your blush as you look away.

“You’ll have to tell me when I cross the line,” he says softly.

“You’re relentless.”

“I am,” he smiles, lifting his goblet.

You try to smother your own smile with very dubious success, having to hide it behind a sip of your drink instead.

“So,” Tom says a good two hours later, setting down his empty goblet, “I think it only fair that you give me a definitive answer, all things considered.”

“An answer?” you echo, arching a brow.

“Are you going to be my date?” he asks lightly, looking at you.  

You falter, eyes darting to Axel at the front of the table. Most of the dinner guests are a little tipsy on the heavy wine Slughorn always serves, and loud, boisterous conversation fills the room – though nothing can drown out Axel’s brazen lack of acknowledgement that you’ve been sitting with Tom all evening. “I… don’t know…” you say, frowning.

“You’re not seriously going to consider him after this, are you?” Tom says at once, leaning towards you with a dangerously sharp look in his dark eyes.

“What do you want me to do, Tom?” you breathe. “Our families get on, he’s not horrible to me –”

“He’s not horrible to you,” Tom repeats, scathingly unimpressed.

“I have no good reason to end things with him!”  

Tom’s eyes flash and his hand is suddenly on your thigh under the table, his fingers pressing hard into your skin and your heart just about stops. “No good reason,” he echoes softly, gripping you tighter. “Is that true?”

“Tom,” you whisper, frozen in place.

“Is it?” he asks silkily.

You can barely breathe. Tom’s grip is loosening but not to let you go – his hand is moving, agonisingly slowly, relentlessly, sliding up your leg. “Tom,” you say again, barely audible.

“Have I crossed the line?” he whispers, his palm pushing up your dress as it slides higher up your thigh.

When you don’t reply, Tom’s lips curve into a smile and he turns quite casually back to his plate, hand still on your thigh under the table as he reaches forward and lifts his goblet. “You did agree to tell me if I did,” he says softly, his fingers grazing up the inside of your leg and making you supress a shiver.

And you beg yourself to tell him to stop, to ask him to take his hand away, but heat is flooding your stomach and his hand is warm and firm on your skin, and there’s a burning look in his eyes when he glances at you that makes something between excitement and desire spark in every part of your body.

Tom’s hand moves higher and you lean your elbows on the table in front of you, staring unseeing at your plate as his fingers brush the hollow where your leg meets your hip.

“Are you going to choose?” he asks quietly, watching you.

You look up across the table in fear that someone, anyone might have noticed – but no one is paying you any attention in the slightest, the rambunctious conversation drowning out Tom’s words and the wine blurring their awareness of everything else.

Tom lifts his goblet, his eyes fixed on your face. “Tell me to stop,” he says softly, sliding his fingers across your underwear and making you grit your teeth to stop yourself from reacting.

“Tom,” you try again, barely audible.

“Tell me.”

His fingers are playing with the top of your underwear, and you look over at him, arousal and fear and nerves and excitement tearing in your chest. Tom’s eyes are alight with amusement, his attention still on your face as he smiles, brings his goblet to his lips for a slow sip that you watch him take, captivated.

You grit your teeth again and say nothing.

Tom’s smile grows and suddenly his hand is gone. You blink, cheeks flooding with sudden embarrassment and dread at what has just occurred, wondering if he’ll tell people what you’d let him do, wondering if he’d done it all just to mess with you –

“Make your choice,” Tom says smoothly, leaning back in his chair very languidly.

“You’re seriously trying to seduce me?” you manage to say under your breath.

“It appears to be working,” he smirks, glancing at you.

Your blush returns and Tom’s eyes roam your cheeks looking very pleased with the reaction, when he suddenly stands. “Some music, perhaps, sir?” he asks Slughorn with an unaffected smile.

Slughorn is delighted by the suggestion (of course he is), and in mere minutes the dinner party is milling around the room in small groups of conversation, reedy music blaring loudly from a large golden gramophone by the fireplace.

“Axel,” you say quickly, approaching him where he’s talking to three other boys you don’t know very well.

“Oh – haven’t seen you much tonight,” he says casually, glancing at you.

“No – listen, do you want to dance?” you offer, nodding at the small group of other couples a few feet away. Please say yes, please say yes, please give me a single reason to choose you, please do something –

“I’m in the middle of something,” Axel says distractedly, turning back to the three boys, “maybe later.”

He’s already back in conversation before you can reply. You stare at him, your disappointment almost as potent as your absolute absence of surprise.

A hand around your wrist makes you jump, and you wheel around to find Tom already insistently leading you towards the back of the room. “What are you –”

But Tom just casts one last look over the party before he tugs you into a very small, shadowed alcove behind a large wooden column out of sight and pushes you hard against the wall. “You’re going to have to be very quiet, can you do that?” he asks softly, resting a forearm on the wall above your head as his other hand slides up your leg again – though this time the touch is anything but slow.

“Tom,” you gasp, looking back out of the alcove – but no one is there. No one can see you.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers again as he leans down. Your breath catches in your throat and suddenly Tom’s lips are pressed against your neck and his hand is sliding teasingly along the band of your underwear again. Anything you might have said dies in your throat.

“Go on,” he murmurs against your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

“Tom,” you breathe again, your hands lifting without conscious thought and lacing around his neck.

You hear his little laugh, feel it brush warm across your neck, and he’s pulling your underwear down, and with a touch that feels like fire he slides his fingers against you. Your moan barely slips out from between your lips before Tom’s arm drops from the wall above you and his hand presses firmly over your mouth. “Didn’t I say to be quiet?” he tells you softly, but his fingers are stroking at you and you can barely breathe, your eyes closing tightly as dizziness and pleasure storm in your body.

You hold onto his arm just to stay grounded, his hand over your mouth stifling the noises threatening to escape as his fingers send pleasure coiling low in your core, his lips teasing your neck and making heat spread tingling across your skin.

Tom lifts his head and looks down at you breathing hard beneath his hand, his fingers making you shift with pleasure. “Can you be quiet for me?” he murmurs.

You nod. You would have agreed to anything he’d asked you in that moment.

Tom’s hand vanishes from your mouth and he’s kissing you, soft lips, tongue hot against yours, and you’re dizzy and delirious, kissing him back without thinking, without caring about anything else –

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your mouth, “legs spread for me, so wet for me –”

“Tom,” you moan, whisper-quiet.

“Say it again,” he commands softly.

“Tom.”

He kisses you hard again and you feel the pleasure in your gut start to build and build. “There,” Tom murmurs, pulling back, “there it is. You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Ask me for it,” he says softly.

“Tom, please –”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

You look up at him. Tom looks back with his burning dark eyes, his hand cupping your jaw and pulling your closer to his lips barely breath away from yours as his fingers keep building the smouldering pleasure in your core. “Tell me,” he whispers.

And you nod.

“Say it.”

“I…”

His fingers slow against you and your head falls back against the wall in frustration, your eyes falling shut.

“I want you to say it,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to his again.

You look up at him, and for a second you just stare, watch his eyes drag across your face, drinking in your expression. You try to focus, try to ignore the achingly slow caress of his fingers between your legs, the pleasure right out of your grasp, the dark heat in Tom’s eyes that’s making you crave giving in, making you wonder why you’ve been resisting at all.

“I’m yours,” you whisper.

Tom’s lips curve into his most dangerous smile as he leans back in, kissing you very softly as his fingers press a little harder, as you breathe harder, your arms wrapping around his neck again and he’s not slowing down anymore and you’re right on the edge, feeling yourself start to tip –

“You’re mine,” Tom says softly, and it breaks over you so hard that his hand smothers your mouth again, holding you tightly as you shift and writhe beneath his touch, unable to stop the moans.

Somehow, no one notices the two of you slipping back to the main party, no one comments on it, and for the first time, you’re glad that Axel pays you less than no attention because your absence passed him by entirely without detection.

“Time to go?” Axel asks you near ten o’clock, shrugging his coat on.

“I’m afraid you’ve lost your date, Pembroke,” Tom says smoothly from where he’s standing beside you.

Axel blinks at him, and you expect that a similar expression is on your own face, too. “Excuse me?” Axel says disbelievingly.

“Perhaps you might be more attentive, next time,” Tom continues casually, offering you his arm. “Very rude of you to ignore someone for weeks on end, you know, and that unpleasantness when you arrived tonight… shameful…”

You don’t hesitate before slipping your arm through Tom’s, and he immediately gives you a heated, knowing look that makes you smile up at him reflexively.

Axel’s gobsmacked gaze turns to you. “Are you serious?”

You shrug lightly, feeling strangely empowered.

“Goodnight, Pembroke,” Tom says very pleasantly, stepping towards the door and leading you with him. “Do find a new date to the next gathering, won’t you? Mine is spoken for.”

[onestowatch]

19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter. 

girl in red

In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see. 

Meet Me @ The Altar

“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?” 

chloe moriondo

For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.  

Allison Ponthier

Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

[castagna]

A little about me…

Name — Misu

Age — 21

Languages spoken — English, Italian, French

Pronouns — They/them

Time zone — EDT

Other interests unrelated to rp — jerma985, old Nickelodeon/retro cartoons, the paranormal, cooking, stardew valley, Tetris… it’s nice to share common interests other than rp with my rp partners/friends!!

I’m an artist!! So expect art from me throughout our rp <3

What about me and RP?

- I’m semi lit to lit; This means I can write anywhere from 100 words to entire PAGES for one reply. This all depends on what’s going on in the story as well as what your replies are like!! I generally prefer to stay within the 250-350 word range for my replies.

- I write strictly in 3rd person!!!

- I’ve been at it since I’m 10-12 yrs old (which is definitely questionable but oh well) meaning that I have somewhere between 9-11 years experience, and I’ve been a descriptive, long term roleplayer the majority of that time.

- I don’t do cishet pairings, and prefer mxm/t4t/etc.

- Super flexible when it comes to plots and whatnot!!! Also like to incorporate NSFW when it’s warranted, it has to fit into the story and feel natural for the evolution of our character’s story and the story in general. I’m cool with certain common kinks (bondage for ex.), but for the most part I’m very vanilla, just a disclaimer.

- I only rp on discord!!!!

What I’m looking for…

- I want someone who’s active, this means replies AT LEAST once a day. Cannot stress or emphasize this enough. I’m completely cool with there being busier periods, but I will not settle for an rp where I have to wait for one reply within the span of 2 days for the entirety of the rp. I prefer 2-3 replies per day at least, ESPECIALLY when we’re in a part of the story that requires us to reply somewhat quickly. For ex.. action pact parts are so much more fun when we’re firing replies until the climax is over VS replying slowly and the heat of the story not being felt due to the slowness.

- No one below the age of 21 with experience in literate/long term roleplay.

- Good communication!! I’m not perfect. If I’m doing something you don’t like, please talk to me!! I want both of us to have fun, and I’ll do the same for you.

- Someone willing to play a character who either switches or doms. I do prefer partners who prefer to play dom characters, but I really enjoy switch as well. Just no strict subs.

- Capable of undertaking more mature content (aka a of certain degree gore, abuse, mental health problems, etc). The reason for this is because everyone likes to have angst in their stories, but for me that means including real world problems to make the angst palpable/realer.

- Most importantly; a friend!! Someone willing to chat, share memes, music, crack jokes about our characters… All that!!

I think that includes everything I’m looking for!! Shoot me a dm if you’re interested and we’ll exchange discords. Ciao ciao 💜

[evanescentjasmine]

I’m going to talk about a little pet peeve of mine with regard to portrayal of poc in fic, TMA specifically since that’s what I mostly read and write for. 

I suppose I should first start by saying that, of course, poc are not a monolith, and I’m certain there are other poc who have many different views on this issue. And also this post is in no way meant to demonise, shame, or otherwise discourage people from writing poc in fic if they’re doing something differently. This is just a thing I’ve been noodling on for a while and have had several interesting conversations with friends about, and now that I think I’ve figured out why I have this pet peeve, I figured I’d gather my thoughts into a post.

As a result of the fact we have no canonical racial, ethnic, or religious backgrounds for our main TMA cast, we’ve ended up with many diverse headcanons, and it’s absolutely lovely to see. I’m all for more diversity and I’m always delighted to see people’s headcanons. 

However, what often happens is I’ll be reading a fic and plodding along in a character’s PoV and get mention of their skin colour. And nothing else. I find this, personally, extremely jarring. In a short one-shot it makes sense, because you’re usually touching on one scenario and then dipping out. Likewise if the fic is in a different setting, is cracky, or is told from someone else’s PoV, that’s all fine. But if I’m reading a serious long-fic close in the poc’s head and...nothing? That’s just bizarre to me.

Your heritage, culture, religion, and background, all of those affect how you view the world, and how the world views you in return. How people treat you, how you carry yourself, what you’re conscious of, all of that shifts. And the weird thing is that many writers are aware of this when it comes to characters being ace or trans or neurodivergent—and I’m genuinely pleased by that, don’t get me wrong. Nothing has made my ace self happier than the casual aceness in TMA fics that often resonates so well with my experience. But just as gender, orientation, and neurodivergence change how a character interacts with their world, so do race, ethnicity, and religion. 

As a child, I spent a couple of years in England while my mother was getting her degree. Though I started using Arabic less and less, my mother still spoke to me almost exclusively in Arabic at home. We still ate romy cheese and molokhia and the right kind of rice, though we missed out on other things. She managed to get an Egyptian channel on TV somehow, which means I still grew up with different cultural touchstones and make pop-culture references that I can’t share with my non-Arabic-speaking friends. She also became friends with just about every Egyptian in her university, so for those years I had a bevy of unrelated Uncles and Aunties from cities all over Egypt, banding together to go on outings or celebrate our holidays.

As an adult who sometimes travels abroad solo, and as a fair-skinned Arab who’s fluent in English, usually in a Western country the most I’ll get is puzzled people trying to parse my accent and convinced someone in my family came from somewhere. When they hear my name, though, that shifts. I get things like surprise, passive-aggressive digs at my home region, weird questions, insistence I don’t look Egyptian (which, what does that even mean?) or the ever-popular, ever-irritating: Oh, your English is so good!

At airports, with my Egyptian passport, it’s less benign. I am very commonly taken aside for extra security, all of which I expect and am prepared for, and which always confuses foreign friends who insisted beforehand that surely they wouldn’t pull me aside. Unspoken is the fact I, y’know, don’t look like what they imagine a terrorist would. But I’m Arab and that’s how it goes, despite my, er, more “Western” leaning presentation. 

This would be an entirely different story if I were hijabi, or had darker skin, or a more pronounced accent. I am aware I’m absolutely awash with privilege. Likewise, it would be different if I had a non-Arab name and passport. 

So it’s slightly baffling to me as to why a Jon who is Pakistani or Indian or Arab and/or Black British would go through life the exact same way a white British character would. 

Now, I understand that race and ethnicity can be very fraught, and that many writers don’t want to step on toes or get things wrong or feel it isn’t their place to explore these things, and certainly I don’t think it’s a person’s place to explore The Struggles of X Background unless they also share said background. I’m not saying a fic should portray racism and microaggressions either (and if they do, please take care and tag them appropriately), but that past experiences of them would affect a character. A fic doesn’t have to be about the Arab Experience With Racism (™) to mention that, say, an Arab Jon headed to the airport in S3 for his world tour would have been very conscious to be as put together as he could, given the circumstances, and have all his things in order. 

And there’s so much more to us besides. What stories did your character grow up with? What language was spoken at home? Do they also speak it? If not, how do they feel about that? What are their comfort foods? Their family traditions? The things they do without thinking? The obscure pop-culture opinions they can’t even begin to explain? (Ask me about the crossover between Egyptian political comedy and cosmic horror sometime…)

I’m not saying you’ll always get it right. Hell, I’m not saying I always get it right either. I’m sure someone can read one of my fics and be like, “nope, this isn’t true to me!” And that’s okay. The important thing, for me, is trying.

Because here’s the thing. 

I want you to imagine reading a fic where I, a born and raised Egyptian, wrote white characters in, say, a suburb in the US as though they shared my personal experiences. It’s a multi-generational household, people of the same gender greet with a kiss on each cheek, lunch is the main meal, adults only move out when they get married, every older person they meet is Auntie or Uncle, every bathroom has a bidet, there’s a backdrop of Muslim assumptions and views of morality, and the characters discuss their Eid plans because, well, everyone celebrates Eid, obviously.

Weird, right? 

So why is this normal the other way around? 

Have you ever stopped to wonder why white (and often, especially American) experiences are considered the default? The universal inoffensive base on which the rest is built? 

Yes, I understand that writers are trying to be inoffensive and respectful of other backgrounds. But actually, I find the usual method of having the only difference be their skin colour or features pretty reductive. We’re more than just a paint job or a sprinkle of flavour to add on top of the default. Many of us have fundamentally different life experiences and ignoring this contributes to that assumption of your experience being universal. 

Yes, fic is supposed to be for fun and maybe you don’t want to have to think about all this, and I get that completely. I have all the respect in the world for writers who tag their TMA fics as an American AU, or who don’t mention anyone’s races. I get it. But when you have characters without a canonical race and you give them one, you’re making a decision, and I want you to think about it. 

Yes, this is a lot of research, but the internet is full of people talking about themselves and their experiences. Read their articles, read their blogs, read their twitter threads, watch their videos, see what they have to say and use it as a jumping-off point. I’m really fond of the Writing With Color blog, so if you’re not sure where to start I’d recommend giving them a look. 

Because writers outside of the Anglosphere already do this research in order to write in most fandoms. Writers of colour already put themselves in your shoes to write white characters. And frankly, given the amount of care that many white writers put into researching Britishisms, I don’t see why this can’t extend to other cultural differences as well.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Soul medicine // Arthur x Reader // ear infection comfort.

Summary: You have a severe ear infection and all you want is Arthur’s tenderness to nurse you back to health. Luckily for you, he’s more than happy to step up so that he can take care of you!

~ Requested by @darkshadow90​💙😭💜

I hope that you enjoy this, darling!💝 I did this as headcanons because they’re quicker and easier for me to write; I wanted to get this out quickly so that it was still relevant to you when it was posted (and because it’s almost 4am which is the end of my study session so I can go to bed)! I hope that you feel better soon! Take good care of you and get lots of rest asdfghjk your health is more important than anything else!💓

Word count: 868.

You were in so much pain that you just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry with your head in Arthur’s lap and his hands, cool to the touch with a slight shake to them, on the top of your head.

It was an unrelenting sensation which only seemed to sharpen if you paid even the smallest amount of attention to it, and it had been all that you could do to phone into work to get the day off.

Usually did you do your best to simply carry on with your day, but the pain had been such that both Arthur and your manager had agreed that the best place for you to be was at home.

Though you had wanted to argue with them, you had decided that it was best for you to be home, too. You wouldn’t be any good to anyone at work with the level of self-care which you had to be giving yourself currently, not to mention the pain...

Oh, but it hurt. It was such an awful pain, and one which you wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Arthur was so loathe to leave you to fend for yourself this day, and so natural a caregiver was he that as soon as your call to your manager had concluded, he was on the phone to Hoyt so that he could phone in sick, too.

With a cheeky wink in your direction, a cough and a few well-timed sniffles, Arthur had secured himself the day off so that he could take care of you.

You were an adult who could take care of themselves just fine and so was Arthur, but one of his love languages was acts of service. He liked to do things for people, whether or not they appreciated them, and he wanted nothing more than to stay home to take care of you, his Y/N... 

...His one and only person who understood him, as it was written in his old battered journal so very long ago.

Back then, he hadn’t known that you would be his one and only, but he had fallen in love with you fast, just as you had with him, and on the day you had both met, neither of you had looked back.

There was nothing that Arthur wouldn’t do for you, and a part of him almost enjoyed it when you were ill, because it meant that he was able to step up and really take care of you in ways he sometimes entertained late at night.

As it was this day, with the level of pain which you were in with not one but two ear infections, the only place you were good for was the double bed which you shared with Arthur.

When you felt like this, you just wanted to be reassured that it would be okay, that you would be okay, and you wanted to be cuddled and loved on. 

Arthur had always been the paragon of comfort to you, the pinnacle of what it meant to be safe, and so as you carefully eased yourself back amongst the cushions which were at the angle you preferred for them to be, Arthur toed off his slippers and jogged around to the other side of the bed.

He peeled the freshly laundered, floral patterned duvet back and clambered in, immediately pulling you into his arms so that your good ear was rested against his thin chest. The hard ridge of his ribs was digging somewhat into you, but you cared not.

How could you, when in this moment were you living your very dreams?

“How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You moaned, “My ear is killing me, Arthur.”

Arthur hummed to acknowledge that you had spoken and with his free hand did he pick up his journal, which had been on his bedside table. 

“When was my last dose of... whatever you gave me?”

“An hour ago,” Arthur checked the times he had written down next to the names of medications which you had been prescribed, and then glanced at the clock. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, you still have a few hours to go.”

You nodded. You just wanted Arthur to rock you to sleep so that you could sink into all that he was and all that he would ever be and find your rest.

You just wanted to sleep...

Unconsciously did you nuzzle into Arthur, your arms wrapping around him as you hugged him to you as though he were a teddy bear, and the man cooed softly.

His hand smoothed over the back of your head. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll wake you when it’s time for your next doses.”

You were out before he had fully finished speaking, and true to his form did Arthur stay beside you, leaving only to use the bathroom if it was absolutely necessary. 

He kept meticulous records of your medications, times when you took them, if you had any adverse reactions... you were monitored oh, so very carefully, and he proved every moment that you were ill that he loved you, no matter what, and that he would always do his best for you and only for you.

His Y/N.

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[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety.  Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them.  Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. 

 Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out. 

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?” 

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored. 

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!” 

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked. 

“...No.” 

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?” 

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?” 

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained. 

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?” 

Virgil waited. 

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added. 

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure. 

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly. 

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.” 

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone. 

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to. 

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop. 

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully. 

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them. 

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?” 

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.” 

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.” 

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight. 

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.” 

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”  

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped. 

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?” 

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.” 

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie. 

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.” 

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?” 

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over. 

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.” 

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment. 

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.” 

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket. 

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?” 

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them. 

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something? 

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible. 

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it. 

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.” 

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?” 

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.” 

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say. 

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe. 

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?” 

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.” 

“Right, right,” Virgil said. 

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked. 

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him. 

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?” 

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?” 

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.” 

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?” 

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed. 

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off. 

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear. 

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked. 

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.” 

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

Logan shook his head. “No, never.” 

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness. 

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired. 

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building. 

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area. 

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway. 

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby. 

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.” 

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.” 

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?” 

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him. 

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him. 

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up. 

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.” 

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries. 

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly. 

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began. 

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise. 

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.” 

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face. 

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.” 

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding. 

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus. 

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words. 

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it. 

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly. 

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead. 

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees. 

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red. 

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.” 

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it. 

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.” 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus. 

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.” 

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.” 

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?” 

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?” 

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed. 

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees. 

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?” 

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while. 

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!” 

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge. 

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked. 

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?” 

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.” 

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching. 

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.” 

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”  

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.” 

“But, like, research? Drafts?” 

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil. 

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him. 

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.” 

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.” 

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to. 

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.” 

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?” 

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking. 

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?” 

Logan perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it. 

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05 

[an-asuryampasya]

[more armchair language-stuff rambling (been a while!), admittedly mostly written for an audience of me, under a cut since I remember my manners]

FASCINATING.

(well, to me anyway)

So idk what the official linguistics term for this is, but one pretty significant difference between English and the other two languages I speak is how words get combined.

Okay so first off, insert here standard disclaimer regarding confirmation bias. With that out of the way: When I speak English, I mostly try to keep each word of the sentence distinct as I speak it (and fail, but that's because /I/ personally am a terrible speaker. Anyway, I digress). The exceptions are contractions, but again, melding those words together is only accepted for certain established/common contractions like 'isn't' or 'ain't'. I can't expect to get away with saying/writing "mashtagether" or something instead of "mash together". But the thing is, in Telugu I sort of can.

I mean there's this whole section of grammar devoted to rules on mashing words together based on what sounds they start or end with (and they're pretty intuitive for most part, tbh) rather than a list of words like in English (i.e., is+not=isn't, etc.), and they apply to any set of words with those starting/ending sounds. These combined words are accepted in both, written and spoken Telugu too. (Even my url is a sandhi! It's a+surya+pasya=asuryampasya, if I'm not wrong. Sidenote: "if I'm not wrong is such a useless phrase for a reader. 'I'm saying this but I could be wrong, haha! So you can take away nothing from what I just said, except maybe that I'm annoying'. anyway, still using it though.) (Also, similar rules are also present in multiple Indian languages. Though I'm talking only about Telugu because that's what I have at least a vague idea about.) (Also also, yes I am incapable of not including a minimum of 68 asides in parentheses.) (Oh, also, if you're wondering, it's still quite easy to understand words even when joined together. "Mashtagether" makes no sense and is possibly hard to separate into the constituent words in English, but it's not so hard in Telugu. Idk why - the rules? the intuitiveness? not sure. Maybe just good ol' phonetic languages ftw? idk, anyway, back to the point.)

Anyway, I swear I'm going somewhere with this.

[....at this point I took a break to grab a snack and forgot the point I was going to make ._. ]

ehh ditch, too sleepy to care. moving on!

BUT. Aside from sandhis, there's another, informal form of mashing together of words that occur I think. At least, I think they're not covered by sandhis since I don't use them in written Telugu, but I could be mistaken. Or perhaps they're more accurately corruptions?

Anyway, the point is, these are more fascinating to me and I'd love to talk about them more, but right now I want to talk about one specific type of this corruption (as I'm going to call it). It's the first time I've noticed it be repeated in multiple words (with similar sounds, of course - which makes me wonder if I'm misidentifying it as a corruption). First, there's 'mom's brother'. In Telugu that would be your 'mamayya'. Except none of my cousins call my dad their 'mamayya', and instead say 'moyya'. (Well, more accurately they say Bobmoy since that's what 'Babu mamayya' eventually devolved into. It's also fun to say. See also: the derivative used by their kids: 'Babu tata' becoming Bobtat.) Or father in law, which in my part of the world is 'mamayyagaru'. But my mum was gently nudged to not pronounce it that way - and instead 'moyyagaru' is preferred. Now consider the completely unrelated word, raw mango! 'kaya' = unripe fruit, 'mamidi' identifies mango. So a raw mango is technically 'mamidikaya', but when spoken it's often called 'modkaya/maudkaya'.

For some reason, mama/mami words get converted into mod's.

They're unrelated words that underwent similar changes. Though I suppose that makes sense - Telugu is a phonetic language, and so it should be natural that these changes are based on the phonemes and stuff? (also I am aware that phonetic language isn't a techical term but bleh.)

okie that exhausts what I remember wanting to say and I can't be bothered to figure out a good ending or even edit, so uh.

this concludes this post?

Oh wait, I know!

fin.

[ephemerlskies]

lottery | pjm

⇢ pairing: reader x jimin

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, fluff, flufff, soulmate au, jimin is a dancer, strangers to kinda lovers to friends?? kinda? to ??? 

⇢ word count: 23.4k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, excessive cheesiness and pining, slow burn (prepare yourself now)

⇢ summary: everyone was born with a soulmate and a ring. when your soulmate was alive, the ring would be green. when your soulmate was close to you, your ring would turn white. and when your soulmate was dead, it turned black. yours turned black at the age of 20. your soulmate had died along with your hope. but then, one fateful day, it turned green again. 

a/n: this story went, and i cannot stress this enough, in a compLETELY different direction lmao. i hope you enjoy!!! also it’s partially unedited so forgive any grammatical errors or typos <3

When you were four years old, your mother explained to you that there is a human with a heart and a soul that is tied permanently to yours. That person was your soulmate, and if you’re one of the lucky few that meets them, she said, then you can thank your lucky stars that the universe granted you this gift. Some people spend their entire lives searching, hoping that their soulmate unites with them, while others simply give up or lose faith that they’d ever find their soulmate. And eventually, they settle for someone and love them as much as they can to fill that void. You couldn’t imagine yourself ever becoming the latter of those two kinds of people.

“Mommy, I’m not going to find my soulmate. I think my soulmate will find me! I’m so cute!” You replied ever so hopeful and innocent. Your mother laughed in response to your bold declaration while stroking your hair lightly. Back then, you never hid your excitement for the idea of a soulmate, and your mother told you to hold on tight to your persistence.

“Love finds its way of sneaking into your life unexpectedly. And when it does, it’ll sweep you off your feet just like this!” Her hands pinched the sides of your torso to represent her description of love, and you erupted with a fit of giggles.

When Jimin was seven years old, he asked his father, “Why do you only get one?” The concept that only one person out of the billions of people that walked this earth could be your destined lover didn’t register as probable in his mind. 

“Why would you need more than one?” His father asked in return, to which Jimin huffed. He was young and couldn’t express with the proper words how he had felt. The desire that raged in his heart to plant himself and his love in as many people as he could was something that always plagued him. He carried that burden the moment he fell in love with his first grade crush; Jimin knew from then on that waiting for his soulmate was going to be impossible for him. He would fall in love a thousand times before he’d ever become close to meeting his soulmate.

When you were ten, you told your mother with firm inquisition, “Mommy, I want to find them now! It’s not fair I don’t know who it is. I wanna be in love forever!” Your pout, though cute, was a bit worrisome. She remembered when she was  beginning to grow impatient and frustrated with the idea that out of the billions of people, only one could be your soulmate. She tried to ease your newfound resistance to waiting for your soulmate by saying,

“Baby, what is meant to be will come to you. Your entitlement to love is written in the stars, and so you just have to wait. Promise me you’ll never lose hope?”, you nodded eagerly and held your pinky out with confidence. Your mother curled her pinky around yours. She smiled at the way your eyes pleaded with the universe to send you your soulmate and the way you grinned when offered words of encouragement. 

When Jimin was thirteen, he raced home and said with all the honesty his young heart could convey, “Dad, I fell in love today. I swear I’m going to marry her, I swear it.” His father glanced up from his book to Jimin then looked back down, a small grin surfacing on his face. Though he knew there was no way in the world that could be true, he believed one thing Jimin said. He was in fact in love.

“Be careful with your heart, Jimin. I know you love so hard but don’t forget to protect your heart.” This succinct and thoughtful warning was spoken through experience. He scrunched his nose and trudged off to his room, believing his dad only said that because he didn’t understand. He did, though. Jimin’s father, like Jimin, was in the same position as he was. He loved outrageously and abundantly. It took him many heartbreaks for him to learn to allot his love more carefully. And he wondered how many heartbreaks it would take Jimin. 

When you were seventeen, you gained a comprehensive understanding of the soulmates, and the rings, and the chances of you finding them. They were slim, which was a difficult conclusion to accept, but that didn’t stop your stubborn self from never becoming indifferent towards the idea of finding your soulmate. This unrelenting hope had been instilled into you ever since you were young, thanks to your mother. And every minute of every day, your eyes never failed to check that your ring was green. Each time you peered down, you hoped to see it white someday. But as long as it was green, you promised your mother you’d never lose hope. You did everything in your power to uphold that promise.

When Jimin was nineteen, he experienced the worst heartbreak of his life yet. The words his dad spoke to him years back finally made sense. He still loved, and that love never diminished but it simply was only to be granted to those he knew wouldn’t hurt him. 

Most of your friends and peers were cynical of their soulmate rings, along with most of society. Modern technology and media have desensitized finding your true soulmate with corny dating apps that “help you find the one” and reality television shows that depict the lives of those who have found their soulmates. It was disappointing how commercialized soulmates and soulmate rings had become. The romance that once surrounded the concept of the soulmate rings had been tarnished by the world’s hunger to capitalize of the profits of soulmates and rings. It was common to not believe and a bit expected to lose hope, tragically so.

Your best friend Wheein was one of the few people you trusted in telling your genuine faith of the soulmate ring, and she of course took every opportunity to tease you for it. Though, she always held a tremendous amount of admiration for your ability to maintain optimism. And when she looked into your eyes, she witnessed the same unadulterated longing that your mother had seen for your whole life, and she felt like crying, “You’re crazy but if anyone finds their soulmate it should be you.” She found beauty and purity and everything good that exists in this world, all bundled up in your heart. The way you loved was as infectious and uncontrollable as a wildfire.

At some point, she realized she too constantly checked your ring to make sure it still emanated green.

It was a week after your twentieth birthday. You woke up in the morning with the heaviest pressure residing in your chest. You had no idea what this feeling was or why it was happening, but there was some cloud of uneasiness settling in as the pain grew more and more prominent. It dawned on you a few minutes later, and you felt your heart drop. Your throat began to close as you frantically searched everywhere for your ring. You usually didn’t take it off but you remember removing it when writing thank you letters for everyone who came to your party because the friction of the ring had caused somewhat of a blister along your middle finger.

Your breathing grew short and rapid, and every ounce of you was trying to deny that this pain could only mean one thing.  

“No no no no.” you muttered lowly to yourself, and just as your body was about to become undone with fear, you ran to the dining table to find your ring, “that’s not possible… please. That would never happen.” You didn’t know what denying this would prove, or who you were trying to convince. Maybe yourself, or anyone who has ever belittled you for believing in that ring, or to your mother, or to the promise you made, planted heavily in your heart for all these years. You rushed over to it as your face rose in temperature and your heart accelerated to about 200 beats per minute; it was pounding against your chest so aggressively it felt as if it could have shattered your ribcage.

As you grabbed hold of the ring, there it was. The suffocating, abhorrent color.

Black.

It covered the ring with a piercing and unforgiving hue that drilled right through your heart. You instantly collapsed to the ground. The turbulence of your breath being the only thing making a sound. You brought your knees to your chest and rested your chin atop them. Your eyes filled with tears and the wave of regret swarmed your mind; your eyes squeezed shut forcing the tears to flow even heavier.

Just as the ring was black, your entire world transformed and lost all color. All those years of pining over this stupid ring, all the work and endless nights of staring at that ring telling yourself that one day it would turn white or that it would stay green forever, amounted to the greatest defeat. And your belief in love had been violently dissevered from you.

Your soulmate was gone, forever.

All you could do was sulk in the cruel irony of loving the someone you have never met, never touched, or held or kissed.

Wheein was the one who found you lying in the same spot of the dining floor where you first discovered the ring. She couldn’t express how seeing you so hopeless made her feel. It wasn’t her loss, but her heart broke for you. She walked over to you and offered you a simple, loving embrace. She sat there with you for hours, unsure if she should be the one to speak first. The words didn’t come. All she could do was watch you turn the ring in your fingers over and over again.

You didn’t see it, but she cried the hardest she’d ever cried before, and wished she could take your pain away.

“What do I do now? How do I go on?” you whispered, a thick layer melancholy drowned in your voice. She felt relieved when you spoke then held you tighter.

“I don’t know, but I will love you a thousand times more than anyone ever could. Believe me, okay?” She planted soft kiss on your forehead and pressed your head into the nook of her neck. “This isn’t the end of your story.” You wept into her, and you believed her. You finally looked up at her, doing your best to regain your sensibility, and she noticed the blinding absence of hope; it used to be all she could see when she looked into your eyes. That was by far the most heartbreaking thing she’d ever witnessed. You had lost a piece of yourself that day, she knew that, and every day to come you will carry this in your heart forever.

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but love exists in every life in countless ways. You just need to find the strength to begin searching in different places.” Your mom said.

 Two years later

 Life without the green of your ring had grown mundane.

Your existence had become a routine and instead of waiting to meet your soulmate, you were just waiting. Most days everything felt okay, especially when Wheein was around. She was one of the few people that sparked some livelihood into your heart. Despite there being a small part of you that couldn’t accept what happened, you lived your life as if you had.

Still, you kept the ring. That same part of you that couldn’t come to accept that your soulmate had died was the same part that couldn’t let go of the ring. So, you kept it but never wore it around your finger. You were ashamed, for some inexplicable reason, that it was black. Your mom would always remind you that it wasn’t your fault whenever she caught you staring grievously at the ring. You knew there was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened, but somehow you felt this sense of failure.

Eventually, you settled on putting it on a thin, gold chain and wearing it around your neck where you could tuck it into your shirt and keep it hidden from the world. It was a gift from your mother. She gave it to you about a month after it happened, disguising this gesture as a late birthday present. She knew you wouldn’t be able to part from the ring.

Today was one of those days when you couldn’t to rid thoughts of your soulmate. You often found yourself imagining what they smelled like, or if they liked the rain, or what they wore to the beach, or what their eyes looked like when they smiled.  

Your daydreaming, pensive and glum, were interrupted by a ringing. Your eyes found your phone which read, Wheein.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself, “Are you lost already?” You chirped.

“Hey, people change! I’ve gotten, like, somewhat better at navigating.” She laughed, at first not wanting to admit that she was lost, “but on a totally different note, totally hypothetical question, where would you go if you were on 23rd avenue and needed to get to your apartment?” She questioned in sheepish confusion.

“Well, hypothetically, I’d take a right onto Ventura then turn onto 19th avenue and go straight until I got to my apartment.” You tried to hold back a chuckle about to escape from your mouth along with a boastful ‘I told you so’. “My apartment is on the left side of the street, by the way.”

“Yeah, me too, I’d do that too. I knew that, I was just testing you.” She replied, which counted as her special way of saying ‘thank you for helping me because I was in fact lost.’

“Okay, well, could you hurry? I’m starving and that new coffee shop has something like a cinnamon hazelnut latte that I want to try!” Your voice elevated in pitch just thinking about that cupful of sugar and caffeine. You’d like to consider yourself somewhat of a coffee connoisseur, you’d like to, but the reality of your coffee addiction was that you just loved sugary lattes.

Wheein fake gagged in response to hearing the drink you’d described, “___ that sounds so disgusting… You might as well eat spoonfuls of straight sugar.” Every time you expressed your cravings for sweet things, she couldn’t help but wince at the thought of it. You two were mildly opposite of each other which could credit why you never grew bored of one another.

“You say that as if I’ve never done that before.” You said with slight embarrassment, but Wheein laughed loudly upon remembering when you would sneak packets of sugar from diners and eat them in the car or at home. Wheein would quite literally slap the packets of sugar out of your hand while scolding you on how disgusting and unhealthy that was.

“Oh shit, how could I forget?”, she joked, “Also, I’m here. Open up!” You heard her voice outside your apartment and hung up while eagerly prancing to the door. You opened it and greeted her with a hug and she, unsurprisingly, did not reciprocate that hug.

“___, I literally saw you two days ago.” She laughed at how clingy you were, trying to pull away from you.

“Yeah but that was two days ago. Two days!” You rebutted as you stepped back and gestured for her to come in. You closed the door behind her and sat your couch while scrolling through route options to get to the café. “I can drive us, also we’re meeting Jackson there.”

Wheein nodded, “Yeah, cool.” You looked up at her and noticed she was pacing with a face that always indicated that she was contemplating something.

“What’s up?” You inquired with caution. She looked at you with a coy smile resting on her face. She didn’t have to say a word for you to know exactly what she was about to say.

“No…” You interfered before she got the chance to speak, “No, not again!”

“Come on! He’s really really nice and cute and funny! I promise he’s nothing like the last guy I set you up with.” She argued, walking towards you and sitting down next to you. She always had a few tricks up her sleeve when it came to persuade you to do something she wanted you to do. These include, but are not exclusive to, pouty lips, puppy eyes, and non-stop pestering. All of which she used right now. Wheein lifted her hands in front of her chest and interlocked her fingers together in a pleading manner. Your eyes were glued to how cutely her lip was protruded.

“Wheein…” You attempted to be stern with her, though there was no doubt in your mind that you’d give in eventually, “I’m not-“

“Busy?”, she interrupted, “Yeah, I’m aware.” She untangled her hands and flicked your forehead causing you to flinch and chuckle lightly.

“Hey!” You scoffed, unable to defend yourself, “I… I was going to say not interested.” You couldn’t help but laugh at her friendly jab, in admittance that she was right. She only answered with yet another puppy dog-eyed stare to which you groaned loudly. You then bitterly shot her a defeated look that spoke for itself and added yet another triumph to Wheein’s collection.

“Yay!” She clapped her hands excitedly, “Okay his name is Jimin. I’m pretty sure I’ve told you about him! He’s the guy that I met during my first year of college and he fell over in front of the entire class when we were doing introductions. Holy shit, it was hilarious.” Wheein laughed to herself when she recalled this but then shook her head to refocus her train of thought, “Sorry. Anyway, he’s a dancer, one of those fancy contemporary ones that does all the flips and stuff. He’s honestly super cute and if I weren’t the gayest women to walk this earth then I would have hopped on that a long time ago.” You had an outburst of laughter when she said this.

“He’s blonde and kinda short but that’s okay because size doesn’t matter.” You were convinced she switched her brain off when she rambled on like that, yet you found her absurdity hilarious. Your eyes widened as she let that last comment slip from her subconscious.

“You’re so weird.” You scoffed back at her, suppressing your laughter and preventing what could have become a ten-minute speech on why yet another one of her bachelor’s she set you up with was ‘different from the last guy’ and worthy of a chance. She nudged you gently, trying to enliven some excitement from you about this date.

“It’s true, it’s how they use it!” She proceeded causing the both of you to burst in a fit of childlike giggles.

“Okay, jeez, I’m already going on the date! You can stop now.” You wiped your eyes and clutched your stomach as it began to ache from how hard you laughed. It was always like this with Wheein, and you loved her for it even when you didn’t show that, “But, in all fairness, you’re right.”

Wheein nodded proudly and smiled widely before rising to her feet and pulling you up off the couch by your arms. You huffed as she forced you from your comfortable spot and followed her as she walked to the door, “Text Jackson to let him know we’re on our way!” She called back to you as you hummed in response and fulfilled her request.

“He’s gonna throw a little fit that we’re late.” You smiled, staring at your phone.

“Yeah, yeah, he always does.”

A few days later, you stood in front of your mirror and stared at the muted pink colored, semi-casual dress you tried on. The pile of clothes scattered across your bed soon catching your attention, none of which occurred by your own doing, but by the same pest that was forcing you on this date tonight. Wheein walked in rambling on about something you didn’t pay much mind to, “So I couldn’t find your red lipstick but I found this pink one-“ She paused and gasped, eyeing you down in your new attire.

“___, I love it!” She smiled, looking ten times more excited about this night than you did. You smiled nervously turning back to the mirror and inspecting it once more.

“You like it? It’s not too much?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you ran your hands along the side of the dress.

“Too much? Please, never.” She came up behind you, held both your shoulders, and turned you around to face her, “Turn.” Wheein proceeded to apply the dusty rose lipstick, her eyes fixed on perfectly lining your lips. She always liked to visit you and assist you in getting ready for dates, knowing fully that you needed that push of encouragement. These kinds of things were always difficult for you, and she tried her best to distract you from that damn soulmate ring hanging around your neck.

“Why do you say turn when you’re just going to turn me anyway?” Your muffled joke was shushed by the girl who was still meticulously filling in your lips.

“Shh, you’re gonna make me smudge it.” Wheein whined and lifted your chin slightly to get a better angle. To this you simply rolled your eyes to sarcastically jab back, ‘God forbid.’

As she finished with your lipstick you spun back around to examine your makeup and hair one last time. You nodded in satisfaction and stepped away from the mirror, checking the time to assure you weren’t running late.

Twenty minutes until the date. Now that you were finished getting ready, there was nothing left to distract yourself from how anxious and a bit unmotivated you felt. You began to absentmindedly twirl your ring in your hand while your foot tapped rapidly against the floor. Wheein reached out to grab your hand, along with the ring which was enclosed in it.

“You don’t have to take it off, ___.” She consoled, softly running her thumb along the back of your hand. Your eyes landed on hers, then you shook your head discontentedly.

“Wouldn’t…” You paused, fighting your voice from cracking, “That would be weird, though, right?” Your eyes fell back to your ring, which reflected that haunting shade. Despite your nerves still being on edge, Wheein significantly managed to ease your anxiety.

“No, and besides who cares? Its your body, you do or wear what you want.” Wheein was always so headstrong, that characteristic often served as a solace to you. “And, if Jimin does say something then, I’ll kick his ass. I’ve got a baseball bat on hand one hundred percent of the time.” She offered nonchalantly, generating a soft chuckle from you. Upon seeing your smile, she continued, “Hey,” you looked up to her, “What’re you thinking?”

“It’s not that I don’t ever want to find love. I do, It’s just- knowing that I lost them…” You inhaled deeply in attempt to yield your tears, “I know I could never love someone as deeply and truly as I would have loved them. It’s just hard to be excited about these kinds of things, you know?” Wheein pressed her lips together and she stared at you empathetically. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed your eyes gently, trying not to ruin your makeup.

“As much as that is true,” She paused, folding over the tissue and drying your other eye, “that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to find love. And that doesn’t mean the love you will find won’t be just as real.” She tossed the tissue aside and wrapped her arm around you, kindly ushering your head to lay on her shoulder. “You love me and I’m not your soulmate.”

“That’s true.” You sighed, finally tucking the ring into the front of your dress, feeling the coolness of it dangle against your chest. “But you are my soulmate.” You lifted your hand to squeeze her cheeks lovingly. She laughed, only allowing you to do this because she was truly proud of you for going on this date.

“At least I know I will never experience a heartbreak so painful as that ever again.” That comment elicited a few tears to well in Wheein’s eyes.

She sat you up and hugged you tightly, running her hand against your back. In that moment, she wanted to tell you that you were so strong, but she remained silent. She then pulled you up from your seated position. Wheein steadied you by gripping your shoulders, softly.

“Hey! No tears, okay? You’re about to go on a date with a super hot dancer with the legs of a god.” She rocked you back and forth gently to loosen up.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.” You groaned and smiled trying to release those sad feelings. Your reluctance to tonight was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to what you thought about dating; deep down, you did want to fall in love even if that wasn’t with your soulmate. You couldn’t tell whether you were disappointed or relieved in your ability to consider settling.

“Okay, well it’s almost time to go! Text or call if you need anything. You remember our code word?” Wheein led you to the door before exchanging one last glance. Your code word was the word you texted her that signified you desperately needed an out from the date. Both you and Wheein have used this word various times for you often found yourselves rescuing each other from awkward, uncomfortable, or creepy dates. Your nerves began to ease even more upon remembering you could always count on Wheein.

“I will, and yes: candle.” You affirmed, then stepping out of the threshold of your door. “I’ll probably be back around 10:30ish? I’ll text you when I get there!” You called to her as you began to walk down the hallway. “Oh, and don’t burn my apartment down!”

She laughed and waved as you turned the corner.

You sat in your parked car for a bit. Your hands squeezing the wheel tightly just like the first time you’d ever driven. You focused on steadying your breathing and shut your eyes. “You got this. You can do this.” You chanted quietly to yourself, “It’s just a date.” You opened your eyes and let go of the wheel. Your heart raced, but not enough to be too noticeable. You developed a knack for hiding how nervous you were when you went on dates, not without practice, however.

As you walked into the restaurant, your eyes scanned the area searching for the man named Jimin. You then felt a hand gently place itself on the back of your shoulder to which you turned a little too quickly. Your eyes landed on a man, who was notably attractive, and a bit taken aback.

He was smiling. The creases around his eyes complimented him so well; that alone weakened your legs.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” He chuckled, his laugh was childlike and charismatic and light, “Are you ___?” His eyes were puffy in the cutest way and his hair framed him so fittingly he looked like a painting. Your eyes wandered down to notice he was wearing a simple, white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a pair of black, fitted slacks. This outfit accentuated the curvature his legs, which were admittedly ‘god like’ as Wheein described.

“Yes! You must be Jimin?” You held your hand out and he met yours with his. They were soft and warm which relaxed you for some reason. You glanced down to his fingers noticing he was wearing his soulmate ring that illuminated green. Something you hadn’t seen in a while. At first you felt a bit of sadness settle in, but then that was replaced with a bittersweet content. For some reason, you were happy he was wearing his ring. To you that meant he still believed which was oddly reassuring, but it also reminded you that he wasn’t your soulmate.

“That’s me!” His voice was cheerful and welcoming, you felt jealous at how natural and calm he’d been acting, “I already got us a table, wanna go sit?” His hand gestured towards the table and you nodded, leading the way to the table. He pulled out your chair, revealing his traditional gentlemanly tendencies. You thanked him as he found his seat across from yours.

“This is really fancy! I feel like we should talk about something sophisticated like the economy.” You joked, to which he laughed in response. You’d already started to love his laugh. It reminded you of beautiful music, which encouraged you to do or say things to provoke this laugh.

“Yeah, maybe we should order fancy wine too, except I have no what that would be.” He played along, “Can I have your most pretentiously expensive wine? Preferably something with a gentle, floral aftertaste.” He mocked the way those elitist folks would order their drinks. You, being a previous waitress, had to admit that his impression was accurate. You and he snickered at this, and you mind drifted away from the necklace and every worry you had before this date

“Anyone who swirls wine and sniffs it before drinking it makes me wanna vomit.” You spoke between giggles, “One time when I was working as a waitress, some guy demanded he had a crystal wine glass as if anyone can actually tell the difference.” Jimin laughed again, inspecting the glass that stood in front of his plate. He picked it up and held it in front of you.

“So, in your expertise, what would you say this is?” You then pretended to carefully analyze the contents of the glass, theatrically stroking your chin as if you were in deep thought.

“Well that is definitely…” You paused, “Empty, and what a waste to allow such a beautiful piece of crystal to not be filled with the finest, oldest, snootiest wine.” The two of you continued to laugh and joke until the waiter came to take your order.

You cleared your throat to compose yourself. Jimin covered his mouth attempting to stop laughing as the waiter pretended he didn’t see the way you guys had been joking.

“What can I get for you tonight?”

“You go first.” Jimin said, and you did.

This was easy; he was making this all too easy. You thought to yourself as you watched him slowly expose more and more of his true self. You too were beginning to reveal parts of yourself that weren’t usually shown. You wouldn’t describe yourself as a closed off person, but this was certainly much more open than you were on any other first date.

As the date went on, you found it growing more and more enjoyable than expected. You learned he had danced ever since he learned how to walk. And you told him how you’d spend hours and hours outside staring at the clouds for one art project that ended up not even being graded. You and him spoke about the big important details of your lives like your parents and where you lived and your dream careers, as well as the small things that gave you insight on each other’s personality like your favorite song to listen to when you were sad or if you preferred waffles or pancakes.

It was simple, and normal and sweet. You’d never imagined going on a date with anyone but your soulmate would feel this nice.

“So, what’s your thing?” He questioned in between bites of his food.

“My thing?” You paused in thought for a moment, “I really like drawing, obviously, since I help design art exhibits. But I have to say, I’ve got some dance moves up my sleeves.” You answered playfully, and he laughed. You smiled at his laugh as if you’d heard it a thousand times before and your fondness of it increased every time he did, especially if you were the reason for it.

“Oh, that’s intimidating. Are you trying to show me up, ___?” Jimin joined along with your jest.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” You responded flatly despite the wide grin still plastered across your face.

“Hm, I don’t know, I think I gotta see these dance moves. Dinner and entertainment sounds nice.” He suggested, reaching out to lightly grasp your hand that was resting on the table. You wanted to ignore the fluttering that erupted in your stomach and traveled up to your fingertips and down to your feet, but it was too strong to ignore. Your face grew hot and you could tell your cheeks turned a bit flushed.

Jimin smiled cavalierly upon noticing your reaction to this move.

“Maybe some other time. We can’t let all these people know that we’re secretly children.” You laughed, avoiding eye contact with him. His confidence was magnetizing and intimidating all at once; you couldn’t keep track of how many times your eyes wandered everywhere except for his eyes because of this.

“So, does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” He construed from your comment to which you responded by snapping your focus to his eyes, finally. You were met with this affectionate glare, unable to prevent a nervous laugh to fall from your lips.

“And so if it was?” You responded and painted the best poker face you could manage, not wanting to give anything way quite yet. Part of you wanted him to confirm his interest in you, after all his ring was green, not black like yours. It was the giant elephant in the room, and you both were well aware you weren’t soulmates. However, neither of you dared to bring that up. You didn’t know how to interpret his soulmate ring, or the fact that he wore it tonight.

Was it just force of habit? Did he wear it in hopes you’d be the one? Is he put off by the fact that it’s still green and not white?

“Well, I’d be relieved to know you feel the same way as I do.” He said a bit hesitantly, “I definitely want to see you again.” Jimin tightened his grip on your hand, arousing even more butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

After dinner, you and Jimin decided that you didn’t want the date to end just yet. So, when Jimin suggested you two take a walk in the park across the street, you happily accepted the offer.

The night was warm, and when you looked up the clarity of the thousands of stars was overwhelming. Your eyes traced the silhouettes of the trees that towered over you and him, your stare fixed on how the stars danced between the spaces of the branches and leaves. The back of your hand would occasionally brush against his throughout your conversation and you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind it at all.

“Favorite movie to watch when it’s rainy?” Jimin asked.

“Princess Bride.” You replied.

“Magic Mike.” He said and you giggled, nudging him lightly with your arm. “I can appreciate attractive men.”

“What’s your pet peeve?” You interjected.

“When people wear flip flops in winter. No one needs to see that.”

“Ah, well then you’d be really annoyed with me.” He looked at you, puzzled and worried. You tried to keep a serious expression but a smile crept on your face. “Kidding.”

He nudged you this time. You didn’t notice that you had migrated closer, or perhaps he to you, and your shoulders bumped gently against each other.

“I hate when people make that gross noise with their mouth when they eat.”  

“Oh, like this?” Jimin leaned his head towards your ear to imitate that sound to which you dodged your head away. He laughed at your disgust. The way you scrunched your face at this sound made him forget about how his shirt itched against his neck, or how he had been a bit drowsy as it grew late into the night, or that he needed to pee, or anything else that would have made him want to go home. You were here, and it gave him every reason to stay.

As the conversation began to die down, he resourcefully brought up a subject that was commonly discussed on dates, “So, has your ring ever turned white?” His question, though heavy, had an innocent intent. Of course, you couldn’t blame him for asking. He had no idea.

“Um…” You cleared your throat for you were significantly caught off guard, “Actually, my ring is black.” Your reply was slow and bore such heartache that subsequently slashed into Jimin’s chest as well. Silence seeped in. You looked away from the sky, dragging your feet gently against the ground. “It happened two years ago.”

“Oh,” Jimin responded. He’d never met anyone personally with a black ring, and a sudden wave of guilt washed over him, “I’m so sorry for your loss, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Jimin. Don’t worry about it.” Your tone revealed to him that it meant more to you than it did to most people, and he felt even guiltier now that this topic was of discussion. He cursed to himself regrettably, realizing how well the date had been going up to this point.

“No, for real. It was kind of a personal question.” He attempted to console you; his eyes never left you. “I guess I never really cared about the ring that much.” To be fair, his was still green so there was nothing much to worry about.

“Yeah, I get that. I’ve been cursed with a hopelessly romantic heart ever since I could remember. I blame it all on my mom. I’m pretty sure it’s hereditary.” You smiled to yourself, reminiscing in the countless times you would tell your mom you swore your ring looked white just to make her happy. You knew it wasn’t white and so did she, but you hoped so hard that sometimes, it did look white. He hummed lightly in response to you. He didn’t want to speak because to him, hearing you talk, even if it was ridden with sadness, was unquestionably the most beautiful thing. More so than heavenly bells or calm tides that washed against the shore.

“I don’t think that’s a curse.” You looked at him when he said this, only to find he’d already been staring at you.

Why did he look at you like that, like he was reading every detail of your soul with such ease? And yet, for some reason, you didn’t mind that maybe you’d become entirely transparent to him. You were okay with being seen by him; and you liked the way he looked at you, warm and gentle and kind and caring.

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, like I said, I don’t think much of these rings.” He glanced down to his own, “I wear it because there’s no harm in it, but I’ve known people who end up miserable because they were never able to find their soulmate.” He looked back to you, noticing how your eyes were glazed with tears. Jimin chuckled softly, to which you, now, instinctively replied with a smile.

Please laugh. Laugh again and again and again for it seems to be the only think that makes the hurt not hurt as much. You spoke this prayer internally.

“You’re describing me to a tee.” You said quietly, feeling a bit ashamed of how many years of pining that amounted to such a heartbreaking end. He nodded with compassion.

“Exactly. I don’t want to invalidate your pain. I can’t say that I know what you’re going through, but I want you to know you have every right to be upset over this. People are so desensitized to these rings, it’s a shame how lowly they are considered nowadays.” It was refreshing to hear such kind words. Every so often, you wished to care as little as everyone else. You could only wish.

“What about you?” You asked tentatively, “I know you say you don’t care much about the ring, but it must mean something to you for you to say that, right?” You tried your best not to sound accusatory but rather curious.

“Yeah. I do and I don’t care. I want you to know that part of me doesn’t care because um, I really like you.” He spoke genuinely and those damn butterflies kept pervading into your stomach, “But I have to admit I do care about it. A part of me thinks it would be nice to find them.” He paused, “I’ve grown to realize, though, that if I spend my entire life only searching for them, then that’s robbing me of so many life experiences. So of course, finding them would be nice, but not necessarily ideal. Soulmate or not, you can love someone. Just because they aren’t necessarily ‘the one’ doesn’t minimize the amount of happiness they bring into your life. Every day I find more and more that love never really runs out. You fall in love with a lot of things. Your best friend, or your dog, or your favorite book, or the way someone’s skin glows so beautifully against the moonlit sky.” He was quite obviously referring to you, and you had caught this. “And no matter how many things get added to that list, love never runs out.”

As he spoke, you pictured Wheein and your mom and the feeling you got when you finished an art piece you’d been working on for hours. There was no denying how incredibly happy that made you. Everything he had said was right.

“Not only that, there are the people who lost their soulmate and still find someone to love. So, if this is all possible, what good would it do to close myself off like that? And you’d never know if your love for your soulmate would actually be better than your love for someone else, right?”

“You’re absolutely right.” You said, and it was all you could say without crying your eyes out. Hearing someone express their ideas of love like that expanded your perception about the soulmate ring. Maybe you had been too quick to ward off any other chance of love that didn’t come from your soulmate. You’ve heard the speech a million times before, but when he said it, it resonated so deeply.

Walking in the park with Jimin that night, you really believed there was a way to love again. You missed that hopeful feeling. “Thank you. I don’t know how you knew, but that was something I needed to hear for a long time.”

Jimin gazed at you; your eyes were soft and sad. He felt this overwhelming impulse to grab your hand and profess that he’d never let anything hurt you like that black ring did. He, too, was a hopeless romantic but he kept that piece of him hidden. You were the one to effortlessly draw that side out form where it was kept safe from the world. He prospected it ironic, almost laughable, that you had no clue.

Be careful with your heart. He’d been repeating this phrase throughout the night but he felt his guard surrendering to you. He didn’t stop it either.

Every bone in his body was urging for him to keep his distance, to not cross the line yet, but his heart craved to kiss you.

You halted when he stepped close to you. You predicted what was about to happen, and the timing of it was exactly perfect, and imperfect; and it felt like it was supposed to happen. So, you let it because you wanted to allow yourself the chance at love again, even if it wasn’t with your soulmate. He leaned in with caution, allowing you to brace yourself as his lips became close to yours. You could feel so much warmth radiating from him. The crickets chirped and the wind stilled.

You closed your eyes as he was about to kiss you until you felt an extremely apparent shock in your chest. It wasn’t painful per say, but livening. You felt as if the part of you that had been dull for two years was suddenly revived. Your mind dared to wonder if what happened meant the impossible. You flinched and jumped back from Jimin, and his face grew worried.

“I’m sorry!” He said immediately, “Did I just read that situation completely wrong?” Jimin’s hand rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“No! No it wasn’t you, I just” You tried to reassemble your thoughts to form a proper sentence but you couldn’t focus on anything other than what that feeling in your chest meant. You knew it was no ordinary sensation. Its feeling held remarkable resemblance of that pain the day your ring turned black, but this time it wasn’t a heartbreak.

It could only be properly described as a surge of rejuvenation that rasped throughout your soul.

“Is there something wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?” He noticed you were clutching your chest tightly. He stepped towards you in a concerned manner.

“No, I’m okay, I just, I think I have to go.” You half-mindedly glanced at him, and then down to his ring which glowed green. Your longing to see that color shine from your own ring again had never felt stronger than right now. It was alarming how certain you were that something felt different.

He simply nodded, masking his disappointment with his kind smile. “Okay, I, uh, I hope to hear from you soon.” You returned a smile unable to respond to him with words, then walked away to your car. You felt awful for the way you ended things so abruptly with Jimin, but now was not the time to worry over that.

There was only one thing on your mind.

Before driving, you slowly reached to grab the ring and pull it out from beneath your dress. Your hand clamped tightly around it, hesitant to check its color. 

There’s no way.

You waited a few moments, gathering the courage to look and placating your mind which was overflowing with confusion and wonderment. Finally, your eyes slowly trailed down to your hand, you could feel the heat rising throughout your entire body. Your heart raced at a violent speed, just as it did two years ago. Every thought and feeling that ran through your mind and heart was painfully familiar.

Your eyes rested in suspense on your knuckles, turned white from how hard you were holding onto that ring.

You unfolded your hands.

And the ring glowed green.

You were certain you had blacked out on the ride home, being that the next moment you grounded yourself back to reality was when you were gracelessly running up to your apartment. Your hands shook as you fiddled with your key to unlock the door, which became an almost impossible task.

When you finally opened the door, Wheein was waiting restlessly on your couch. She stood up with a bright smile, “How was it?” She then noticed how out of breath you were which was confusing, “Why are you breathing so hard, did you run home or something?”

You walked up to her without saying a word and lifted the necklace. She shot you a look as if you had lost your mind, then looked down at the ring. Her eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth that hung open in awe.

“What. The. Fuck.” She uttered, her hand muffling her voice. You shook your head as you pulled the chain off then placed in her hand. She took it immediately and brought it close to her face. Wheein elongated her blinks to make sure her eyes were not deceiving her.

“Is that even possible?” She asked, her attention glued to the ring.

“I don’t know. At first, I thought maybe it was a glitch? But I felt this weird sensation in my chest. It felt like I was struck by lightening or something.” Your hand returned to where you felt the shock. Your memory of that feeling was strikingly vivid that you swore it’s aftershock still reverberated in your chest.

“___, I don’t think the universe or god, or whatever the fuck that conceived these rings, glitches.” Wheein laughed at your comment, “Thank god for the internet.” She said conclusively, as she motioned you to get your laptop.

You ran to your bedroom then returned with your laptop in hand. You then sat down at the table and Wheein quickly joined you. She placed the ring next to your laptop and leaned against the table with one hand while bending down until your computer screen was in eye-level. Suspense singed the air

Your fingers quickly typed into the search bar, ‘Can black rings turn green again?’

Wheein huffed as you scrolled through the extremely limited results, “It’s so annoying that you type actual questions into google.” You laughed at her impeccable ability to tease you.

“Is that so important right now? Of all times…” You shook your head, finding an article that seemed like a reliable source. “Okay, the Global Institute of Soulring Research says that there are extremely rare instances of blackened rings that returned to green. They’ve only received, uh,” You scrolled down the page, “14 reports of this occurrence?”

“Damn, 14? In the whole world?” Wheein commented with disbelief.

“These rare cases are exclusively due to heart transplants since it has been proven the rings are directly connected to the heart organ. However, there is no explanation as to why only a scarce 14 rings returned to green, while most rings remained black even after a successful heart transplant operation. Researchers theorized multiple explanations of this phenomenon, but none have shown sufficient data to prove why the color changed back. Studies are still being conducted by our laboratories stationed across the world, but scientists are unable to confirm the cause of these rare instances.”

“Holy shit. ___, does this mean that…” She hesitated, “You know.”

“My soulmate’s heart is in another person. That’s pretty much all we can assume at this point.” You said, your voice sounded deflated and unimpressed with the answer the article gave. You stood up and walked to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

Wheein took the chair when you left and read another few articles and data sites, most of which had minimal information on this predicament, “All these articles are saying pretty much the same thing.” She sounded just as disappointed as you did.

You returned, taking long sips of your water. “So, basically this means nothing? Just that my soulmate’s heart is in someone who isn’t my soulmate.”

Wheein was surprised at your lack of effort to formulate a theory that proved you had another soulmate, “No, not necessarily. Think about it!” She paused momentarily, and upon observing you weren’t in any mood to entertain her demands she continued, “There’s a reason most rings don’t turn green again! It may not be explained but I think the fact that it’s so rare means that your ring turning green again has some significance, right?” Her words grew desperate. You wanted to give in, but this whole situation didn’t feel real.

“And what if it means nothing?” You snapped, your words were abrasive.

There had been so much pent up anger that you had to lose your soulmate. You, one of the few people who never allowed their faith in the ring falter until your soulmates heart stopped beating, were the one that had to lose them. It was so unfair and you never forgave the world for taking that away from you.

“I’m sorry, it’s just” You felt instant remorse for snapping at Wheein. Your eyes grew wet, but this crying wasn’t sorrowful. It was frustrated and demanded retribution.

“I died that day. I lost something that already meant the world to me.” You took a deep breath attempting to calm yourself, “There’s no certainty that this new person would be anything close to my soulmate. I don’t think wouldn’t be the same even if I miraculously had another soulmate.” You rubbed your eyes to clear away the tears.

“I understand that but, it just doesn’t seem like a coincidence?” Wheein urged, her unwavering tenacity found its use now more than ever, “It’s almost like the universe gave you a second chance. A literal, second chance.” You smiled at her, agreeing whole-heartedly.

There was a long silence. She wasn’t saying anything you didn’t already believe; she was merely reminding that you could never stop chasing your soulmate. It wasn’t in your nature to give up like that.

“Maybe, I’m scared. But I know you’re right.” You sighed at your aggravating grit, “I could never be fully content knowing I didn’t try.” This brought a smile to Wheein’s face. “I made a promise to my mom years ago, I want to stay true to that.”

“That’s my girl!” She grabbed your ring and placed it back around your neck. You lowered your head to assist her and lifted it back up. It felt so light and warm, you’d almost forgotten that it wasn’t always cold and dark. Wheein picked up your phone and you rolled your eyes.

“What are you planning now, you evil mastermind.” You tried to see what she was doing but she quickly evaded this and shifted the phone away from your line of vision. You laughed lightly, “For real what are you doing?”

“Sh, I’m calling in sick to work for you.” She responded. You immediately reached out and snatched the phone from her hand before she could do anything of the sort.

“Um, absolutely not!” You held the phone behind your back and out of her reach. She instinctively pouted out her lip. “No! Don’t you use those puppy eyes at me!”

“But, this is a miracle! And that’s not even an exaggeration, this is a literal miracle! Mission: find ___’s soulmate is a-go!” You laughed loudly at this assertion, knowing it well-intentioned and wildly unrealistic.

“Now hold on, as tempting as that sounds, I can’t go rearranging my entire life for this soulmate. How about we save that for the weekends, deal?” Your eyebrows were raised hoping she would yield to your request.

“___, it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore!” She claimed in a joking, dramatic way. “Certainly, you’re not the same girl who stood up on the cafeteria table and screaming ‘if anyone here is my soulmate you better show yourself right now!’” Her voice raised in pitch as she mimicked your younger self and her restlessness to find her soulmate. Your hand rubbed the inner corners of your eyes upon recalling that day in second grade, along with the years of teasing from almost everyone in your class. Wheein walked over to your kitchen and you figured it was impossible protest that what she said was wrong.

You did change. You had to.

“Well, I’m 20 now and have responsibilities like paying rent, utilities, and buying food because someone always eats me out of house and home! Look at you, you’ve already found your way to my pantry.” You laughed, this had become a sort of ritual when Wheein would come over. She just waved you off, proceeding to look through your stash of snacks.

You didn’t want to get into the real reason you had changed. At some point during the long period of grieving after your ring turned black, you lost that hope. You lost every sliver of hope because it was unreasonable. You missed it dearly, like an old friend.

It felt like that old friend suddenly walked back into your life with no warning. It never asked for your permission or waited for you prepare. It barged in without knocking and claimed its rightful place.

But you wondered if it was the ring that reunited you with this feeling. If not the green ring than what? Or more fitting to ask, Who?

Wheein was about to pass out on the couch before asking, “Oh, how did the date go by the way?”

That question twisted your insides. Your every thought prior to this halted. Your time with Jimin nearly slipped your mind but his laugh rang in your head.

You wished you could hear it again.

“It was good. Really good.” You smiled softly to yourself, knowing damn well what an understatement that was. Wheein was going to interrogate you about this tomorrow for sure but she was already half asleep.

As you were trying to fall asleep, two things seemed to be at war over which would take precedence in your mind.

One was who your soulmate is, and how you knew there was nothing in this world that could deter you from finding them.

Two was the fact that Jimin had single-handedly made you question everything you once believed about soulmates and love.

The next day you woke up to Wheein making some sort of racket in your kitchen. Before you were able to fully awaken, you began to wonder how big of a mess you’d have to clean up after Wheein was finished. This was followed by an incessant need to call Jimin and apologize profusely for abandoning him in the midst of your date. The only thing you could credit yourself with was handling things very, very wrong.

You stood up and sluggishly waddled to your bathroom. When you met with the mirror, you immediately noticed the green ring hanging from your neck reflecting to you. You’d almost forgotten. Your hand raised to touch it and make sure it wasn’t your imagination. This had been too surreal.

Next thing you knew, Wheein barged into your room, “Wakey Wak- wait where are you?” She searched your bed only to find you weren’t even in your room. Wheein turned around to discover you already out from the bathroom and sitting at the kitchen table.

“Oh! I made you breakfast! Even though you ruined the surprise and woke up before I could come get you.” Her passive-aggression made you smile. She joined you at the table where a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and two baked potatoes with cheese were laid out neatly.

“I give your presentation an A, but the real test is how it tastes.” You said, then scooping a bite of the eggs into your mouth, “Mmm, B-, they’re runny.” You said jokingly. Wheein crumpled up her napkin and aimed it right at your forehead. “Hey!”

“I’ll take that as a thank you!” She laughed and began to eat the breakfast.

“So um…” You swallowed your food and took a long sip of your orange juice, trying to stall what you were about to say, “Can I have, uh, can you give me Jimin’s number?”

Wheein nearly spit out the giant bite of pancakes she just stuffed in her mouth, “Really?” She spoke with her mouth still full of food.

“I just want to apologize about last night!”

Last night.

“Oh my god, wait I didn’t even ask you what happened! Tell me every detail!” She demanded, still paying no mind to her mouth overflowing with pancake. You laughed and cleared your throat.

Those butterflies came again just thinking about the date. You wondered if that feeling was going to become habitual every time you thought of him.

“I will later, can I just have his number so I can explain to him I’m not a total bitch?” You held your phone waiting for her to read you the numbers.

After she gave you the number while whining that she didn’t like to be kept waiting, you shushed her as you dialed.

The phone rang about four times before he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hi!” Your voice came out louder than anticipated which startled Jimin into fully waking up, “Sorry! Were you still sleeping?” You lowered your voice to an appropriate level.

“Yeah I was, uh, who is this?” Jimin replied, his voice was low and raspy in the mornings. That trait was alluring to you, so much that your attention lingered on the sound of his voice. You then quickly snapped back to reality.

“It’s ___! Sorry to wake you but I just wanted to call and tell you how sorry I am for dipping last night. I swear it wasn’t anything you did. I had a great time.” Your hand nervously tapped against the side of your leg.

On the other side of the phone, you heard his laugh. You were lucky he was one to laugh a lot.

“Hey! Good morning, ___. Don’t worry about it. I’m not as fragile as I look!” He laughed again before continuing, “Are you all good? You had me kinda worried.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It was probably just a panic attack or something.” You lied through your teeth. Your palm met your forehead in ridicule of that but you hoped it was believable enough to explain your actions.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you’re doing better today.” His concerned response was comforting. Jimin sat up on his bed now fully invested in this conversation.

“I’m definitely better, thank you. I feel so bad though.”

“If you really feel bad then I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” He said with a slight upturn in his voice.

He was flirting. You had no success with resistance. Jimin’s charm was enigmatic and had you not only reciprocating his energy, but willingly flirting back.

“Well, I usually charge big bucks for this, but yes, I’ll give you free dance lessons.” You playfully responded, feeling proud when he chuckled gingerly at your offer.

“You read my mind.” He paused. A momentary lapse of conversation occurred causing Jimin to frantically search for any lame, surface level question to ask you so you wouldn’t end the call.

“So, what are you up to today?”

“Well, I just woke up and I’m eating breakfast with Wheein. I think we’re planning on going to the mall later today. What about you?” Your fingers naturally started to twirl your hair. You felt like a giddy middle schooler when they would share a meaningless glance with their crush.

“I’ll probably go to the dance studio if it doesn’t rain today.”

“You should join us.” That response came a little too quickly and you swore you had no idea where or why you invited him.

All you were sure of was that you really wanted him to say yes.

“Are you sure? Last time I went shopping with Wheein she forced me to stop at the pet adoption and we stood there for an hour and a half while she swore to this one puppy she would come back and adopt it.” He recounted but was unable to explicitly say no to your offer.

“It’ll be fun!” You coerced, “Plus, we can eat delicious mall food.” You added with a sarcastic inflection.

“Alright, you convinced me. I’ll be there.” He never planned on saying no in the first place but utilized all the tricks in his book to prolong this conversation. “Only because that mall food sounds too good to pass up.”

You shook your fist excitedly in celebration and laughed at his repartee, “Okay, cool! Let’s meet up around two-ish, sound good?”

“Sounds great.” He said shortly prior to you ending the call.

Jimin held his phone against his chest and threw his head back onto his pillow. He chest heaved up and released a long sigh. Two o’clock couldn’t come sooner.

A month passed since your ring was green again. You continued to hang out with Jimin, however the romantic essence when you were together remained stagnant. He didn’t know what kept you at bay from ever moving things forward between you two, but he didn’t feel the need to ask. He always knew how to act around you even when there was something left unsaid. Your friendship did grow strong and quickly. Jimin felt like he knew you so well already, but yearned to learn more and more about you as the days came.

“Jimin, what’s that one piano guy that made the music for Swan Lake?” Wheein asked as she was scribbling some notes on her assignment.

“Piano guy? You mean Tchaikovsky?” He corrected.

“Oh yeah, great. Thanks!” She replied then mouthing the name Jimin had said while writing it down on the paper.

You returned from the kitchen with three sandwiches, “Here everyone! Gourmet pb and j’s made by yours truly.” You set them down one by one on the table where Jimin and Wheein were sitting.

The three of you had become somewhat of a team. Ever since the day at the mall, you guys made a habit of inviting Jimin along until it was a given that he would hang out with you. Wheein was already nicely acquainted with him and, now that his presence grew abundant in her life, she liked having him around. Not to mention that every time the three of you hung out it resulted in some of the fondest memories. Even though Wheein was just as close to Jimin as you were friendship wise, she was still a bit of a third wheel. She noticed how you two would exchange one too many glances and she’d constantly catch Jimin ogling at you while you were drawing or talking or doing pretty much anything.

Whenever you’d leave the room after a clear display of seemingly harmless flirting, Wheein would wiggle her eyebrows at Jimin and say, “You’ve got it bad.”

He wouldn’t say anything because there was no denying it was true.

“Do you have a band-aid I could use, Jimin? I accidentally cut myself with a knife.” You were looking down at your finger where a small cut resided. Wheein was confused but also quite amused with how that was even possible.

“___, you made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. How the hell did you cut yourself?” She asked with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, I wanted to cut off the crusts and cut them into little triangles! It’s cuter that way.” You gestured to the sandwiches which were in fact crustless and cut into triangles.

Jimin thought it was cute how proud you were of your PB and J presentation. Before you noticed how his eyes fondly laid on you, he nodded and said, “Yeah there should be some in my room, lemme show you where they are.”

“Thank you!” You followed him to his bedroom. As soon as you entered, you noticed it smelled exactly like him. This prompting you to inhale on instinct; it resembled what home would smell like if it had a scent. You then walked up behind him and waited for the band aid. Though you’d been in his room plenty of times before, you never stopped admiring how nice it looked. Most men have bland walls and bedsheets and desks but not Jimin.

Posters of his favorite bands, paintings, music scores, and pictures were hung along each wall. Your favorite being the photo of the dance team he’d coached for a junior league dance competition. Even though it was completely cliché, thinking about him interacting with children made you swoon. Something about his gentle positivity gave you an inkling that he was great with kids.

A variety of trinkets were placed neatly on his desk and bedside table. When you first asked them what they were, he excitedly explained the origin story of each and every one. Not once did you grow bored of him, though Wheein’s attention was entrapped in her phone not long after he began talking. If you were listening, he didn’t mind.

Jimin turned around and held up a small band aid, “Ah ha! I knew it was in here.” You peaked over his shoulder to discover his drawer was filled with various random, unorganized household items. You laughed at this, sometimes forgetting he was still a man after all.

“Jimin, how do you find anything ever?” You teased. He ignored your carp and replaced the tissue paper you held against your finger with the band aid.

“You’re very welcome.” It impressed you how he’d always know how to dismiss you when you would playfully criticize him. His hands were soft, and it became incredibly apparent that he was touching you. He finished positioning the band aid and seemed to realize your hands were touching too; his heart jumped and before anything got too tense, he pulled his hand away quickly. You nodded and thanked him. Your focus was pulled away from that moment when you noticed a new thing sitting on his bed side table.

It was a framed picture of what you guessed was a young Jimin and his mother. You walked over to it excitedly, leaning down to get a better look at it. “Oh my god, Jimin, this is adorable! Is that your mom?”

“Yeah,” He was giving you that same fond stare. Jimin came to realize you were the type to notice small things like that and expressed interest. These small gestures could easily be overlooked by anyone else, and usually people don’t care enough to make anything of these little details, but not you. You always noticed. Perhaps he was overthinking this trait of yours, but it made Jimin feel special in your eyes.

“Aw, lil’ baby Jimin! Look at your tiny little arms!” You squealed with eyes squinted from smiling. “What’s this one’s story?”

“My mom gave it to me for my birthday.” To this, you spun around and hit him with your uncut hand on his shoulder, “Ow!”

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday? What the hell?” Your eyebrows were furrowed, positively astonished he would keep something like that from you.

“What? It’s not that big of a deal!” Jimin reasoned, rubbing the spot on his arm that you punched surprisingly hard.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘I hate my birthday’ people.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. If you had known it was his birthday, you and Wheein would have certainly plotted the best surprise party of Jimin’s life.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you.” He looked away from you coyly, and you laughed. Jimin looked to the ground trying not to get too embarrassed, “It’s true though. I don’t know why but birthdays are so weird and uncomfortable to me.”

“How is getting a bunch of presents, having people tell you how grateful they are to have you in their lives, and getting an entire day dedicated to your existence weird? How could you not like that? I love that!” You shook your head, unable to comprehend how any sane person wouldn’t enjoy a birthday.

“Well, you make a good point but that doesn’t cancel the fact that, one, I hate cake, two, I don’t like people feeling obligated to get me a present, and three, people singing happy birthday to you is so awkward! Like what do you even do, where do you look?” He spoke passionately, making you laugh even harder at how devoted he was to argue this point.

“Okay you’re right. Making eye contact with someone while they serenade happy birthday to you is wildly uncomfortable.” He nodded triumphantly to your response.

“See I-” Jimin was interrupted by Wheein walking into the room and slumping onto Jimin’s bed. You and Jimin turned to her.

“What’s taking you guys so long?” She complained, sinking comfortably into the bed, “Were you guys making out in here or what.” Jimin’s face turned red and you scoffed at her insolence. You knew she was trying to fluster you both in revenge for making her wait.

“Jimin’s just told me his birthday passed, and we missed it and he didn’t tell us on purpose.” You snitched on him to change the subject as quickly as possible. Wheein sat up and widened her eyes in exaggerated shock.

“How could you? I’ve never felt more hurt in my life than right now.” She insisted as you smugly looked to Jimin. He remorsefully bowed his head the same way a child would when he was caught doing something he knew wasn’t supposed to.

“I am at a loss for words. Ladies, my deepest apologies.” Wheein laughed and looked back at you.

“Wheein and I will let it slide this time. We’ll make up for it when you least expect it.” You winked at Wheein then looked at Jimin with a mischievous smile.

“She’s right.” Wheein affirmed.

You loved this. You loved the way you felt around him. You never wanted things to change despite the glaringly obvious mishap of your green ring. You wanted there to be no need to tarnish that. Sadly, you knew that could never be the case.

You and Wheein were impatient, to put it simply. When the two of you wanted to get something done, you both had this now or never mindset. There was nothing wrong with that in theory, however this meant Jimin’s birthday celebration would undergo planning as soon as possible. You suggested the idea of a fun trip to the beach late at night when the crowds had cleared. Wheein loved this idea and expounded upon that by requesting there would be food, but not cake, candles, balloons, confetti, and a decorative set up for the three of you to enjoy.

It was around 10:00 pm by the time you were finished laying out a large beach blanket and a basket of food, along with the balloons that were held down by rocks you had found along the shore, candles placed on tiny dishes so it wouldn’t cause a fire hazard, and a mini speaker to play music.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees this.” You took a few paces back to admire the finished product. Everything was decorated with extra detail being that you were an artist who preferred things to look aesthetically pleasing.

“We really knocked it out of the part with this one. We gotta take pictures when he gets here to remember all our hard work.” She stood beside you and joined in your reverence of Jimin’s surprise birthday picnic.

You received a text from the group chat that Wheein had made of the three of you.

“Oh, shit he’s almost here! Let’s get in position.” You bounced over to the front of the blanket, as well as Wheein, to hide the surprise from Jimin and picked up handfuls of confetti to toss when he arrived.

You could see his figure in the distance, now growing clearer as he approached the area you had set up. He tried to peak behind you both, curious of what you were standing in front. Before he could figure it out on his own, you and Wheein stepped aside and quickly threw the confetti up in the air. The small pieces of tissue flitted down ornately which tied the presentation together nicely.

“Surprise!” You said in unison with Wheein. Jimin threw his head back giggling and his hands crossed over his heart when he saw what you two had planned.

“You guys! What is this?” He took a few steps forward, bundling the two of you in a hug with each arm.

“It’s just our way of saying happy belated birthday.” Wheein answered, pulling you and him in tighter to the group hug.

Jimin pulled away and inspected the blanket and the items placed neatly over it. His hands cupped both his cheeks and he was so grateful that he’d almost forgotten how much he hated birthdays.

“I absolutely love it. Thank you, guys so so much.”

“Before you start worrying, there is no cake, there will be no singing, and this picnic is kinda our ‘gift’ so technically, no gifts!” You added, walking over to the blanket and seating yourself. You motioned for the other two to join you and they joyfully obliged.

The rest of the night was filled with lots of laughter, long talks, two emptied wine bottles as well as a plate now cleared of all its food, Wheein daring you to run into the water to which you refused adamantly, and exactly one corny speech from Jimin about how much he appreciated you and Wheein.

“A few months ago, I was so stressed and overwhelmed with life. I had this huge fight with my dance teacher and my boss told me she had to cut back my hours because we were overstaffed so I was worried about rent and stuff. If I’m being honest I wasn’t all that great mentally. I don’t know it was rough for a while. Then I met ___, and we all started hanging out and it made me really happy.” He looked down at his wine glass, trying not to get too emotional, “Anyway, I really appreciate you guys for being in my life.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, giving him a partial hug from the side. Wheein pretended to be disgusted with this, but you caught her tearing up while Jimin was talking.

“And we really appreciate you were born and didn’t get scared off by us when we forced you to become our friend.” You said before pulling Wheein into the hug.  

“This is the absolute worst timing but I have to pee…” Wheein huffed as she stood up contemplating what to do.

“The ocean’s right there.” Jimin said, holding his hand out to point to the shore.

“Absolutely not! Not in front of you!” She kicked him lightly and he chuckled.

“I’ll turn away!”

“No, I read this story once about how a worm swam up into someone’s – thing – when they peed in the ocean. I’m not about to have a parasite living with me, I’ve already got you two!” You nodded as this claim was irrefutable. Jimin laughed, never getting tired of Wheein’s hilarious quips.

“We can go back to my place?” You suggested.

“No no no, I haven’t even gotten to force you two to get into the water yet. And its only,” She paused to check her phone, “Twelve. Also, I thought we were gonna stay and watch the sunset!” She tapped her foot against the sand. “Okay, ___, give me your keys. I’m going to quickly drive to the gas station I saw a few blocks down and pee there. I promise I won’t abandon you guys here.” Wheein held out her hand to you, waiting for you to give her the keys. You fumbled in your purse and pulled them out.

As she ran to your car, Jimin shook his head still humored at what Wheein said, “She’s something else.”

“Definitely one of a kind.” You concurred. “On another note, I’m glad you enjoyed this. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t worry you would feel uncomfortable.”

“No, ___, this was perfect.” He said reassuringly. Jimin gazed at you every chance he got. You were looking at the sky and admiring the way the stars shined so brightly. To you, they always seemed to glow significantly more when it was you and Jimin underneath them. He revered the way you looked so in love with the stars, or how you looked so in love with life in general even after what you had been through, and felt his heart race at the sight of your hair flowing gently in the breeze. “You nailed this one, ___.”

“Yeah, I know.” You said confidently as you brushed your shoulders to display your pride. Jimin chuckled at your action.

His laugh. His damn laugh. You thought to yourself and if you could, if you had any ounce of courage, you’d ask him to never stop laughing.

The song “Moon River” began to play on the speaker; Audrey Hepburn’s exquisite voice filled the air. Jimin was aware about how fitting this song with to the ambiance of the night that now only belonged to the two of you. When Wheein left to go to the restroom, the platonic atmosphere followed.

“I actually do want a birthday present.” He spoke quietly. “Dance with me?” Jimin’s nervous laughter trailed his question.

You looked at him unsure of how to interpret this painstakingly romantic request. But, how could you say no when he smiled like that? You nodded without saying a word.

He stood up eagerly and lowered his hand to you. Your hand held his as he pulled you up and stepped close to you. Jimin’s free hand traveled to the small of your back, sparking light tingles that cascaded down your spine. Your free hand met his shoulder; originally your muscles were stiff but the way he swayed you had naturally relaxed you. Eventually your head rested on his opposite shoulder and you felt his head rest gently on yours. As the music played, you felt as if not just this moment, but the whole world belonged only to you and Jimin.

He could have confessed his love for you, but instead he said, “You look beautiful tonight.”

Your heart raced.

“Thank you.” You said quietly after a short while. “You look beautiful too.”

“Thank you.” He whispered. You two swayed along for another three songs in silence, and you and jimin would have danced forever if that were an option.

“At this point, you should just quit dancing because I’m clearing running circles around you, Jimin.” You pulled your head back to look at him, and you noticed it looked as if he’d been crying. However, you didn’t say anything about it because you knew why. You were terrifyingly aware and at the same time in denial about how surely you knew why.

“Yeah, you still never gave me those free dance lessons. I’m not letting that go.” He smiled brightly causing his eyes to squint. You scrunched your nose at him and looked down.

“That’s right. Maybe I should show you some moves right now?” You offered.

Jimin raised his eyebrows then swiftly spun you around and wrapped his arm around your lower back to dip you. You gasped and laughed in shock, your head falling back slightly as he held you in this position. When he pulled you up, you were both unable to let the smiles you had subside. He reached his hand to gently remove a strand of hair from your face, curling it delicately behind your ear.

He was seven years old again. His love raged again. This time it was you who planted themselves in his life and he wanted to give you all the water and nutrients and sunlight to grow in his heart forever.

The boy stepped away slowly and gestured for you to, as he put it, show him your moves.

“Okay hold on.” You retrieved your phone and scrolled through your music playlist to find a song that best suited what you were about to do, “Perfect!” An upbeat 80s disco song began to play.

You then contorted your body in a way to resemble a robot, “Check this out.” You lifted your arm and swung it to imitate a machine-like movement. Jimin found this too good to let it go to waste and secretly filmed on his phone what you were doing.

“I can see you’re taking a video and I’m only letting you do that because it’s your birthday.” You then proceeded the switch to a different dance move, “I like to call this the wave. I’m sure a rookie like you hasn’t heard of it.” You raised both of your arms to shoulder level and rolled them back and forth.

“Wow, your technique is absolutely immaculate!” He commended while laughing so hard he gripped his stomach and bent over. He soon joined you in dancing around in the sand.

“What are you two weirdos doing?!” You both turned around to find Wheein running over from the car with her hands cupped around her mouth as she called out.

“Dance party!” You yelled which was overlapped by Jimin’s voice.

“We’re dancing!”

Wheein laughed as she neared the two of you. “Last one in the water has to clean up our stuff!” She said while passing you and Jimin and heading straight for the water.

Jimin was quicker to react and chased after Wheein, pushing her lightly to throw her off track, soon followed by you racing to catch up. Though you swore you wouldn’t go into the water, you ran towards it with no hesitance. You’d follow them anywhere.

“No fair, you got a head start!” Soon all three of you crashed into the water. The waves were tame, but they still had a slight force that pushed the water as high as your waist.

Wheein pulled you in deeper and Jimin splashed the water at you two. You both screamed and laughed and played like children.

You wished that night would never end.

The minute you decided to tell him your ring was green again; you knew things would have to change and you dreaded it. It grew increasingly difficult to keep that from him and a part of you felt like you were misleading him by not telling him the truth.

“I owe it to him. I don’t know exactly what’s going on between the two of us. I clearly think of him as more of than friend. I’m not denying that, but you know I can’t do anything about that, not with this.” You’d say as you held up your ring for reference.

“You don’t have you. You could just let things play out and hope for the best?” Wheein suggested knowing this wouldn’t suffice.

“I can tell he likes me more than a friend. I can see it every time he looks at me with those puppy eyes.” You gave her a disapproving look and she nodded.

“I know you’re right. I just don’t want Jimin to be too hurt, you know? The guy is a softie at heart.”

She was right. Jimin would act like nothing ever affected him, but out of the three of you, he was the most sensitive and experienced his feelings the most intensely. Just the idea of what his face would look like or how his smile would dwindle when you told him about your ring made your heart drop to your stomach. There was no way to avoid this, because like you said, you owe Jimin complete honesty and you refused to abstain anything less than what was best for him.

“I know, and I don’t know if I could ever forgive myself for doing this.”

“You didn’t let me finish. He’s a softie, but so are you. ___, I’m worried about you too. Are you sure letting this go is the right decision? I can tell you’re already starting to miss him and you haven’t even let him go yet.” She placed her hand on your back to comfort you. Wheein knew you well enough that she didn’t have to ask how you were feeling.

“I appreciate your concern, but I have to do this.” Anticipation began to seep through your veins. “Right? I mean my whole life I’ve been dedicated to ending up with my soulmate. I’ve ended things with so many guys before things got too serious. And I had no problem doing it then, but this time.” You began to tear up picturing Jimin, “It’s so much harder.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do. That’s up for you to decide but I hope you know I will support your decision. Whichever it is.” Wheein pulled you into a hug, soft and reassuring. You propped your chin on her shoulder and ran your hands along her upper back.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

As you pulled away, you looked down at your ring and for once, you didn’t feel that excitement upon seeing it green. Instead, it became burdensome that you felt this obligation to honor it. You were beginning to feel trapped. As if this decision wasn’t up to you anymore, but to this ring.

A few days later, you and Jimin were sitting out in the same park that you walked along on your first date together. The grass danced with the wind and the tree that loomed above the two of you provided the perfect amount of shade from the sun. Gentle rays of sunlight permeated among the leaves and their shadows danced along yours and Jimin’s bodies. The air felt clean and cool, giving perfect ambiance to spark inspiration for your artwork.

Jimin was laying down beside you, staring up at the sky while you two chatted nonsensically for hours.

“I’ll give you five bucks if you can guess what kind of bird just chirped.” He spoke lazily while his eyes trailed their way to you.

“Ostrich.” Your replied with a candid tone and your eyes transfixed on the page in front of you. Jimin chuckled lightly which diverted your attention to him as it always did.

“Just for that I’m eating the rest of your blueberries.” He shoved all of them in his mouth causing his cheeks to puff out. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find that adorable, and yet you played it off with a unimpressed glare.

“I was gonna eat those, butthead.”

These small exchanges would fill the silence every so often. But even when neither of you spoke, you felt no desire to say anything. Just sitting with him in that park was enough to delight you.

You stared at Jimin as his eyes traced the puffy clouds above. With your pencil in hand, inspiration struck. This scenery was so picturesque, it would be a crime to not capture every bit of joy it exuded.

You turned to a blank page in your sketchbook and started to outline the shape of Jimin’s face and body. Your pencil glided against the paper gently, that sound of charcoal running along the pages of your sketchbook grew fond to Jimin’s ears. He rarely looked at what you would draw because he knew your sketchbook functioned as your version of a diary; he simply loved that sound because it meant you were beside him.

You quickly sketched each curve of his body along with the bed of grass on which he lied and the tall tree behind him with as much precision as you could before he shifted positions. Then you began to add shading and small details that livened the drawing a bit more. Once you were finished, you held your finished work out to examine whether you were satisfied with it. You nodded to yourself then nudged Jimin.

He turned his head towards you and raised his eyebrows in substitution of a vocal acknowledgment.

“Look.” You gently tossed your book onto the grass near his head.

He quickly sat up and lifted the book with both hands. He rested it on his lap and gazed at it for quite a while. A smile slowly appeared on Jimin’s face and he thought to himself how beautifully accurate you were at being able to capture these moments in life. This moment was precious to him, along with every other moment he spent with you doing nothing.

And those nothing moments were everything to him. They were everything to you too.

“___, you never cease to blow me away.” Jimin spoke in a whisper because he only wanted you to hear. He wanted so desperately to kiss you.

Oh god, your conscious couldn’t handle keeping it in anymore. You had to tell him.

“So um, Jimin. I don’t know how to say this…” You laughed nervously due to how uncomfortable you were with this even before the conversation started.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, and before he could realize what was about to be said was going to be serious, he said, “I know what you’re going to say. You lied and totally didn’t watch the movie I recommended to you!”, earning a soft chuckle from you. It substantially lighted the mood. He tied with Wheein for always knowing how to ease your nerves without even trying.

But your face returned blank when you finally gathered the courage to blurt it out, “My ring turned green again.”

His smile vanished and it was an absolute tragedy you were the reason for that.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.” He knew what this meant. He knew what you were going to say before you even said it. He stood up and paced around the area, prompting you to get up and trail behind him. He had a habit of lacking the ability to sit still when he was facing something that troubled him.

He struggled to figure out what he felt about this. Every emotion blurred and converged into one unsettling mess.

“I’m not going to pretend like this is easy for me because its not. I like you and spending time with you has made me so so happy, please believe me when I say that.” Your voice began to shake. Jimin hated when your voice sounded anything but cheerful.

“I know it sounds like bullshit, but I’m being honest, god, I can’t convey how much you mean to me. I know we only met months ago but I feel like what we have isn’t some fling. Like, you’re already one of my best friends.” Those words, though consoling in theory, pained Jimin so deeply. He wanted to be more than that.

“I don’t think of you as some back up to keep me from being lonely if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d be damned before I let you believe that, but I can’t just ignore-” The hundreds of things you were practicing in your head had spilled out of your mouth in a jumbled mess. It was much more difficult to say these things to Jimin than your bathroom mirror or Wheein.

“Stop,” He spoke with such poise that you did nothing more but obey. His footsteps halted and You pressed your lips together in fear of what was about to be said. He was staring at the grass, the green color mocked him. Jimin hated green right now.

It pained you to see he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you.

He’s going to hate you forever. You thought to yourself and you tried to brace your heart for losing him forever. All because you lacked the backbone to be honest with him from the beginning.

He didn’t speak for a while, for what felt like an eternity. The wind that whipped against the leaves of the trees and blades of grass filling the silence you were once comfortable in.

Jimin suddenly turned around and wrapped his arms around you; your head was pressed tightly against his chest and his chin rested gently atop your head so perfectly. You could feel how hard his heart was beating, each tap synchronized with your heart.

“You idiot, why are you apologizing?” Your eyes closed to obstruct any tears that were about to form.

“You know why.” Your words were muffled, which Jimin found tortuously adorable. “You can hate me if you want.”

He laughed softly, that alone expressed more to you than any number of things he could say.

The sound of his laugh that you’d grown to miss on the days you hadn’t seen him never sounded so beautiful. When he laughed, he painted himself on a canvas for you to admire and with each stroke he added, you were able to learn every intricate detail of him.

Jimin’s laughter spoke to you, you swore it. You clearly heard it tell you that he could never and would never hate you. Comfort and ease. You never felt anything less than comfort and ease in his arms.

“___, I know how much this means to you.” He planted a soft kiss against your head which felt like a goodbye. Not to you, but to the hope that he could ever take the place of your soulmate. The smell of your hair exuding off so gently, and he thought you smelled like vanilla and stardust. Jimin did everything he could to sound strong. He wanted nothing but to be happy for you, and if this meant he had to let you chase after your soulmate there was no way in the world he’d let his feelings stop you from doing that. “I’m already planning a want ad that will be posted on every building within a hundred-mile radius!” His voice rose in enthusiasm. You could tell it was all a façade.

“You don’t have to act like you’re okay.” Your head nestled against his chest.

“I am.” He quickly replied then repeated, “I am.”

If only he could have made this easier on you. If he would have gotten mad or yelled at you or said he would never forgive you then doing this wouldn’t hurt as much as it did. But he did none of that. He was ever so kind and understanding and selfless.

You nuzzled your face deeper into his chest as a cross between a sigh and a laugh released from you. He acted like he didn’t care that you had just “broken up” with him. Jimin was nothing if not selfless.

Your ring was green. You had another chance to find your soulmate; it was everything you’d ever hoped for your whole life. So, why did you feel like you’d just made a mistake?

“Jimin, I know I hurt you. I was scared to tell you because I didn’t want to lose you. I just,” You huffed, “I just should have been honest. I’m sincerely sorry. You are the last person I want to hurt.” Jimin looked down at you and you stared up at him. He couldn’t stand when you frowned, which inclined him to use his thumbs to lift the sides of your mouth, so it looked like you were smiling. You laughed at this sweet gesture.

“This soulmate of yours better not be a dancer or we’ll have a problem.” He joked in attempt to evade how true what you said was. You threw your head back laughing again.

All Jimin really cared about was that you were always in his life. And even though it felt like you had ripped every root of yourself out of him, he knew he would keep that spot in his heart empty for you. 

For you, and every nothing moment. Nothing was everything with you,

You were completely drenched in sweat and jolted awake from your sleep. Your first instinct was to call Wheein, but you remembered she had an exam the next day.

You then picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts until you found the name you were looking for. You pressed the call button with your thumb and brought the phone to your ear.

The phone rang shortly before being picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.” You greeted her softly. Her voice was soothing and low.

“What’s wrong, honey?” She asked since it was late in the night and you calling her only meant it was fairly important.

“I just had this really weird dream.” You answered, still perplexed and trying to remember the details of it. You shut your eyes to picture the dream before it faded from your memory, “I was in art class and we were doing this activity where we had to close our eyes and draw something that made us happy. It was something to like exercise our skills of drawing with emotion rather than precision, something like that.” She hummed, listening intently to what you were describing.

“Okay, and so I did it and I wanted to draw what I imagined my soulmate would look like because duh, you know me.” You stood up and paced around your dark room.

“Yes, that sounds about right.” Your mother chuckled softly while she quipped back to you.

“Okay but when I opened my eyes you would not believe who I drew.” You stopped for a second envisioning the face that stared back to you. It made you tense just thinking about it.

“Who?”

“It was Jimin.”

“Jimin? That nice young man you’ve been hanging out with recently. I think you’re absolutely smitten, honey.” Your mom sounded so casual when saying this.

“But…” Your pacing began to speed up, “He’s not my soulmate. I- I don’t know what to think of this. Maybe it’s just my brain? It’s not like you can control what you dream.” You began to ramble in attempts to affirm this didn’t mean anything serious.

“I don’t know, ___. That is an oddly specific dream.” She sounded critical of your aversion to admit this. “Why not give him a chance?” She suggested hesitantly.

“What?” You scoffed in amazement, “I can’t believe you out of all people would say that.” You knew that she knew exactly where your confusion was coming from.

“I know.”

“So why would you say that? I mean, finding my soulmate was something both you and I wanted ever since I could remember?” You grew exhausted from your pacing and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Look. I wanted you to believe in your soulmate. You’re right in that, but it wasn’t just your soulmate I wanted you to believe in. All I wanted, all I’ve ever wanted, was for you to never give up love itself. This world has a way of breaking your heart countless times, and I’ve been around enough to see how empty people’s lives are if they live without love in it. I just wanted to teach you that living a loveless life was meaningless. I refused to allow you to live a meaningless life. I thought that your soulmate ring would act as a reminder that I loved you and I believe you deserved to be loved, but it grew into some dependence on finding your soulmate. ___, when your ring turned black, I realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have glorified the ring as much as I did because ring, or no ring, soulmate, or no soulmate, there is no denying that you have feelings Jimin. I can hear it in your voice every time you talk about him. You’d be insane or oblivious to not pick up on that and I know you’re neither of those things.” Your mother waited for you to respond.

You remained silent and still. Your eyes had spaced out to glare at the corner of your room. Coming from anyone else, you would have disregarded their opinion on what you felt for Jimin; your mom, however, was an entirely different story. Hearing it out loud triggered a domino effect in your mind. You realized that your perception of what your mother had been trying to teach you was warped by your obsession with this ring. That hit you and crumbled you like a bulldozer broke down a brick wall. This left you wondering how you’d reconstruct yourself from this. You’d always thought that you were better than those who don’t care about your ring, but now you worried that your intense dedication to it burdened you for your entire life.

It wasn’t your mother to be blamed. You fed the fire more than anyone else could and you see that now.

“Wow.” You were speechless, “I’m an idiot.” You said as if that were some monumental revelation. “He’s not my soulmate and he still has his soulmate out there too.”

“Yes, but you love him. That trumps all reason and resistance. Love will always trump all of that.” A blunt rebuttal spoken with such softness from your mother. “I think you should talk to Jimin.” Your mother said in that classic mother knows best tone.

“I think I agree.”

You and Wheein sat against the back wall of the small dance practice room. Each wall was covered with large mirrors and you’d grown acquaint to this environment. Jimin had been rehearsing a routine for his next show; it was in two weeks and despite him saying that it was one of his less important performances, you insisted you’d be there in the front row cheering a little too loudly.

Your eyes would waver between your sketch book, then to Jimin, then to your book, and back to him. You did your best to portray his dancing as graceful as it was to see in person, but you found it impossible. There was no way to recreate such beauty; this was the one thing that your art could never quite achieve, for every imitation of his movements were inferior, pathetic almost, to the real thing.

Wheein, on the other hand, was far from invested in Jimin’s practicing which didn’t come to a surprise.

She wasn’t utterly in love with him.

She peeked over to your drawing followed by rolled eyes. She grabbed her phone and texted you with a disapproving expression.

Wheein: so are u going to ask him to marry u now or later?

The text notification caught your attention. You looked at her as if to ask why she would text you when you were sitting right next to her. She only nudged you in response to coax you to look at the text. When you finally read it, you shot her another look, this time it exemplified your annoyance.

She sent another text.

Wheein: ???

You tried your best to make this exchange as inconspicuous as possible. You began typing aggressively to release some frustration.

y/n: u suck :p

Wheein laughed and responded.

Wheein: that doensn’t answer my question ;)

y/n: ya we’re planning on a destination wedding

Wheein: lol have you guys talked one on one since that day??

y/n: no and I’m on edge bc I have no idea what he’s been feeling these past few days

Wheein: damn ___ its been a week and y’all haven’t talked yet

y/n: i know :/

Wheein: well just talk to him tonight before everyone else comes

Wheein and Jackson had planned to have a kickback before the new semester came into session. She convinced you to host it on the condition she would provide the snacks and drinks. Jackson and his girlfriend, Seokjin, Sana, Yeji, all friends of you met in college, Dahyun, the girl Wheein had been dating for a few weeks, and Jimin were all going to your place later that night.

y/n: lol… you think talking about how I’m secretly in love with him right before getting drunk with our friends is a good idea???

Wheein looked up from her phone and responded with an aloof shrug. You let out a suppressed snicker and looked back down at your phone.

y/n: you’re so annoying

Wheein: at least im not a pussy!

You only replied with a middle finger emoji. You and Wheein were so invested in your virtual conversation, neither one of you had realized Jimin had finished practicing. He walked over to the two of you unsuspectingly and sat down on the other side of you. You fumbled to lock your phone before he could see your conversation while simultaneously trying not to seem like you were hiding something from him.

“You did a great job! I can’t wait to see you perform that.” You gave him an encouraging smile, slyly setting your phone on the floor.

“Thanks.” He said while panting lightly, “I kept messing up on a few steps though. I definitely need to polish up on that.” His hand ran through his hair. Your eyes watched this with the same concentration one would watch a football game coming to its last quarter. You couldn’t help how your gaze traveled down to the way his shirt clung against his chest.

Jimin pointed at your water bottle, “Do you mind?” This snapped you out of your trance.

You shook your head and stared at your sketchbook with such intensity, Jimin noticed how odd you were acting.

“What’s up?” His asked this casually but because you were hiding the fact that you were in literally love with him you felt like this was an interrogative question.

“I’m just,” You paused, beginning to touch up the sketches you had made of Jimin while he was dancing, “I’m not satisfied with how this turned out. Also, you danced well. I couldn’t even tell you messed up.” You did your best to sound distant and uncaring.

Jimin hid his smile by taking a sip of your water. “Thank you.”

Meanwhile, Wheein had witnessed all this occur right before her eyes. She was equally disgusted and embarrassed at how horridly tense that conversation had been. In a perfect world, she would have shoved both of your heads together to initiate a forced kiss because she knew damn well neither of you would ever be the first one to make that move, especially after everything that happened. All she could do was stand by and watch in agony.

“Whenever you two are finished, I’d like to shower before everyone comes over.” Wheein added a touch of retort in her words, hoping you would pick up on what she really wanted to say. “Jimin, you definitely need to shower too.”

You and Jimin laughed as you all stood up and began exiting the practice room. He threw his arm around Wheein in retaliation for her jab. “Oh, you don’t like my sweat?”

She cried out a loud ‘ew’ in disgust and forcefully shoved him away. You watched them bicker, and today was the first day since your ring turned green again that you hadn’t thought about your soulmate once.

Jackson and Nayeon arrived early to help set everything up. He also came to give a last-minute warning that he had invited a few of his friends from work over as well.

“I told him he shouldn’t, but when does he ever listen to me?” Nayeon scolded to which Jackson rolled his eyes. You laughed, appreciating her efforts in attempting to get Jackson not to do something he had his sights set on.

“It’s okay. You can just order something really expensive the next time he pays for dinner.” You said while grabbing an extra pack of red solo cups from your cabinet.

“I do that regardless.” She said with a loud laugh. Jackson nodded in admittance and kissed her cheek lovingly.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” You and Nayeon laughed at his sarcastic remark. She joined in helping you set up to compensate for the fact that Jackson didn’t apologize. You weren’t too upset, though; you knew him too well to believe him when he said he was only going to bring Nayeon tonight.

As the night went on and your apartment slowly filled with around thirteen people, some strangers and some friends, you were on the edge of being drunk to being really drunk. Everyone else was either at you level or a bit ahead of you. Wheein had already hopped on your couch to perform a ballad dedicated to how much she loved her friends.

“This one’s for YOU!” Her voiced boomed louder than the speaker and if you weren’t so intoxicated, you’d be worried about the neighbors filing a noise complaint. Wheein pointed at you then began pointing at everyone else in the room watching in amusement, “This ones for ALL of you! Even Jackson’s friends I don’t even know!”

This elicited a laugh from all of Jackson’s coworkers. One called out, “Do you remember my name?”

“Definitely not but I LOVE you!” She laughed turning red in the face then continuing with her heartfelt serenade to everyone in the apartment. “Dahyun, you’re the cutest girl in the whole wide world. It is very important that you know that! Hey! Everyone! I’m dating the cutest girl in the world!” Dahyun burst out bashfully in giggles, lifting her hands to shield her face.

Your eyes met with Jimin’s as you exchanged looks. He swayed his body from side to side with a bright smile as Wheein sang loudly off-key, and you lifted your shoulders and shook your head in astonishment at how hilarious and sappy Wheein was when she was drunk.

After Wheein’s display of affection, she plopped down on the couch and slouched while reaching for her drink to take a few sips. Things simmered down as the group began to drunkenly chat about something you didn’t pay any attention to. You walked over to Wheein, trying your best not to lose your balance, and sat down next to her.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” You said through fits of giggling and she groaned at your unrelenting responsibility even when you were drunk. You snatched the cup out of her hand and chugged the last of the drink, “But I definitely haven’t.”

“Heyyyyyyy!” She slurred, “That was mine!”

“I’m doing you a favor.” You patted her head. “Also, I approve of Dahyun. But she’s not the cutest girl in the world, that title is already taken by you.” You nudged her lovingly and her head tossed around as she laughed.

“Shh, I love you. You’re the best friend ever.” Her words had slurred even more.

Wheein stood up suddenly and marched sloppily over to your bedroom door, “Pssst, I’m going to pass out now and wake up with a hangover tomorrow, so I bid you all a goodnight!” Dahyun led her to the bedroom and kissed her goodnight. She saluted then disappeared into your room.

“Looks like I’ll have to take care of that tomorrow.” Yeji and Sana laughed at this comment, knowing how whiny Wheein would get even if she had the slightest headache.

You, Namjoon, and Nayeon were looking at pictures of her and Jackson’s trip to the mountains last weekend. Although sober you would have been genuinely excited to hear about it, you found yourself struggling to focus your eyes on the pictures, only offering witless answers. Luckily, Namjoon was much better at holding his liquor and Nayeon was an even bigger extrovert when she was drunk which explained why she didn’t even notice you were barely paying attention.

“So, Jimin, how did your date with that girl go?” You heard your friend Seokjin ask.

This sobered you instantly and you found it eerie how your attention focused on what Jimin was going to say. He looked down at his cup trying to find the words to properly describe it.

“It was okay. She was cute and laughed at all my jokes which boosted my ego.” He smiled softly, but it was merely a condolence to the fact that he couldn’t have admitted he didn’t have as much interest in her as he hoped.

“Damn, you’re not that funny so she must have really liked you.” He jabbed with suggestive implications. Jimin laughed at this and nodded in agreement but his smile slowly faded when he scanned the room only to find that you’d been listening to the conversation.

Your intoxication wore away your ability to hide exactly what you were feeling, as a disgruntled expression lingered on your face. The second he looked at you, your head snapped away from his in humiliation as if he hadn’t already seen you were eavesdropping. 

The night came to an end which was a relief to you. You didn’t know how much longer you could put up a happy, carefree attitude. Whenever your mind almost wandered away from Jimin’s date, it swarmed back into your thoughts and focus and provoked irritation with no restraint.

One by one, your friends left. Jackson cleaned up the last few empty cups, tossed them in the trash, and wiped down your table and counter before he left, hoping that would make up for how he had encumbered your plans. Jimin was laying on the couch so you didn’t bother kicking him out. You guessed he was going to spend the night since he was too drunk to drive anyway.

Your legs moved in a staggered manner and you floundered around the kitchen trying to find your cups. You leaned on the counters for support groaning softly to yourself. Thinking about Jimin on a date, flirting the way he’d flirt with you, or laughing for someone else that wasn’t you was enraging. You couldn’t tell whether it was the alcohol or the fuming envy that made you feel dizzy. It was realistically both those things.

You heard light footsteps approaching you, impeding on your pathetic sulking. You spun around quickly to see who it was which, in hindsight, was the worst possible thing you could do. Before you got the chance to give a face to the presence, your eyes began to see patches of black and your hand caressed your head to keep yourself from passing out on the floor.

“Woah.” You gasped trying to recollect your composure both mentally and physically. A few seconds later you felt two familiar arms wrap around your waist in assistance. The way those limbs delicately held you indicated exactly who it was.

“Hey, hey.” His voice was gentle as he was using his lower register, “You okay?” He was so close to you that you could feel his breath that smelled of liquor against your skin. Your hands wandered to rest against his chest, and you looked up at him. His cheeks tinted a soft pink color. Jimin grinned lightly when you made eye contact with him.

“I’m okay.” You mumbled under your breath, not wanting to speak too loudly because you felt your undigested food threaten to come back up your throat. You face inched dangerously close to his, and he didn’t stop you because of his drunken state. Your chest heaved erratically due to your nausea.

“I’m fine.” You sneered pushing him away with the little might that you had left.

“___, you’re still drunk.” He stumbled back and sounded disappointed which made you feel even angrier.

“Well you are too.” You accused feeling a bit demeaned by his tone. He didn’t say anything to this as his arms lazily returned to his side. “You went on a date? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know?” You were annoyed at his resistance towards you. “I’m your friend. Friends tell each other things like that. What? Did you think I would be mad at you?” You stepped forward feeling bold and confrontational, as a result of your drunkenness. He crossed his arms, refusing to yield to you.

“I never said that.” He looked down at the floor, fueling your agitation even more. You wanted him to look at you. “You don’t seem so happy about it, that’s for sure.”

You let out a groan that dragged out for a bit, “What are you talking about, I’m absolutely ecstatic for you.” You jabbed pettily as you walked past him to continue your search for a water glass. He rolled his eyes at your abnormally aggressive and childish attitude.

“You have no right to be mad.” Jimin grumbled while watching you struggle to find a glass. He reached for the correct cabinet and held out a cup to you. You begrudgingly took the cup from his hand and stumbled over to the sink, briefly losing your balance before catching yourself against the counter. He reflexively reached his arm out to catch you in case you fell.

“You don’t think I know that?” You spat with your voice raised slightly, “You don’t think that I know you’re allowed to go on dates with other girls? You don’t think I want to be happy for you?” You started to get worked up and worried you would let something slip out that you would regret.

“Well it doesn’t seem like you’re trying at all.” Jimin walked to the other end of the kitchen and leaned back against the counter.

“What’s it to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Jimin responded sarcastically, “I kind of have a problem with you being mad at me after you were the one who turned me down.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered over your words.

“I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He repeated what you said to confirm your audacious comment. “Oh, so, I imagined when you said you couldn’t be with me because of your soulmate ring?”

“Jimin, don’t.” You warned.

“No, I clearly remember that you said you weren’t interested. And as much as that hurt and I wanted to tell you that I wanted you to choose me I would never do that. At least I could be kind enough to not take that out on you. And now you’re mad at me for trying to get over you? I should have known not to fall for you. Fuck, I tried to tell myself I made up the connection we had to make me feel better about this. To make this,” He gestured to you and him, “whatever this was not real. I thought if I could convince myself our connection wasn’t real then maybe I could cope with the fact that I’d never get to be with you.”

You began to cry but your buzz was strong enough that all caution was thrown to the wind. You cried unconstrained.

“I’m mad because I know I have no reason to be mad but here I am!” You gestured vivaciously as your passion began to boil over. “I’m mad because-” You took a second to catch your breath, “I don’t know. I’m just mad and I’m sorry. Of course, it’s not your fault but I can’t help the way I feel.”

“Right.” He said coldly, unimpressed with this answer.

“What do you know? You don’t know anything! You don’t know me or what I’m thinking.” This attack was meant to hurt him as much as it hurt you to say. You stomped over to him, spilling a bit of water on your hand and the floor.

Jimin stood up and stepped forward to counter you, causing you to stumble back a bit. His face was so close to yours once more and he could now clearly see your dampened eyes and the way they looked at him with frustration. You regained grounding and tried not to seem intimidated. He could be so gentle and light when he danced, but right now he looked so indestructible that not even a tank could move him

“I don’t know you?” Your skin tingled from the bitterness that stained his voice. He scoffed, running his hand through his hair. Your eyes vigilantly watched him and your heart pumped at an unhuman rate. You prayed he couldn’t tell he had this power over you.

His eyes pierced back at you with such intensity that you wanted to cry harder. You wanted to tell him every bit of how you felt and how much you loved him. You wanted him to know that he’d changed you in the most unpredictable and drastic ways and it unhinged every bone in your body. You were scared because you once believed he would never satisfy you since he wasn’t your soulmate, but now you were scared that even a lifetime of efforts could never repay what he had given you. That all this time, you weren’t enough for him.

Jimin felt his urges get the best of him. Staring into your eyes absolved any resentment he held for you. He felt injected with life whenever he looked at you, even when you were staring daggers at him like you had been now. He didn’t know how long he could resist from kissing you, being that he was drunk and reckless.

You both stood there, silently. Jimin was waiting for you to shoot a drunken, unintelligible comment back and you were waiting for Jimin to rebuke you for lashing out at him. Neither of those things happened. You just remained speechless, as did he.

Eventually, you took a few steps away, breaking the longing stare that had transpired between you and Jimin for what felt like an hour.

“I’m going to bed.” That was the last thing you said before slumping out of the kitchen and entering into your bedroom. You were right in assuming Jimin would stay over since he was too drunk and emotional to drive himself home.

Jimin collapsed onto the couch and finally let himself cry. He hated the fact that things didn’t go back to how they were, and that they most likely never would. You were like water to him. He could experience you and feel you but whenever he tried to hold you in his hands no matter how tightly, you would slip through his fingers. He just wished he could have shared another one of those nothing-everything moments with you he’d foolishly taken for granted. When he closed his eyes, memories of you and him played in his mind until he dozed off to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to a pressure headache that resided in the back of your head. This however was nothing compared to the feeling you got when you checked your phone and saw Jimin had sent you a text.

Jimin: I think I need some space

Jimin: I’m sorry

Before the tears had the chance to well, you stood up and trudged out to the living room to only find that Jimin had already left and Wheein was sitting on the couch flipping through the stations on the television.

“Look at this.” You tossed your phone on the cushion next to Wheein and walked over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Wheein picked up your phone and read the texts, sighing with disappointment. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ___.”

“We kind of had a fight last night.” You muttered, the memories of everything that had happened flooding back into your head. You said so many things you wish you hadn’t and regretted how rude you had allowed yourself to act.

“Yeah, I know. I heard.” Her lips were pressed together as she walked over to you.

“I really know how to fuck things up, don’t I?” You scoffed in mockery of your misbehavior.

Two weeks passed since you and Jimin had fought.

That petty argument stained your mind. That moment was everything. And for once, you wanted it to mean nothing.

Every time your phone alerted you, you reached for it eagerly and immediately in the slim chance that it was Jimin who was texting you. It never was, though, and you only had yourself to blame.

It had been two weeks of self-reprimand and regret.

Fourteen days of missing him and pitifully scrolling through photos and videos that you took of him.

Three hundred and thirty-six hours since saw his smile or scolded him for skipping practice to hang out with you or received a casual compliment from him that never failed to boost your mood when you were upset.

Or heard his laugh.

Coincidentally, tonight was his dance recital he’d been practicing for. You’d been waffling between going and not going for the entirety of those two weeks. Wheein would always reassure you that you should go and that he would appreciate you cared enough to support him.

“You know I can’t make it, its my mom’s birthday weekend. If not for you, go for me.” She pleaded.

It took a few more minutes of Wheein’s persuasion for you to finally decide on going. And you told yourself it was exclusively for Wheein. You told yourself that, but she knew, and you knew you just missed his so much.

You arrived early so you could snag a decent seat. To your dismay, it was already crowded which made you remember Jimin always downplayed his dancing events due to his humbleness. You found a seat slightly askew to the center of the stage, but close enough to get an adequate view. The lights dimmed and you set down your purse and the bouquet of red roses on the floor in front of your legs.

There were a few performers that preceded Jimin, all were talented and passionate but nothing like the way Jimin danced. Maybe it was because you were in love with him, but there was something exceptionally unmatched about his dancing abilities.

He finally walked out on stage and his eyes met with yours almost immediately. Jimin paused and contained his excitement to the best of his abilities. You weren’t fooled though; you could see it in his eyes that he was relieved you attended and you nodded at him to express physically that you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Jimin looked down as the music started playing, then began his performance. The way his arms flowed so precisely with the rhythm and the elegance he exuded as he leaped across the stage had the audience collectively in awe of his raw talent. His legs moved so delicately that anyone could tell he was the type of dancer that practiced until he couldn’t stand up anymore.

Your breathing was rather heavily but you ignored everything else when Jimin would dance. The intense beating of your heart, the audience, the walls and even the stage had faded away; he was the only thing detectable in your eyes in this moment.

Your presence granted him the motivation to exert every ounce of effort into every single movement. You pitied the unlucky person who had to follow him. Their dance would surely be put to shame by this beautiful, raw, flawless, emotional masterpiece.

When the dance ended, your body crashed back to reality and you realized every muscle in your body had been contracted. You loosened yourself by leaning back into your chair.

He received a standing ovation which didn’t come to a surprise. You stood up, still. Jimin’s eyes were glued to you. You gave him a teary smile and he held his hand to his heart and bowed. The audience had no idea that was for you and only you.

Jimin prayed that you saw it. The longing, the pure dedication, the heartbreak, and the change. You changed him. He wanted you to know that he always thought he’d fall in love countless times, but from the moment he met you that desire had faded. Now, he knew he’d only ever want to love you. 

The remainder of the recital had been a blur. Nothing could prevail in capturing your attention from Jimin. His movements simply replayed in your head until the showcase ended. You stood up and applauded, growing restless to run backstage to congratulate him.

Before you got the chance to greet him, an entire crowd of people swarmed any path that lead to where the dancers were. You grunted and settled on texting him.

y/n: meet me outside on the bridge across the street

Jimin: I’ll be there in about 10 minutes

You thought your heart couldn’t have raced any faster than it did while you were watching Jimin dance, but your body had proved you wrong. You paced up and down the bridge all the while mumbling what you planned on saying to Jimin. You bit your fingernails and leaned against the wooden railing that scaled along the bridge.

“Hey.” Jimin walked up next to you, looking out to the streaming water below the bridge. It was quiet, warm, and serene. The lantern that stood on the end of the bridge radiating a warm tone that accentuated Jimin’s honey skin.

“You did amazing. Just,” You paused, there were no words to do his performance justice, “if I went blind tomorrow, I’d be satisfied.”

Jimin chuckled at your comment, knowing you meant well.

He laughed for you. That beautiful sound echoed in your heart loudly. You missed it so much.

“These are for you.” You handed him the flowers, turning your body towards him. He grinned and cradled them in his arm.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“I heard from Seokjin that you’re planning on making things official with the girl. What’s her name?” You said abruptly. Jimin visibly tensed when you said this.

“Nancy.” He replied.

“Nancy.” You repeated.

There was a long silence, and Jimin opened his mouth about to say something but you beat him to it.

“Don’t be her boyfriend.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because,” You looked back out into the water before continuing, “I know you could never fully dedicate yourself to her like you would to me.” A scoff escaped you when you said it out loud, “I don’t care if that sounds arrogant because I know it’s true. I know because that’s how I’d feel about everyone else too.” You paused, “Even my soulmate.”

“___, do you- that- where is this coming from?” His eyes planted firmly on yours.

“I love you, Jimin.” You blurted it out. The hundred of ways you imagined yourself confessing this to him ultimately resulted in you ineloquently spouting it out. There was no denying your vigor could never diminish when it came to love, it simply was redirected.

“You love me.” He repeated in a stunned state. He just tenderly stared at you, hope and bewilderment bursting through him; he was trying to take it all in.

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the minute I met you and every minute of every day that I’ve known you. And I could never stop myself from loving you, and I was stupid to think that was possible. I’d always been so determined to find my soulmate. I pictured exactly what to say and how we would fall in love, but with you,” You laughed lightly, holding a hand to your heart. Hearing you say these things to him was everything he’d ever wished for, for the months you’d known each other. Needless to say he was fighting back tears.

“I can’t imagine being with anyone else but you. You’ve ruined love for me because I know nothing will ever be as good as the way I love you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” These words struck you, hard. You didn’t know how to convince him, but dammit, you’d never give up trying.

“I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t let go of the way you laugh, you know I always go out of my way to make you laugh? because hearing it makes me so damn happy and I have no idea why. Or how when we look at each other and I can tell exactly what you’re thinking, and you can tell exactly what I’m thinking. Or how you always let me order my food first and pour water into my cup before you pour water into yours. Or the way you tease me for opening the banana on the ‘wrong side’. Or how your dancing is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And every moment you’re not dancing or laughing or teasing me I wish you were by my side doing all of those things.”

“I could never be him. I could never be that for you, you know this right?” He responded in short answers, unable to find the right words that would be a good enough just like when he was seven years old. But, Jimin was older now and held a firm belief nothing could ever express how strongly he feels.

“Good. I don’t want you to be him or anyone else other than you.”

“But what about-”

“No. There’s nothing else to consider. The point is I could never forgive myself if I gave you up for some theoretical opportunity of a soulmate. I found someone even better. I found you. I don’t care what the stars say, I don’t care that your ring is green and mine is green and that we’re technically not soulmates. I don’t care if I never meet my soulmate. What we have is real. Our connection was built by us. You’re real. And I love you so much that’s all I can say.” You stared intently at him becoming exhausted, yet alleviated from finally being able to tell him all this. “This ring had meant everything for me for all my life. When it was green it meant I had a soulmate, when it was black it meant I had no reason to believe in love. But with you, this ring means absolutely nothing. It’s green again and it has never felt so meaningless to me. Does that even make sense?”

“I love you.” He said after about five minutes of silence. He didn’t give you a second to respond because the next think you knew, he stepped towards you and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It’s true what they say about seeing fireworks when you kiss someone you love. These fireworks covered every inch of the sky and flared brightly, blindingly so, and flew so high in the air that you swore they reached outer space.

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. His cheeks softly brushed against yours and felt so warm. The softness of his lips could make you cry. Finally being able to kiss him and hold him and admit your love to him did make you cry. His hands caressed your face making you flush red, and his thumb glided against your cheeks to wipe away the hot tears he felt trickling from your eyes.

He pulled back but couldn’t pull too far because he felt some gravitational force drawing him to be near you. Your noses bumped against each other, “The minute you met me, huh?” You laughed, placing another chaste kiss on the side of his smile.

“I warned you I was a hopeless romantic.” You sniffed still recovering from that tearful, enchanting kiss.

He laced his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers, and strode slowly along the park path. You and he talked like you’d always had but now you loved him, and he knew that.

“Favorite cartoon as a kid?”

“Easy, Blue’s Clues.” Jimin said.

“Really? You think Blue’s Clues was the best when Sesame Street exists?”

“Big bird scared me! You just know he’s killed someone. you can see it in his cold, dead eyes.” Jimin argued.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least none of the characters had conversations with their furniture. Steve was one hundred percent insane.” You said, laughing.

“Steve is a legend, don’t say such things about him.” Jimin joined in your laughter, referring to the main character of Blue’s Clues. 

“Go to pick up line?” He asked.

You thought for a moment, “Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

“Wow, that was absolutely terrible I think we have to break up.” Jimin chuckled.

“Oh yeah, like you could do better.” You challenged.

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?” He said with eyes so dreamy you almost ignored the fact that this pick up like was just as horrendous as yours.

“How was that better than mine?”

“Trust me, it was.”

“I will. I will be your nothing.” He looked to you and kissed your cheek. You closed your eyes at the sensation of his touch.

“And I’ll be yours?” Jimin whispered against your cheek as if he were asking permission to be the one you choose. You nodded. Of course, he was.

You and him and this moment were nothing. Nothing to the passing strangers, nothing to the waiter that took your order on your first date, nothing to the generations to come, nothing to the universe and trees and grass and stars that surrounded you. Nothing at all.

And yet, to you and Jimin, it was everything. This nothing and everything moment marked the beginning of a lifetime of nothing and everything moments.

Somewhere along these nothing and everything moments, green became just another color to you and your ring was just another piece of jewelry. And nothing more.

Exactly 10 months after that night, you and Jimin planned to return to that bridge. You stood against the railing and looked over to Jimin.

“Uh, move over like two inches to the left.” You giggled, finding that your need for accuracy rubbed off on him.

“Are you sure that’s where I was standing? I could swear it was right here!” You argued, simply to get a rise out of him; you thought it was adorable.

“No, you were definitely standing two inches to the left.” He held his phone and aimed it at you. “Move it!” He ordered with a smile on his face.

“Yes sir!” You stepped to the side then looked at him for approval. He held his thumb up and took a few pictures while you posed.

Afterwards, he walked up to you and placed a kiss on your cheek before showing you the photos. Most of them were blurry and you teased him for his shoddy camera skills. “Wheein’s gonna hate these pictures.” You commented. He laughed and threw his arm across your shoulder as the two of you stared out into the water flowing peacefully downstream. Being here with him brought the memory of that night as if it had happened just yesterday.

“A friend once said to me: ‘it’s crazy that out of all the years and decades and countries we could have been born, we were born in this one, together’.” Jimin’s eyes were fixated on the water in reminiscence of the first time he’d met you, “I thought of what my friend said often when we were together. And it’s as if we were meant to find each other. The universe seems coincidental when it comes to picking soulmates, doesn’t it? At least we got to choose. And I think it purposefully granted us that choice knowing exactly what it would bring us. As if we were meant to bring every bit of love, warmth, and even heartbreak into each other’s lives. It’s kind of like a lottery when you think about it. To me, it feels like fate plucked us out like numbers on a ticket and placed us together.” Jimin looked over to you now, and when you stared into his eyes every one of your questions about love had been answered.

“Numbers are infinite.” You said softly.

“Yeah, and yet, we were picked. I understand now I won the lottery.” He replied and wished time would stop so he could cherish this nothing moment forever.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind about doing this.” You said with sentiment. “Ready?”

“Ready.” He responded, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The two of you slipped the soulmate rings off your fingers and you gazed at it one last time.

“Count of three?”

Jimin nodded.

You started the countdown, “One.”

Jimin continued it, “Two.”

Three came in unison and you both threw your rings into the water which was now rushing rapidly.

When you felt the ring slip from your hand and watched as it dropped into the water, you wept. You wept out of pure relief and liberation; an enormous pressure had lifted from your chest and you were finally able to breathe. That ring could never cause you any more pain, nor did that ring replenish your hope you would find love. You didn’t need it anymore.

Because now, you had an endless supply of nothing moments.

and everything moments

and Jimin.

[bluesockets]

HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

[90spumkin]

Unexpected Switch (Part Three)

Summary: Y/n struggles with the memories of the night at the club.

A/N: Well this is my longest part yet! I know there is a lot of dialogue especially in the first scene, but it is necessary. Also you will notice in this part that I have a strong dislike for JJ, we do not hate in this house, but I will do right by her character in the future just bare with me. I love AJ Cook so don’t get that confused. Also I mention something about the reader’s sexuality in this part just making it clear I support the LGBTQ community. I hope you enjoy! I am always open to suggestions or comments.

Part Two: https://90spumkin.tumblr.com/post/631081814828695552/unexpected-switch

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, panic attacks, and talk of mental health (if anyone is struggling with these things and need someone to talk to my inbox is always open. I to struggle with these things and hold no judgment).    

Word Count: 2187

“What the hell! A sister? A twin at that.” I had started pacing the length of the table rambling to the curly haired doctor. I could feel his eyes following me, taking in every move I made. I stopped abruptly and looked at Dr. Reid, “I was adopted, but like there’s no way my parents would have known about there being another baby. If they had known they would have told me. Right?”

He looked so taken aback by my sudden focus on him that it took him a moment to register that I had spoken directly to him. He opened and closed his mouth several times like he was trying to string the right words together to answer my question sensibly.

I started pacing again realizing he did not have a good answer for me. “Also, why the hell am I still in this interrogation room? We’ve figured out I’m not the killer.” I run my hands through my hair tugging slightly out of frustration

“Could you sit down you’re making me anxious?”

My body broke out in goosebumps at the sound of the not so silent doctor’s voice. I stopped and turned, my body completely facing him, “What?”

“Could you sit – oh that was a rhetorical question.”, His eyes never left mine as I sat down due to his request.

“So, he does speak. I was starting to think you were mute.”, I tell him with a small smirk. He gives me a kind of intense look while leaning his elbows onto the table separating us.

“It would be very hard for me to do my job now wouldn’t it, y/n?” He said it with a small smile playing over his lips, and the way he said my name had me thinking things very unrelated to the conversation we were currently having.

“No, I guess you couldn’t.” I responded. I sat back in my chair and folded my arms over my chest and wondered if that was all the doctor was going to say to me during our time here.

He muttered something under his breathe while looking down at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the world, “Even though I have plenty of reasons to be selectively mute.”

I don’t think I was meant to hear him by the way his eyes snapped to mine when I said, “I feel like there’s story or two behind that statement.”

He just shakes his head not convincing me otherwise when the door opened and in stepped none other than- “Luke!” I said his name a little to enthusiastically, I was just so happy to see a familiar face. Not that Dr. Reid’s face had not had my thoughts distracted enough.

Luke just kind of chuckled when he greeted me back, “Hi y/n. I now realize how good of a disguise a lot of dirt can be.”

Pretty boy side eyed Luke while saying, “I still don’t understand how you didn’t recognize her; it couldn’t have been that good of a disguise.”    His voice held. annoyance and a hint of some other emotion I couldn’t place

“Not everyone has an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187, Reid.” Luke responded. I just stared at Luke and then at the Doctor who had returned his gaze back to the table obviously not enjoying the attention being put on him. Well he just got 10 times hotter if that is even possible.

“Okay y/n we have kept you in here while we ran a profile on you before fully deciding if you were an accomplice or a victim in all of this.” Luke said all this without missing a beat. He quickly continued when he looked up from the files he had brought in and saw the displeased look on my face. “We couldn’t be sure until we ran every part of the profile with you in it. We now know that you are very much a victim, a victim to more than you realize.”

I had so many questions but before I could form the words Luke held up and finger hushing me. “We will explain everything in time, but first Dr. Reid is going to conduct a cognitive interview allowing you to explain more of what happened at the club. Then once Agent Prentiss has the approval, we will be taking this case back to Quantico.”

_______

After many heated phone calls between Agent Prentiss and the poor soul on the other end of the line; we were on the BAU’s private jet headed back to Quantico. I made a mental note not to get on the boss lady’s bad side.

I sat in the back of the plan alone staring out the window. I couldn’t help but to think about the memories that were unlocked during the cognitive interview that took place back in Massachusetts.

           “Y/n close your eyes and think back to when you were at the bar and received the text message from your friends.” I closed my eyes and allowed Dr. Reid’s voice to transport me back to the previous night.

               I could smell the alcohol and sweat from the people that surrounded me. I saw the text from my friend as clear as day. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a scream was let out across the club. I turned my head toward the sound and saw a woman stumbling back from the stairs that led up to the bathrooms. That was when all hell broke loose, and everyone was stumbling over each other trying to get to the exits at the front of the building. I started pushing my way through the stampede of people trying to reach where the scream resonated from. I knew someone had called 911 because I could hear the sirens in the distance. When I finally reached my destination. I could only stand in shock at the scene in front of me.

My focus was suddenly brough back to the plan by the sudden burning in my chest. I clutched at the material of shirt that covered my chest. I started gasping for breath. I felt the presence of someone to my left, but I couldn’t focus on them. This it! The abys finally has me.

“Y/n focus on my voice. Tell me what you smell.”

“Leather…and…vanilla?” I barely whispered the words.

“Okay good. What do you hear?”

I took a moment my breathing starting to stabilize, “The rumbling of the plane’s engine.”

I opened my eyes that I hadn’t even realized I had closed, and I was met with the beautiful doctor’s face consorted with worry. I then noticed all the other agents had gathered around me, but at a safe distance not overwhelming me.

“I’m okay” I tell them giving a small reassuring smile. Most of the team nodded and went back to their seats after lingering just a tad longer watching me to make sure I was truly okay. The fact that Agent Jareau was the first one to walk away did not go unnoticed. Hateful bitch.

Once the others were convinced, I wasn’t going to pass out and had returned to their seats; Dr. Reid stood from his position crouched down next to me and slid into the seat across from me. He fixated that pierce stare of his on me, no doubt taking in all my behavior to really make sure I was okay.

I broke the silence by thanking him and his only response was a quick nod. A few minutes passed before the silence was broken again.

“How long have you been having these panic attacks?” His face was set in a way that let me know he genuinely wanted to know.

I leaned my head back against the seat smelling the leather I had mentioned earlier. “They started the night at the club. The first one was brought on by a dream, well more like a nightmare.”

He sat quietly listening to me as I explained the darkness that seemed to take over my mind since that night. “Any time I think about that night it’s kind of like my brain wants to shut down, and I am thrown into this dark abys and I’m drowning just like in my dream. I’m sorry you probably weren’t that curious.”

He quickly responded reassuring me, “No, it’s okay I was curious.” He crossed his arms over his chest before he continued, “Most panic attacks are brought on by anxiety, and that would make sense in your situation. Your dream is more than likely your brain trying to cope with the fear of the accident and all the immense stress you have been experiencing the past day or so. In many cases doctors just write it off as genetics, but studies have shown that that is not the most common reasons. In fact, anxiety and panic attacks are caused more by PTSS than it is anything.”

He stopped abruptly and I couldn’t help but wonder why. I guess my faced asked before I could form the words because he proceeds. “I’m sorry I tend to ramble about facts that no one actually cares about.”

I couldn’t help but be in shock at the fact that he was so eager to share his knowledge and two how could people hate to listen to this man talk when he sounds so happy exposing the wisdom he has locked inside that brilliant brain of his.

“Hey, I for one enjoy learning new things especially if that something is happening to me and I don’t quite understand why. So, do not ever apologize for spilling facts to me while we are associated with one another during this case, or even after if our paths ever cross again.”

The small smile he had on his face was all I needed to know that he appreciated everything I said. We sat in comfortable silence the rest of the plane ride, except for the small snores coming from the pile of muscles laid across one of the seats known as SSA Matt Simmons.

__________

 After the jet landed Agent Prentiss lead me to her office and dismissed the team to go home for the night to come back in the morning refreshed.

Once we reached Agent Prentiss’s office, she led to the small leather couched placed against the back wall. She informed me that she would be right back before walking right back out the door we just entered. She returned not even 5 minutes later with two bags of potato chips and two bottles of water

“I am absolutely starving, and I know you are, I could hear your stomach growling from the other side of the plane.” She handed me the food and water and I gave her a small thank you as she pulled a chair up to sit across from me.

“Okay y/n I know it’s late so I’m not going to conduct another cognitive interview you need rest and a real meal before that. I do have one question for you though. Are you okay?”

I just stared at the dark-haired woman in front of me and barely croaked out a response, “What?”

“We may be federal agents y/n, but we aren’t heartless. You’ve been through so much in the past couple of days and I know your mental state can’t be the best right now taken you’ve had at least two panic attacks in 24 hours.” The look I gave her must have been enough for her to know what I was thinking. “I may have overheard your conversation with Reid earlier.”

I looked down at my lap and started fiddling with a piece of string connected to the seam of the shirt I had gotten from the homeless shelter. I must look as bad as I feel.

I of course don’t tell her that instead I say, “I’m okay Agent Prentiss, honestly.” I don’t look up at her until she says, “Please call me Emily.”

I smiled at her kindness and nodded. I swear if I weren’t straight, I could fall for this woman right here right now.

The door to Emily’s office swings open making both of us jump as the most colorful woman on earth rushes in.

“Shit! Penelope!” Emily holds a hand over her chest and scolds the rainbow woman. I on the other hand am trying to calm my heartbeat that is beating so loudly I’m sure the other two woman can hear it.

Penelope’s expression is sincere yet frantic as she says, “I am so sorry Em, but I was finally able to dig up everything on y/n family. Oh, hi you’re y/n, oh my gosh hi. I am so sorry I didn’t realize. Oh, you poor thing.” She says all this with both hands cupped over her heart as if everything that has happen caused her heart to actually hurt.

I looked between the bubbly woman who almost made me pee myself and Emily, trying to process what had just happened.

Emily looked at me and then at Penelope and said, “Tell us everything.”.

*

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@criminalmindzjunkie​ @hendersonsshadow​ @brooklynxnicole​ @misschil3​