#And being beautiful in our society gives all kinds of privilege

[teaboot]

Too angry to get into it rn but it's important.

Guy on the street was catcalling a lady. I told him, "come on man, it's 2023, don't do that, have some fuckin' class."

He told me, "It's a compliment. I compliment everyone. I was telling her she's beautiful. You aren't being very beautiful right now, though."

We argued. I realized I wasn't gonna get through to him and it was a drop in the bucket anyway. Started walking away.

He yelled after me, "by the way, you're beautiful!" All grinning and smug, like he'd won something. Like I'm just some poor jealous hag bitter from lack of compliments, and not a human being.

Incredible that he didn't seem to get it, even as he was proving the point.

If I'm ugly when I'm unpleasant, and I'm beautiful when it gives you power over me. It's not a compliment, it's dominance.

♡ Terfs and radfems fuck off, by the way ♡

[neyafromfrance95]

are we EVER going to talk about the ageism against women properly?

bc it has been growing rampant in gen z and the arguments against it aren't exactly addressing the issue through examining the double standards people have for women and men.

yes, ageing is a privilege but i don't think that this argument is doing anything to dismantle the patriarchal mentality that is ingrained in our culture.

in many ways, people's counterpoint to "women expire after the xyz age" is basically "well, ageing is a privilege and natural so you should be ok with being an expired undesirable grandma whose only purpose is taking care of children bc at least you're not dead". we are never going to actually dismantle the ageism against women if this is our only argument.

we have to address the fact that women aren't allowed the same standards that men are.

men are allowed to have two types of desirability - a boy and a man. we don't say that men in their 50s look good *for* their age, we say that they grew well into their age, we simply say that they are attractive 50 years olds.

but women can only be and feel beautiful and desirable if they are young. if a woman in her 50s is objectively fine, we say that she looks good *for* her age, insinuating that there is no way she could ever *just* look good at 50, no "for"s, since she isn't 19-25 anymore and that's the only age range when a woman is truly attractive and desirable.

isn't this actually abhorrent? the fact that people can live up to about 100 years but women are taught to believe that only in 6 of these years they are in their prime? that patriarchy tells women that after their early 20s they are expired and the only valid way for them to be desirable and beautiful is to try to replicate the qualities of the 20 years old version of themselves that according to the same patriarchy, older women can no longer posses?

and the argument that women should not wish to be desirable at all in the name of feminism is very faulty, imo. it often comes from young and pretty women who don't really understand what being deemed "undesirable" in society means. the assumption that women being ok with the patriarchy telling them that they should feel expired after 25, should feel like they looked better in their 20s even if they take a better care of themselves now, should just do the "grandma" stuff while their male counterparts still get to experience romance and the life to its fullest, is not going to be some kind of a feminism win.

the "ageing is a privilege" has started to feel like an argument for women to once again settle for the bare minimum (at least you aren't dead) and conform to the unfair limitations the patriarchy forces on women.

i think what needs to change is us giving these misogynistic double standards any sort of validation. they are not rooted in some kind of universal truth about the inherent difference between men and women, they are rooted in patriarchy. we need to stop acting like younger and older women are in competition and start acknowledging that both are desirable and beautiful in their own ways.

i know that this post won't get much traction, but i feel like we need to talk about this topic more bc the internalized ageism that gen z women have is going to mess them up and the counterpoints to their assumptions are sometimes weak and unhelpful.

edit: thanks for yall's input in the reblogs! i would love to hear more from people so please feel free to reblog and say all that's on your mind regarding this subject since we really need to start addressing this and keep the conversation going!

[taylortruther]

a little adjacent to heteronormative relationships and the public eye, what are your thoughts on how the media crafts certain narratives in balancing, say, clickability/interest with actual information being received (either by a publicist, paparazzi, or common sense)? and how those things feed into each other to tell certain stories?

obviously, there's the way taylor and travis are reported on, but i'm also thinking of someone like JLo and Ben, who's narrative abruptly shifted from "true love after 20 years" to "on the verge of divorce" and how JLo's perception as someone ( a woman, specifically) who's more fame-hungry/self-obsessed has fed into that. then you have your over-idealized young love (olivia rodrigo and her actor boyfriend! millie bobbie brown and her husband!!) (jesus christ lol) and the way the media is just so much kinder and in adoration in a way that we know isn't going to last

idk, was just thinking about how the love/hatred cycle of the woman in the relationship feeds these cycles, but wondered if you had any other thoughts about that switch from 'adored couple' to 'get the popcorn ready for DIVORCE' and how much is driven by what's actually going on and how much is driven by, well, everything else

love ur blog <3

idk! i wrote a lot! not sure if this really touches on what you wanted because tbh to me, the media drives much of it, but it's hard to say "the narratives" without really talking about "the society" that creates the narrative that the media exploits. it is a big question for one blog and i'd be interested in more thoughts because it is more fun for me when it's a dialogue and not just me opining.

i think celebrity can often cast a magnifying glass on what are otherwise normal, common human experiences. it's like when you read greek mythology, and the gods are so awful, but one of the reasons they're so awful is because they're afflicted with human flaws like pride and vanity, but with (often scary) powers. celebrities aren't all-powerful deities, but they have beauty, wealth, platform, public trust, privileges galore, at their disposal.

so there's interest in what they do because it gives us insight into other human stories. and one of the common narratives in our society (world?) is that of young love! young, sexy people being young and sexy together, who doesn't like that.

but, idk. people are judgmental. there's a lot to say about how human stories become content on the internet, but it's really more of a tale of how humans are judgy, and the internet makes it easier (and more satisfying, superficially) to do it. like, you see the same type of comments on taylor swift/travis videos as you do on jlo/ben articles as you do on the comment section of a 22-year-old influencer on instagram with 3,000 followers (or a blog on here tbh)... they can be kind, but they are often viciously cruel, about the same things: appearance, age, vapidity, superficiality, intelligence, damaging kids' psyches, whatever.

life and human experience is a narrative - we tell ourselves stories about our lives, but when we're watching someone else's, the narrative becomes clearer. jlo and ben can't just stay fun and sexy forever. the masses want a narrative: the buildup, the conflict, the climax, the comedown, the resolution. unfortunately, humans don't really get a whole story until they're dead and someone crafts a narrative about their life in retrospect. so we often get stuck in that cycle of conflict and comedown. (there's a lot to say about taylor's love for an underdog/phoenix rising from the ashes metaphor too tbh.) whether any of the conflict is real, or exaggerated, is kind of besides the point. it's not really about the celebrities as humans anymore.

and sexism/ageism is a factor too. like, society hates women. women are devalued and dehumanized as a matter of course. so, as a famous woman who literally commodifies part of herself in some way, that hatred will be loud and open.

we see that in how people talk about celebrity moms and their relationships/breakups. sophie/joe or angelina/brad are great examples of how the woman can't be trusted: she's too young, too wild, too irresponsible, lalala. meanwhile, no one truly thinks the man is essential in the parenting role (talk about a reflection of society!) so his lack of parenting, or his shitty parenting, doesn't quite damage his reputation the way lesser "crimes" affect a woman.

i also have some thoughts on how the internet has been ~gentrified~ (i use this term SO loosely/unseriously but it gets the point across) and how that changes what we talk about and how. but that's a separate topic.

eta: i will probably read this journal article when i have a good minute, because i think it articulates similar thoughts. it's about how celebrities fall from grace (like cosby), but i love the term "social myth":

Even if such determination can be questioned – stars and celebrities continue to provide cohering social myths to bind with – the issues of degradation, desecration and decelebrification are an integral part of the complex phenomenon of celebrity. Unsurprisingly the switch between steps related to consecration and degradation in celebrity life is a constant: the rise and fall narrative, a central component of star and fan identification streams, and media marketing. 

[destinyc1020]

Hi 👋🏽 lurker here. I love your page but honestly feel too grown to comment on tumblr most of the time 😂

just wanted to chime in to say the biracial/black women convo is important and I really appreciate your perspective. I’m around Zendaya’s age, (slightly) older and I’m also a (biracial) light skinned black woman. Same foundation shade as Zendaya actually 😂. I can tell you this discourse was not a thing growing up. We were black, considered black by society, etc. it wasn’t until the past 5 years that I’ve seen people feel the need to distinguish us as “biracials” and honestly it has been a little hurtful and neglects our experiences as biracial black people. Yes we have privilege, absolutely. Now that I live in a city, I feel that more readily. I was also raised around a lot of white people so I can adapt fluidly in white spaces, which has been immensely helpful in my career. But all grass isn’t always greener on the other side, if that makes sense.

For example, I grew up in a rural sundown town. Guess what? I was the only black person many of them had ever seen, and on top of that being biracial made me, and I quote, an “abomination”. Can’t tell you how many times I heard that growing up. And I imagine even in hollywood there are remnants of some of that (less harsh) sentiment there. Is Zendaya privileged and does she have access to more roles because she’s lighter? Yes. Is she still probably fighting off “stereotypical” castings, being met with executives who say “a black star won’t make us money in China/Korea/europe/whatever”, is she offered less than her white counterparts, probably also yes. I think it’s important that we can acknowledge that Zendaya (and light skinned black people) is more privileged but I get so salty when I see people try to strip her of her identity or overly criticize her because she’s “not black enough”. I feel like the discourse around biracial people in particular has been on fire in recent years. I can understand the frustration people feel with society around light skinned folks and I absolutely admit that some light skinned folks abuse their privilege or don’t give back, but the discourse is really stripping us of our identity as BLACK people. I’m a black woman, society sees me as such and I am PROUD to be a black woman. Having one white parent doesn’t erase that from my identity.

hopefully people don’t take this the wrong way, but thanks again for your take. Love your blog!

First off, thank you so much for your sweet and kind words about my blog Anon. 🥰 I appreciate it!

I also wanted to say thank you so much for providing your views and your input as a biracial black woman. As a monoracial black woman myself, I can't personally know first-hand how it feels or what biracial black women experience in this country. It's nice to hear the "other side of the coin" for a change.

You and I are probably around the same age, and you're right, growing up there wasn't such a huge demarcation line btwn who is "black" and who is "biracial". Back then, everyone was just considered "black" if you have "one drop" of black blood lol. 😂 But over the past few years or so, there's really been a strong desire for some to classify. I get it... I think biracial black women (especially) do get a bit more favorable treatment in society and people tend to treat them differently, and they're deemed more "beautiful", etc. Not always, but a lot of times the underlying current is there, and it can be frustrating for those of us who are monoracial black to constantly see society uplifting ONE type of beauty over the other. I can see why some want to "clarify" or put certain people in a box.

I think everyone's experiences might be unique just simply due to their skin tone, or even how someone looks, attractiveness levels, size, region of the country they're living in, etc. So, there are a LOT of factors, so I totally get it.

With that said, I totally agree that while it is definitely frustrating to see certain ones in the "Black Community" being given opportunities more than others, at the same time, we really don't know what some of these "lighter-skinned" actresses have had to endure, what they're being told, or how they can be made to feel like an "other" or a "token" for some of them. 🤷🏾‍♀️

My main gripe with Hollywood is that it seems as though monoracial YOUNG black women are constantly being ignored in the industry. 😔 Growing up, I used to at least be able to name some popular monoracial black women who were famous/popular. We at least had Keke, isn't Raven black? lol..... But now days?? It's very hard to even see monoracial black women (young) who are given lead roles in mainstream films.... We're RARELY playing the lead, or even the love interest. 🥴

A lot of roles meant for "black women" are going to biracials lol. Again, I'm not mad (I love to see a fellow woc getting some shine), but it would just be nice to see some black women onscreen who look more like ME, and who are around my age. Yea, it's nice seeing Lupita Nyong'o (for example), or Angela Bassett (who I LOVE!), Kiki Layne, Janelle Monet, etc.... but every now and then, it would just be nice to see some younger monoracial black women who look like myself on the major screen again. 😔 Anyway, let me stop rambling....

[transsexualfiend]

Hewwo kind internet person :3 I have a genuine question if you don't mind- I'm Transgender myself, and I see your username has "transsexual" right in it. Could you tell me what Trans Sexual means? As far as I understand from what context clues I have picked up elsewhere, it's a misunderstanding of Trans Gender because gender and sexuality weren't seen as so different for queer/gay people awhile back.

Was just curious as to if I missed a redefining or reclaiming of the word or if I simply haven't been educated on what it means in the first place. Would love to learn about it so I know how to properly define it in my head. Thank you very kindly :3

Hi! Great question. I'll try to answer in a way that responds to what you asked, and not just give blanket statements.

Transsexual was a term used for a bit more time in the past than the word "transgender". Transgender is credited to being introduced in the 60s, and was popularized and mainstream by the 90s and early 2000s. Transsexual dates back a bit further, and often has a medical component both socially tied to it, and linguistically, as "sex" is considered to be more of a physically-retaining quality.

Many people use the term because their transition IS trans-ing their sex. Trans people who choose to go on hormones and medically transition are biologically changing themselves, which creates a very different life experience from the experience of a cissexual person (someone who does not change their sex). Their interactions with the world, with society, with institutions, privilege, and even with other trans and queer people, is very different from how it would be if they were not medically transitioning. In short, this term reflects a distinct experience and relationship to power.

I wouldn't say that transsexual is a "misunderstanding" of anything. There's definitely been more recent push to eliminate the usage of the word transsexual and opt for the more inclusive term "transgender", because not every trans person medically transitions. This is true! All trans people are trans, and you do not need to medically transition. But for those of us who do, sometimes that distinction is important and crucial to our relationship with our identities. For me, I personally do not feel like transgender is the proper word to describe me, as do many transsexual people, because in my experience my gender isn't what's being "trans-ed", but my sex and biological makeup. To me, it is what makes me whole. Especially older trans people who grew up in a completely different social world for transsexuals, they may choose to use transsexual over transgender for any of the above reasons, and more!

I don't think you've messed anything up! It is a common misconception that "transsexual" is a slur, is offensive, or is an outdated word, but how can it be outdated or wrong when so many transsexuals are alive and trying to survive in this world, ya know? And the transsexual body and transsexual experiences are all so unique and beautiful, it would be awful to try and exclude the rich trans histories that every trans person has to share.

Transsexual people exist, and choose to use that term to describe themselves regardless of if newer generations find it to be "less pretty". It's important to respect whatever someone's identity is, even if you might not fully understand their reasoning for using those words. Plus, it would be transphobic to deny the interconnected experiences of trans people, and especially those of transsexuals.

This isn't a full, complete description, I moreso tuned it to the points you included in your question, but I hope this helps! As always feel free to ask whatever you'd like :)

[forlorngarden]

☕️ im here for YOUR unpopular music opinions bab xx right my wrongs xx

im genuinely a bit terrified because many of my music tastes and opinions are deemed lame and basic but lame girl is my alias and profession so i will commit to it.

before we start let me assessment the level of my lameness - i have a twenty one pilots and a taylor swift tattoo. see? this is what we are working with

whatever

- lyrics are much more important to me than music i do love beautiful melodies and production of course but if the lyrics slap i will probably not give a fuck about anything else

- the best way to listen to music is by going through albums from start to finish. shuffle is evil and my sworn enemy

- phoebe bridgers is in fact one of our greatest songwriters right now. yes, along with mitski. im sorry ridi. they explore different themes and i feel like our connection to said themes is what makes us love one or the other more. and well. it's phoebe for me. i feel like punisher changed the course of my existence that winter night in my small god awful apartment where I listened to it while for the first time while cutting my hair with paper scissors.

- same with taylor. there's much to say about her as a political figure (of sorts), as a businesswoman, as an artist too, and not all of it will be pretty. but she's a strong, strong writer who is constantly overlooked by many outside of her (very annoying and over the top, yes) fanbase (that i have beef with but. that's another story).

one of the most consistent criticisms of her as a songwriter though is that there's too much of her, so much she feels inescapable. and that is a classic case of being woman'd (term courtesy of rayne fisher-quann - we as a society and as consumers are compelled to want to take any woman that gets too successful down a notch. she has always been annoying. there's too much of her. overrated. and so on. rayne's essay was rather eye opening and i can't recommend it enough). but that is a co-product of misogyny, people of marginalized groups (fairly) recognising her privileges and being (fairly) upset by the lack of opportunities for equally talented artists, her enormous fanbase and the pit of despair that is modern stan culture.

- on the topic of stan culture. oh brothers what makes people so mean? for the life of me i can not figure out what good it does you to write "flop" under popcrave tweets. do people feel righteous? cathartic? edgy? is this for the sake of ruling up some and getting throwaway validation from the others? can not wrap my head around this.

- in the same vein. we have GOT to stop demanding content from any kind of artists, musicians included. i think everyone here agrees but i needed to say that because i can not bear seeing this attitude on twitter anymore

- oh those were some thinkpieces babes. well i wasn't an academic for 6 years for nothing

- flash round! melodrama best album ever made; jack antonoff the lows are low but the highs are really fucking high have you heard choreomania and hard feelings/loveless; bo burnham amazing lyricist im not even fucking sorry about this one though i got bullied on tiktok for it; we deserve an emo renaissance. i think that's it for today that was really something

[leonbloder]

Making New Songs From Old Melodies

I feel I've done an excellent job of giving my three boys a reasonably good musical education.  

I introduced them to what might be considered "classic rock" these days at an early age.  They've accompanied me to concerts to see bands like Styx, The Who, Joan Jett, Kiss, Def Leppard, the Smashing Pumpkins, the Black Keys, and many more.

Not too long ago, I was driving back from San Antonio with my two youngest boys, and they asked to play some of their current favorite music for me.  

Most of it was a mixture of Soul, R&B, and hip-hop, which isn't my forte, but I willingly listened because they wanted to share.  It wasn't lost on me that my boys were educating me, which was a rite of passage for us both.

Interestingly, most of the music they were sharing had elements, notes, shifts, and movements that were reminiscent of songs from the 1970s.  I heard echoes of Sam Cook, Marvin Gaye, the Funkadelics, and the like.

But it was different. It was its own thing.  

And even though it wasn't the kind of music I typically listen to, I resonated with it because it took inspiration from the past masters to create something new that spoke to emerging generations.  

I thought about all of this today as I pondered the deep divisions in our current culture over all sorts of issues.  

Some within our society long to return to some imagined past that they believe was more straightforward, more certain, and when their privileged position wasn't being threatened by new ideas, cultural shifts, and people who were different from them.

The problem is that their idealized past never really existed.  

There were people in that idealized past who were marginalized, discriminated against, left behind, forgotten, or straight-up abused.  To them, the idea of returning to that kind of past fills them with absolute dread.

I read an interesting quote from Cameron Trimble the other day that speaks to this:  

We must resist looking to the frameworks of the past to lead us into the future. Doing so is a way to pretend to control, to tighten our grip and reduce our cultural aerodynamic flexibility.

When we look to the "frameworks of the past," we risk losing our ability to move forward.  But I think we can transcend those frameworks, even as we include some of the "musical notes" from the past that make sense to carry with us.  

In fact, Trimble goes on to say:

Instead, perhaps we turn to ways of wisdom that cultivate intuition, patience, and ingenuity. We embrace the ways of a Mystic Wayfinder, one who purposefully gets lost in order to chart new ways forward.

I love Trimble's description of God as the "Mystic Wayfinder," by the way.  I intend on borrowing that.  Sometimes we need to get lost to find ourselves.  Jesus taught this to his followers.

I also resonate with how Trimble speaks here of the "ways of wisdom" as well.  These are the musical notes from the past that I said earlier that we can bring forward to create something new.

What is true for our society is also true for us as individuals.  

We can't go back to the past, but we can transcend what needs to be left behind and bring forward what needs to be included---the notes, melodies, and phrases that are timeless and beautiful.

And we can make new music.  There will be echoes of what we've included from our past in the new things, but they will be entirely new if that makes sense.  

This is how it is meant to be.  The Mystic Wayfinder longs for us to embrace lostness, letting go of what was and finding new, hauntingly familiar songs that are entirely different from what we used to sing.

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all now and forever. Amen.  

[laivindur]

“Here's a reality: No real woman will ever get a red carpet extravaganza at the Rockefeller Center to congratulate her for simply existing. That's the kind of spectacle only reserved for Dylan Mulvaney, a privilege enjoyed only by him and people like him. Why is that a problem?

Well, for a lot of reasons. But I can illustrate one of the reasons with a brief story about the birth of our most recent set of twins two months ago. I'll never forget the moment, standing in the delivery room. The first baby was born successfully, with no complications. But the situation quickly turned dire for the second.

The doctor was unable to safely deliver because of a prolapsed umbilical cord, so he had to make a split-second decision to perform an emergency C-section. I'd never been in the room for any kind of operation before, and I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but it was not that. There was blood and chaos and there was my wife, just laying there, calm but shivering. At several points, on the verge of passing out, the only thing I could do was hold her hand and tell her that the babies were okay and that everything was going to be fine (even though, for a period of several minutes, I wasn't sure if that was actually true). But everything was fine in the end.

My wife has now taken on the task of caring for those two infants, along with our four other children, with incredible grace and joy. And I'm not surprised to see her meet the challenge that way. I’ve always known she is a remarkable woman—that’s why I married her. And yet, there will never be an event at the Rockefeller Center to celebrate my wife's womanhood. She's not going to have any adoring crowds flocking to bask in her presence and applaud her and fawn over her for being a woman. She knows more about being a woman than someone like Dylan Mulvaney will ever know, or could ever know. She's experienced womanhood at the deepest level. She bears its scars, literally. She carries its burdens. She knows its blessing.

She's a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a sister. She's everything that Mulvaney and his ilk have never been and can never understand. And yet he is put on the stage with a spotlight and corporate sponsorships. He is celebrated for being what he isn't. It's like giving a Medal of Honor to some dude who played "Call Of Duty" in his basement.

Now, my wife would never want all of this fanfare, because she’s not a raging narcissist. The point is simply that by elevating and celebrating fake women, our society has emptied womanhood of everything that's truly beautiful, meaningful, and important.”

- Matt Walsh

[remor-se]

happy international women’s day.

being a human is scary, but being a woman is somehow even scarier.

we’re living in a utopia wherein we’re expected to have kids, to give birth, to get sturdy enough when we’re on period. we’re walking amongst society with high expectations for any of us to be elegantly beautiful, and fit into beauty standards they created themselves. we might encounter those who think we can’t be critical, mindfully polite, and/or clever just because we’re a woman. we probably have met those who keep saying as if women can’t have equal opportunities to work for themselves and aim higher.

we’re breathing under the same air with those who throw hatred and ridiculous insults, when we are different. we’re residing with those who would think highly over themselves and picturing us in a lower bar, when we have no privilege to get what they might have.

and somehow, it’s ironic because we may get it from our fellow women itself.

being a human is scary, but being a woman is somehow feel scarier.

stereotypes of women — who should’ve stay at home, taking care of household, shouldn’t work their way to pursue career they dreamt of, or many more... is actually the reason why people slowly creating stigma under women as a weak entity while we’re not.

while we’re not obligated to fill those expectations.

we can achieve our dreams while still taking care of our family. we may also pursue our career and education while considering marriage. we can choose any kind of activities that could enhance our values as a human being while we’re striving as a woman.

we may have those opportunities too, we may have options to get our freedom and live as we should.

in this era where we — could only trust ourselves.

we can embrace our energies while forging harmony in between intellectual development and mentality strength. we are allowed to call out any kind of mistreatment women usually get from other people while elaborating our quality to make a living. we may challenge ourselves from any stereotypes attached within women’s. we can choose to learn and discover many things as others do it too. we are possible to decide how to show our sphere of interest freely without buts.

without being judged, without being mentally abused, without encircled with fears and uneasy.

because live is not only about winning or losing or who’s the strongest physically and mentally.

it’s about embracing your values as an entity, as a woman who deserve to walk throughout the journey without any needs to be worried about being scorned and insulted, or labeled as a social specimen who can’t stand on their own two feet.

we have our voice, we can drive our way out.

dear, you’re not controlled by anyone neither anybody can take over your principles to live.

you’re a woman — and you deserve to paint your own canvas and create beautiful memories. you’re a woman who deserve to get enough credit as you’re snapping into the harsh world and get embraced with equity.

you — and we are enough and we shall value ourselves more in the midst of stigma our fraternity has built.

to all my fellow women in the world, we can play all parts and keep going. please give yourself a huge embracement and don’t be afraid to stand up for good.

let’s #EmbraceEquity and collectively move forward to appreciate our wellbeing as a woman.

happy international women’s day! cheers, xo. 🤍

[artmakerproductions]

Gender Swap AU 

Well folks, it’s a genderbent AU! This isn’t based on any particular adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It’s less “This story, but w/ the characters as the opposite sex”, and more “How would their personalities/vices be applied to the opposite sex?” Ya get my drift? No? Well let’s dive head first into this anyways — ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, I present to you: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Genderbend AU. First, a quick shoutout to Illord aka @mask131 for his assistance as I pretty much used bits and pieces of our conversation(s) we had with each other; w/ some minor edits. 

1) Left to right: Willa Wonka, Charlie Bucket, Augusteen Gloop, Vernon Salt, Michelle TeaVee, Victor “Violet” Beauregarde. 

Wonka Wonka (???): Here, her personality is a mix of Ms. Frizzle, Mary Poppins and Wonka (of course). Not much of a change honestly. She has a bit more sass and giddiness to her overall character I’d suppose. Charlie Bucket (13): Like always, Charlie character is kind and honest. I based her design based off old Cinderella storybook illustrations. Like Cinderella, she wishes to see the factory and a have better life for her family. I’m thinking she’d work at a diner as a waitress/cleaner. (Didn’t change her name cause Charlie can be used by both sexes XP). Augusteen Gloop (11): The gluttonous girl here is the product of the Fat Acceptance Movement; who her mother strongly supports. She encourages her daughter to eat excessively and unhealthily foods to maintain her “perfect figure” in an act of defiance against society’s views on what a woman’s figure should be (doing more harm than good to her daughter’s health). This is meant to be a jab at how both sides of the spectrum (underweight, overweight) are both equally unhealthy and bad for the body and there should be balance. Meets her endgame when she falls into the river and is sucked up the pipe. Her mother, like I said before, showss off Augusteen as a goood representation of the big beautiful women of the world; which truth being that the little girl is just a candy-addict deep down, a true junk food junkie. For the her demise, she falls into a stawberry chocolate river — cause you know, pink is commonly associated w/ girls and this a genderbend and all that.   Vernon Salt (15): At first glance, Vernon is a very posh, very polite and typical snobbish upper class boy, the kind that has received a higher education and acts in a very adult, in a disdainful way... but, as soon as something is he wants is denied from him, he quickly becomes a childish spoiled brat, stomping his fit, using childish insults, crying, wailing and running to his parents. He constantly belittles others and flaunts his wealth and privilege to others w/ his many fur coats, trinkets and other valuable possessions. He wears these large fur coats as a means of making himself more imposing to others (i.e. Cruella de Vil). He meets his endgame in the Trail Mix Room, a stand-in for the Nut Room, where the ingredients of trail mix (berries, grains, nuts, chocolate) are sorted. Wonka uses highly trained weasels/stoat to sniff out anything that’s gone bad. When he goes down to claim one of them for himself he is attacked by the furry critters because of the scent of his fur coat — it being made from rabbit’s fur (an animal that is regularly hunted and eaten by stoats) and in the scuffle, he loses his coat to the weasels and trips falls down the garbage chute. Michelle TeaVee (16): Is a self proclaimed feminist/women’s rights activist (when in reality, it’s just an excuse for her to be rude to others and think highly of herself). She binge watches the news and relays what the TV says to others. Adding nothing new to the topic(s) she talks about having no original thoughts or opinions. Not even bothering to fact check them. She continually questions or “corrects” Wonka throughout the tour, which she pays no attention to and gives snappy rebuttals to her mumbling. Michelle spends her days watching TV nonstop, to prove how sexist and mysoginistic television is in general and fight to change television so that women have power - but in doing so, her wish for a "better television" is also sexist, but towards men (and even other races/cultures); mocking them, sticking them into the same stereotypes women are stuck into, etc. Her parents don’t really know what to do with her as a majority of the time they haven’t a clue on what she’s rambling about thus letting her get away w/ whatever (property damage, harassment, etc.) Victor Beauregarde (16): Victor “Violet” Beauregarde is a pro sportsman (who obnoxiously chews the same stick of gum constantly), but he only specialized in the type of sports that don't require a lot of physical effort and movement. Golfing, ping-pong, bowling or other soft sports for example. Stuff that really rich people with a lot of free time do, reinforcing the idea that his skill/talents are only skin-deep. He is very entitled, obnoxious, rude and believes no harm can befall upon him for his actions as his parents are always there to take care of it for him. He lacks foresight and lacks responsibility. Being a rather clueless idiot. He was given the nickname, “Violet” as a result of his vaguely violet coloured eyes (when really, they’re just blue), a physical trait that his folks have turned into his whole shtick as a means of helping him stand out amongst the crowd. Meets his endgame when he takes an experimental chewing gum despite Wonka’s warnings and turns into a big blueberry and has to be rolled off to be dejuiced. The dessert of the three course meal gum is changed to some other blueberry treat.  2) Victor Talking about his many accomplishments; one, of course, being the record holder for the longest chewed piece of gum. Charlie Bucket is extremely grateful and full of joy that she was the one to find the last golden ticket to visit the factory and meet Wonka. Vernon Salt flaunts his incredible wealth as well as his golden ticket. Acting as if it were the only one in the whole entire world. Augusteen Gloop doesn't talk a whole lot. Just stands there and smiles for the camera (as her mother is the one whose doing all the talking). Michelle TeaVee isn’t even talking about the golden ticket or the factory, but is ranting about politics n' other stuff. The reporter is utterly helpless and terrified.

3) - Charlie finding her Golden Ticket.  - Wonka basically telling Michelle to "shut it".  - Vernon (in a smaller coat he was wearing underneath his bigger one) having one of his temper tantrums.  - Augusteen fantasizing about what else? Food. - Victor now as a blueberry. 

4) A mix of the Tim Burton and '71 film, w/ my own flavouring added to the mix. : P 5) - Augusteen reaching down to the Strawberry Chocolate River, completely unaware of unstable ground crumbling beneath her. - Michelle, wanting to spread her views and opinions to a wider audience, teleports herself into the TV... It quickly goes horribly wrong. - Victor "Violet" Beauregarde starts living up to his nickname as he starts swelling up into a blueberry as a result of the chewing gum's dessert: blueberry cheesecake. - Vernon being attacked by stoats in the Trail Mix Room. His prized fur coats smell of rabbit (as that is where the fur is from) which just happens to be an animal that is commonly hunted by the stoats. In the scuffle, he trips and falls down the garbage chute. - Charlie enjoying a cherry lollipop in the Candy Room. 6) A (now) blue skinned, Victor enters Vernon’s room at a unfortunate moment. Vernon futilely tries to obscure what he's looking at, fumbling to quickly close the tab, but Victor's already seen it. This is why you should always knock on the door first before you enter. Stupid. I know. I thought it was funny. 7) The blue skinned Victor Beauregarde bonks Vernon Salt w/ the 'No Horny' stick, but is revealed that 'No' was a sticky note slapped over the words 'Mor'. Poor Victor is chased by Vernon à la Pepé Le Pew from Looney Tunes. It’s revealed that Michelle TeaVee who tampered w/ the bonk stick. We get the classic, “Ain’t I a stinker?” line from her at the end. As the last one was based on a meme, same applies for the sequel. That being the horny jail meme: knowyourmeme.com/memes/go-to-h…

8) The family members of the ticket winners brought to the tour: - Mr. Salt (loosely modelled off Mr. Salt from the '71 film, and Victoria's father from "Corpse Bride"). - Ms. Gloop (a mix of Queen of Hearts and Ursula). - Grandma Joanne (modelled after Angela Lansbury. Done so after seeing her on "Murder, She Wrote"). - Mr. Beauregarde (Sort of modelled after Eugene from the musical; the "V" is for Victor). - Mrs. TeaVee (Currently has a stuffy nose from her allergies; under recommendation of her 'internet savy' daughter, she hasn't used any name or store brand congestion removal sprays. Michelle doesn’t want the big companies to get their money).

[mariacallous]

I am in the midst of a house move. It is not by choice. I am one of the thousands of renters in London facing eviction – although technically our landlord has simply decided not to renew our tenancy, a decision that doesn’t seem to factor into official eviction stats, though it should, given the frequency with which it’s occurring.

My landlord was one of that rare breed: the “good” landlords. You hear about them occasionally. The bar is very low, yet most private landlords (in London, at least) fail to clear it. Not a price gouger; fixes things when asked; doesn’t treat tenants like squatters who happen to be paying half their monthly salary for the privilege of residing in their buy-to-let.

But without proper legal protections and rights for private tenants, such as rent caps, tenancy security even in cases of house sales, and the option of indefinite tenancies, all that separates a good landlord from a bad one is the wafer-thin concept of decency. Tenants are totally reliant on the whims and personal circumstances of their particular landlord. As such, privately renting is not just a financial and psychological burden: it is also a crash course in extensive relationship management.

See: putting off getting the boiler fixed because the washing machine was just replaced, and if you ask your landlord for two costly repairs in a row a little switch in their brain might flip your house from “asset” to “albatross”, and they might decide to sell. Or calling a house meeting to collectively draft an unfathomably sycophantic email two months before your contract renewal essentially begging the landlord to grant you and your housemates the great honour of staying in their beautiful property. Sending them flowers, just because. (There is a housing crisis, and you need them to like you enough to ignore the estate agent in their ear telling them they can collect 30% more in monthly rent.)

And yet, at the slightest pressure decency withers and dies. In September, my “good” landlord asked to increase the rent by a small and reasonable amount, in line with rising living costs (no word, of course, about decreasing the rate to mirror real-terms pay cuts). My housemates and I agreed, but requested the increase came into effect after 90 days, according to the terms of the contract we had signed, rather than immediately. The landlord pushed back, with an undertone of aggrievement that we would repay their kindness in such a fashion, and then went quiet. Days later, we were informed our tenancy was ending. By adhering to the only legal protection we had, we’d become an albatross.

Unspoken was the reality that by referencing the vulgar, transactional nature of the landlord/tenant relationship, we had pierced the gossamer veneer of civility. We had reminded our landlord that they were a landlord, and not simply a kind benefactor. It was ungrateful in the face of their generosity. Personal affront sealed our fate.

Where the state has withdrawn, I have noticed an increasing emphasis on interpersonal “decency” to one another, an exhortation to rely on a supposed inherent goodness that will see us all done right by. Perhaps the seeds of this rhetoric were first planted by David Cameron’s vision of a “big society”, which involved the cutting down of actual society, via slashed public spending, and its replacement with voluntarism. There is a cultural emphasis on being “kind” in lieu of solid legislative frameworks and state safety nets to catch us when we fall.

Often, it is those people with the most material power who preach this doctrine: at the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, the then chancellor, Rishi Sunak, was instructing the public to practise “kindness” and “decency”, and later refusing to overhaul statutory sick pay. Wealthy celebrities and influencers wield the phrase “Be kind” like a get-out-of-jail-free card at the slightest hint of criticism. And there is a reliance on the individual compassion of the likes of landlords, in order to keep a roof over our heads. This “kindness” is a myth: it is bondage of a feudal nature, an exercise in massaging the egos – or should that be the consciences? – of those with assets and access in the hope that they will continue to patronise the rest of us.

Unfortunately, this vague folk concept of “kindness” disappears as soon as those at the top of the totem pole feel a squeeze; see landlords en masse increasing rental rates in line with their own living costs, never mind that some aren’t even grappling with higher mortgage repayments and have more than enough of a financial cushion from the properties they let out.

It is understandable in times of crisis: a scarcity mindset becomes particularly sharp. The perception of being harder up, however, means kindness falls by the wayside. Self-preservation kicks in, and damn objectivity when it comes to assessing actual power dynamics.

“It’s been a very difficult time for landlords, too,” my friend was told earlier this year, after a rent increase on her mouse-infested flat. The landlord in question collects income from 11 properties. Under the decency doctrine, everyone’s suffering is equal.

Keep your kindness. I would rather have housing security or the ability to easily book a GP appointment without relying on a sympathetic receptionist’s pity when I turn up at the surgery in tears at 8am. “Decency” without the backing of robust welfare and legislative infrastructure is nothing but a farce, existing to alleviate the guilt of the haves in relation to the have-nots. It is a finite resource. The UK, it seems, is close to running on empty.

[lachimolala-is-love-and-life]

THE CORPSE GROOM 💖💀

Genre: Horror!Au, Soulmate!Au Fantasy!Au, Romance, Angst, Death themes

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader, Jin x Reader

Words: 10K

Summary: Lee Y/n's and Kim Namjoon's families have arranged their marriage. Though they like each other at the first sight, Y/n is nervous about the ceremony. While she's in a forest practicing her lines for the wedding, a tree branch becomes a hand that drags her to the land of the dead. It belongs to Kim Seokjin, who was murdered after eloping with his love and now he wants to marry Y/n to find his happy ending. Y/n has another problem. She must get back aboveground before Namjoon marries the villainous Choi Yuna because his parent think his future bride run away from him...forever.

(Story inspired by the plot of “The Corpse Bride” with some modification and addictions. Enjoy it 💖)

(Photo edit is my work, give me my credit if you wanna use. Thank you❤)

“I spent so long in the darkness....I'd almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is!”

Do you know when you are quiet in your homes, with loving parents, a dog that just feels your presence does nothing but worship you? A companion you love with all your heart, willing to sacrifice anything to make you happy, grow old with you... Till death do us part?

Good, because I don’t. You don’t have the luck to have these privileges... My house was made of stone and tended not to emanate any kind of heat, especially the emotional one. My parents at least the people I had to consider as such, but now I didn’t care anymore.

You see, we were humble people, but in order to make room for ourselves in high society, they had decided to arrange a marriage for me with a young Lord of the country that I had never seen and never before known. They were giving my hand as a bride to a complete stranger just to satisfy their selfish desires. I didn’t even know his first name, I just knew his last name. Kim, if I’m not mistaken.

Now, sitting on my little bed of second-hand textiles, I was intent on portraying a delicate butterfly of purple hues. I loved cataloging all kinds of information from an early age, even of the smallest living being, but what I loved the most was being able to draw it. It gave me a kind of freedom from the cruel reality I was destined for, even for just a few minutes.

I watched the little creature that I had locked up in a glass case, so I could study it closely and grasp with ink every little detail of it. I saw myself in her at this moment. Young and full of life, but without any escape...

"Y/n, hurry up! The Kims don’t want to wait any longer and don’t tolerate the delay. The carriage is already here!" my mother shouted from the ground floor. I sighed and freed the butterfly, which escaped without hesitation as soon as she saw a small opening to escape.

I envied her because unlike her, I had to meet my future husband with his family today.

"There will be wedding trials the day before the great ceremony," my father continued to repeat incessantly these last days. It made me laugh to have to marry a stranger in a few hours of knowledge and not be able to rebel...

I took my dusty coat and a little picture of Yeontan. He was my puppy, my only friend, but he died early due to a serious illness. I missed him every day...

I left the house and the first thing I found was the carriage that would take us to our destination with my impatient parents inside.

"Hello Hoseok" I greeted the boy who had been ordered to take us to the Kim. Jung Hoseok was a young man of 26 years. Beauty and a smile that could light up any room in darkness. His family was very poor and it was he who had to provide for everyone, bearing even the harassment of my parents.

"Good morning, Lady Y/n. If we leave right away, we’ll be at the Kim mansion in no time," he said smiling. I gave back a fake smile, but I felt dead inside.

Climbing inside the carriage, I decided to sit in front of my mother and my father laughing. They noticed my presence and their expression changed in seconds.

"Finally, my daughter. It took you long enough"

"Sorry, Mother," I lowered my head as a sign of submission.

My father sighed and began to speak "You caught a big fish hook, Y/n"

"Now all you have to do is pull it into the boat," added my excited mother.

Be happy for my life now ruined thanks to you? Certainly...

"Young Kim should not marry a young Lady, mother? Rich and surrounded by high nobility?"

"Don’t talk nonsense. We are no less than the Kim. I always knew I deserved more than a simpleton life. Being a miserable merchant wasn’t for me.”

"But I never spoke to him" I tried to defend myself from his words. I was disgusted that she used me only for her own interests.

"Pff. At least we have one thing in our favor. The less you talk, the better," she arrogantly said. But I did not have time to say that the carriage stopped and Hoseok opened the door.

"Madam and Gentlemen Lee. We have arrived at our destination"

We went down and gave a little thank-you smile to the young coachman.

The home of the Kim was something magnificent and immense. A real palace.

Why would such a wealthy family marry their son to a simple country girl like me...

We knocked and immediately a butler with a suspicious and reckless look opened the great wooden door.

"Oh, my goodness. Oh, how wonderful. A really impeccable taste" exclaimed my mother while the servant made us sit inside the house.

"It seems obvious to me. Our family has honorable roots in this country and deserves only the best"

We turned to the mysterious voice and a couple stopped in front of us.

"You must be the Lee family, I presume? Is this neglected damsel and little grace would she be my son’s bride?" said the woman in front of me. What kind of haughty and primadonna witch.

"Come. Tea will be served in the west wing of the house. So we can discuss this wedding and wait for rehearsal time for tomorrow’s ceremony."

"Of course, Mrs. Kim. Your house is lovely. What kind of upholstery do you use?"

But as my parents and the one of my future husband were about to have tea, my eyes met at the sight of a beautiful black piano. I approached and began to press some keys. I smiled when I heard the familiar sound. I missed playing it. It was since I was little, since my grandmother taught me how to play it died, I didn’t touch it anymore. In fact, my parents considered it a useless object and decided to have it demolished.

I sat on the small chair and started playing it. A sweet melody began to be heard. I loved him and I missed those days when my grandmother and I spent whole afternoons playing. I admired her very much as a woman and she was the only one who took me seriously, who appreciated my strengths and weaknesses.

I let myself be carried away by the melody so deeply that I did not notice the noise of some steps that were slowly approaching me.

"You play beautifully, Lady Lee"

A deep voice spoke out of the blue, frightening me so much that I fell out of my chair.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in my room enjoying a good book, until the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard enchanted me. I was curious to find out where it came from and I discovered you. Not only is the melody wonderful, but even those who played it are no exception. In fact, an angel is standing right in front of me right now."

I looked at the boy who was in front of me.

He was... beautiful.

Tall and with a toned and strong covering, hidden by a velvet shirt.

Two small dimples appeared on his cheeks as he smiled at me. They were adorable and his eyes were simply indescribable brown.

He looked like a Greek god just escaped from a myth written in an art book.

My heart trembled because of his presence and my cheeks turned red in a few moments.

Why did I feel that way?

I only saw him for a moment, but he had already enchanted me.

Was this... love at first sight?

"Excuse me, Mr Kim," I said as I quickly grabbed the little vase above the piano that was about to fall to the ground because of my fright, "I am so clumsy and I apologize for touching your instrument. I used to play it when I was a kid but my parents took it away from me because they think music is not a lady’s business. I am good for nothing and I can do practically nothing because of my clumsiness except playing the piano and studying on books. But maybe I’m talking too much. I’m sorry. My mom knew that I was too talkative and I should shut up to be a good wife but..." I was interrupted by Namjoon who laid a finger on my lips.

"Hey, don’t worry. I loved hearing you talk and you have a persuasive voice. I don’t see any harm to talk about your passions, and I see that the things you do are done with love, so..."

"You’re so sweet Lord Kim. You don’t have to be nice just because we have to get married tomorrow..." I said to him with a little voice.

"I’m not doing this because we have to get married but I think you’re already interesting at first sight. We share the same passions, and then you’re a wonderful, intelligent woman. I can see you’re not like those ladies who only think about looks and beauty. And under the circumstances, why don’t you just call me Namjoon, Lady Y/n?" said he took my hand gently in his and carried it on his mouth to give a chaste and small kiss. Her lips were so soft. I wonder how they felt about mine?

Wait? What was I thinking? I just met him...

"Nam. .Namjoom. Tomorrow we will be mar...mar...marr ..."

"Married, my dear? Of course," he said as he sat down and played a sweet melody with the piano "You know? When I was a child, I dreamed of the day of my wedding.I always hoped to find someone to fall madly in love with, to spend the rest of my life with. Silly, is not it?"

"Not at all. In fact, I’m of the same mind as you. I’ve always been the lonely girl and different from my peers. They plunged from every dress and make-up of various kinds and surrounded by suitors. The only one who ever courted me was my baby Tannie before he died. No one wants a library guy surrounded only by books as a wife," I said as my eyes turned to the floor.

I don’t know why I was telling him all this to a complete stranger, but I know there’s something about him that tells me I can trust him. Then in a few hours he’ll be my husband. It’s a good feeling, right?

But a couple of fingers took my chin and brought me to meet his gaze.

"People are blind if they can’t see the incredible qualities you possess. You are beautiful and your intelligence and clumsiness make you even more enchanting. All I’d wait for is to flirt and make you mine." He whispers.

I kept looking him in the eye and I got lost in it. I noticed that he stared at my lips intensely and immediately after I saw that he tried to get close to mine. I wanted her mouth on mine, and like a magnet, I was trying to get her close as fast as I could. My heart was pounding so hard that it came out of my chest, and when I put one of my hands on Namjoon’s chest, I noticed that even his heartbeat was going crazy. Was it really love at first sight? My soul mate?

Our lips almost touched when a voice made us suddenly move away from the embrace of one and the other.

"What indecency is this? You shouldn’t be alone together!!" Namjoon’s mother shouted at us.

"There is only one minute left at 5:00 PM and you are not at rehearsals. The priest is waiting for you. Come and hurry!".

He continued to scold us as he was heading to the chapel where the wedding rehearsals would take place shortly thereafter.

Namjoon looked at me with a small smile that immediately reciprocates and then gently take my hand to warn us at the place of rehearsal.

..................................................................................................................

Three hours later...

"Lady Lee, let’s start again. Again!" cried the priest.

We were at the altar repeating our wedding vows. At least, I tried to repeat because I kept forgetting the words.

"With this hand I will take away your worries. Your cup will never be empty because I will be your wine. With this candle will illuminate your path in darkness. With this ring I ask you to be mine. Let’s try again," he told me by looking them severely in the eye.

I grabbed the candle in my hand and approached it to the little flame in front of me.

"With this candle" but did not light. I brought it closer "With this candle..." still nothing.

"To hell. I’ll do it if you want. We’ve been here forever," my mom said. You were making a fool of yourself in front of everyone. Tears began to form in my eyes but I tried to hold them back.

When I tried to light it again for the umpteenth time, this time the flame managed to light it and I continued with the promise.

"With this candle" but a small breath shines and made me feel even more mortified by the embarrassing situation that was being created because of me.

"Continue!" the priest told me, but as soon as he finished talking, the doorbell rang and Namjoon’s father sent the butler to open.

"Go on" Namjoon whispered to me, trying to give me courage.

While I was trying to remember the words, I saw that the guest who played was a young girl of noble origins. A beautiful red velvet dress embraced her graceful shapes. She was wonderful. Not like me...

"I am Choi Yuna and I am here to attend the reception or at least if it happens. The bride seems to me quite unprepared and clumsy"

How dare this woman  speak in this way of me? Even if she was right.

"Come on. Let’s not waste any more time and take the side of the "hand"" said the parish priest.

I raised my right hand while holding the candle with the other.

"With this... this..."

"HAND! What’s wrong with you? Don’t want to get married? At least you brought the ring with you"

Reprimanded for the umpteenth time...

"Of course..." I answered as he pulled it out of his pocket.

"With this ring..." but I did not have time to finish the sentence that the jewel slipped from my hands and began to roll up to the door of the chapel.

"He dropped it. This girl doesn’t want to get married at all". Until that morning I could confirm those words, but after I met Namjoon...

"Enough! Until the girl is ready the marriage will not happen. And you." said the priest pointing to me "learn your oath"

The heart was beating fast, but this time for shame. I was just useless. Now I didn’t even know how to learn two simple sentences. The tears came back, but before I could cry...

"I apologize. Tomorrow there will be no mistakes" and I ran away while the crying took over. I wanted to get away from those people and that house as soon as possible.

But when I ran away I didn’t notice the worried look of my future husband and how the girl who arrived a few moments before ironically whispered in his ear "A very good match, isn’t she?"

.................................................................................................................

I ran out of that house. You couldn’t spend an extra minute in there. I went into the little biscuit that flanked the house to look for some quiet and think about what had just happened.

"Namjoon... you must think I’m stupid now" I looked up to the moon "It couldn’t get any worse".

"Yet, it shouldn’t be difficult. It’s just a stupid oath! Let’s see how it was? With this hand I’ll take your wine? It wasn’t so..."

I tried to repeat myself as you went deeper and deeper into the woods.

"With this hand... will I drink your cup? But what the hell do I say..." slapping myself on the cheek to punish me of the error.

"I.. I... am a complete dork. It’s all for nothing" I said to myself as I sat on a small fallen log.

I pulled the ring out of my pocket and started staring at it. How could I be equal to a man like Kim Namjoon? He didn’t deserve me... but I wanted it so much. If I try to make an effort to be better, maybe...

I took a long sigh and got up quickly, I began to speak with a solemn voice.

"With this hand I will take away your worries. Your cup will never be empty because I will be your wine. With this candle will light your way into darkness." I took the ring between my thumb and index finger and watched as I continued to speak "With this ring I ask you to be mine".

Successfully concluded the oath by putting the small ring in what seemed to me a dry branch. But how wrong I was...

The moment I put it in, a dark, spooky aura rose around me. A cold wind appeared and made my skin crawl and the crows were watching me from the oars with a look of death. I had to go back...

And the moment I tried to get the ring back, one hand grabbed me out of nowhere, causing my body painfully to slam into the ground.

"Help!! Help" I called desperately as I tried to free myself from that grip on my arm.

I pulled even harder until the hand let me fall down again with my butt on the floor. I didn’t have time to get up to run away when a rotting body in a wrinkled black tuxedo appearing before me.

Was he a man? You could consider him so? With pale skin from which you could see lack of skin and the leakage of some bones. His eyes had no pupils. White as milk...

I trembled at the sight in front of me. I would have died the cause of this being. I could not move. I was petrified.

The creature slowly approached me and handed him his hand as he said in a hoarse voice, "I want him..."

I screamed... I screamed so much in fear that my sight started getting smaller and my head getting lighter. But before I could pass out, his face came up to mine and "Now you may kiss the groom".

The darkness engulfed me.

....................................................................................................

When I opened my eyes with a blurred vision and a faint and comfortable voice started talking to me.

"Hey, baby girl. Are you okay?"

"Jin, she’s waking up after she passed out. Give her time to recover."

I slowly opened my eyes and the sight was returning to its place. I really wanted not to see what was in front of me. Skeletons and moldy-skinned people were on top of me.

"Hey, just breathe"

"Feel his skin. It’s still soft"

My eyes were wide open and I suddenly got up to get away from these monsters. What the hell was going on, but especially where did I happen to be?

He asked me as I began to look around. It looked like a huge crypt with dirt walls where monsters and skeletons drink a green substance and a disgusting smell.

A skeleton in a military uniform raised a chalice and shouted "To the newlyweds" and followed by other screams.

W-what?

I looked in front of me and the same being that suddenly appeared to me in the woods, took me in his dead and cold arms, but this time a smile appeared on his face.

"Oh, my love. In the woods you said so perfectly, I was right," "he said, and then he showed me the ring that was on his finger.

I was incredulous. I took the first rejection I had in my hand and began to beat it in my head "Wake up! Wake up! It must be a nightmare. Somebody wake me up!"

"You could get hurt, my love. Why don’t we start getting ready for the wedding feast?" I’m talking to that monster again. But as soon as he finished the sentence, he dropped an eye and he caught it in a hurry and then put it back. "Oh, these jumping eyes. Ahahah"

"AHHHHHH" could not be true. I had to leave this madhouse. I wanted to return in the arms of my lover Namjoon. I have to run away.

He starts to run and make room between those bone stains, but a dead end appeared before me blocking any escape attempt.

"Please! Let me go. I do not belong here".

"Oh my love" the creature "you can’t leave here. We’re married" approached me again.

"But, but.... give me answers. I DEMAND ANSWERS!!"

"Oh of the answers you will have "an unknown voice appeared. I looked around and saw in dim light a young man with black hair who lacked an arm.

"You... who are you?".

"O little mortal. I am Yoongi. I write remembers the fate of all the dead who are here. How their lives were taken from their bodies. Naturally or by the horrible killers"

"Dead? So you’re all dead here?"

"That’s right, dear. I’m Kim Seokjin, your wonderful husband," he said gently kissing my cheek. There was no warmth in his lips. They were as cold as... death.

"I am Lee Y/n and sorry if I am giving you false illusions but I am not your wife. They do not belong in this world. Why do you insist I be your consort!!!"

"He may not be able to answer you clearly, but I can. Let me tell you the story of his death".

Yoongi said, coming closer to me and Seokjin.

"This is a tragic tale of love, passion and brutal murder."

Suddenly everything got dark but soon after I found a young couple in front of me. She was faceless and he had to be Seokjin alive... Wow. He was so beautiful... alive.

Yoongi’s voice appeared again but no trace of him.

"Observe what you see, my mortal dear, and let me clear your mind" and he continued.

"He was very beautiful and envied by everyone. His family possessed unparalleled wealth. Every woman struggled to have him by her side but none could fill his heart with love. When a strange person appeared in his town. A young damsel whose name is unknown, she was beautiful and good-looking, but poor. She persuaded him to fall in love. He quickly collapsed at her advances, so much so that she asked him to run away together. But his parents were against this union. So they decided to organize themselves to escape and marry in secret. She gave him a place to meet and asked him to bring everything he had precious so that they could live peacefully. He as a puppet consented and found himself in the predetermined place" and the scenario before me changed.

Seokjin was alone in search of someone. Probably the girl in the story.

Yonngi continued " he anxiously awaited his beloved. As he wore his dress for the ceremony. He was looking for the damsel in a wedding dress but after a few hours nothing. When he was surrendering but suddenly from the darkness saw something and his little heart began to beat hard by the emotion..."

A shadow appeared behind Seokjin and was about to grab him.

"And then what...?"

"Everything became black" and so darkness reigned while Yoongi’s voice kept me company "and when he opened his eyes he found himself dead in the earth. The jewels and his heart were gone. So he swore that he would only give himself to a true and chaste love, not based on lies as she had done. He waited years for someone to propose to him, and now..."

A dazzling light blinded me and when I opened my eyes I found myself in the crypt with Jin and Yoongi looking at me.

"You have come. With that oath you have promised me eternal fidelity and unchallenged love. Now we will be together forever," Seokijin told me.

No. It couldn’t have been true.

"Now come with me, dear. I have something to give you".

......................................................................................................

Meanwhile at home Kim...

Namjoon and his bride-to-be’s parents were in the living room. He seemed the only one worried about the young bride and her safety. Hours had passed by and she had not yet returned home...

"That wretched daughter of ours. I thought her fear of the dark made her come back here with her tail between her legs like a dog. Instead, it’s who knows where" the spouses Lee complained.

Namjoon made a grimace of annoyance. How could a mother speak in this way of her only daughter?

But his thoughts were interrupted when the young guest who arrived at the reception made her appearance in the drawing room.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr and Mrs Kim, but I can’t help but think the bride-to-be hasn’t shown up yet." She said in a mocking tone.

Choi Yuna was a very attractive woman, but Namjoon had already realized that she could not be trusted.

"But some news" she continued, "it is said around the country that Lady Lee was seen with another man and fled together."

"A man? But she doesn’t know anyone," the father of Y/n.

"That’s what you think. But you can never trust a girl like that. They seem calm and innocent when I actually hide all sorts of relationships with different men." Yuna concluded.

"Well if you need my assistance, you can find me in my room kindly offered by Mr and Mrs Kim." And having said that, she left.

Namjoon was shocked. It couldn’t be true. She seemed so taken with him and he the same with her. She was soul mates, he was sure. That treacherous woman was lying. I was convinced.

"Good heavens. What do we do now? We were about to give the hand of a slut to our son. What can we do now?" that Mrs Kim told her husband.

"Give us a chance to find her. Please. She’ll be here in time for the wedding." She prayed desperately to Y/n. She didn’t care about her daughter, but only worried about losing a place in high society.

"They are disgusting people. I’ll find you Y/N and take you away from your horrible parents," Namjoon thought as he watched the scene in front of him.

"I give you until dawn. Not a minute more". Mrs. Kim proclaimed.

"Come back home, my love," Namjoom sadly thought, hoping that his future wife would magically appear before him.

..........................................................................................................

In the world of the dead...

"Light of my eyes, I have to give you my wedding present" Seokjin smiled. He was a... strange boy. Very special. Gia considered me the most important person in her entire life... at least symbolically.

He had taken me to the highest part of the realm of the dead, whose sight was breath-taking. This was only mine since his... well you understand. But he didn’t know even in my heart there was already someone special for me...

"Seokjin..."

"Call me Jin, dear. We’re married and you don’t have to be so formal."

"See... Jin. I’m very sorry for what happened to you. I really am. But I have to go home."

He caressed my cheek with love, but what I felt was just a cold touch.

"This is your home now. But I have to give you what you deserve for our wedding" and saying that he gave me a gift pack. All ruined and scruffy.

You have to be honest, I was curious to understand what was inside. You open it and instinctively I throws it on the ground.

BONES. THERE WERE BONES IN IT.

"What’s wrong, my love? "he asked me worried.

"Well... usually you don’t give bones in the world of living Jin. I got a bit 'of fear... that’s all"

"Oh but those aren’t just bones..." and having said that, that pile of bones started to move and join together.

Until a dog of only bones appeared before us and began to dazzle cheerfully. He stood right in front of my feet and began to dig as if he wanted to greet me. I only knew a dog that did so...

"Tannie? Is it you?" the "puppy" barked and jumped on my lap in search of cuddles. Tears of joy began to form in my eyes.

"I missed you so much, my puppy" I told him trying to pet him. Jin laughed at the sight of our reunion.

"He is cute"

"Well, Jin. You should have seen him when he was alive and had hair. He was the prettiest dog in the country. But my mother wouldn’t let me hold him. In fact, if I think about it she didn’t like anything. Good thing you don’t have to know"

"Y/n... do you think she would have liked me?"

I looked at him and a light bulb lit up in my head.

"Well maybe you should know her. Maybe... now?"

Jin gave me a huge smile and took my hands in his. "Well, what are we waiting for? We’re already going to his grave. I can’t wait to meet her!!"

"There’s a problem. She’s..."

"Is she still alive?"

Nod to his hypothesis.

"But I cannot go into the world of the living. I am forbidden" I look at myself sadly. I don’t know why, but I felt a slight pinch in my heart when I saw him like this.

"But maybe there would be a solution..." I looked at him puzzled. What was he talking about?

"There is the wise Park Jimin. He knows everything between the stable interaction our world with yours. Maybe something will do..?"

And that is how he is god we found ourselves on top of a huge tower, with a room covered in dusty books and flasks with strange substances.

A bluish-haired boy stood before us, incredulous at the request of the corpse groom.

"What Jin? Why should you go up there? Mortals are dying to get down here. Why is it so... absurd?"

"Wise Jimin. I solemnly ask for your help. It’s very important to me..." i looked at Jin "for us.."

"Please. There must be something. Even a small thing..." Jin looked at him with a desperate look. Did he have a great desire to come up with me? If he was really my lover, I would never meet him with my parents if I had a choice.

Jimin sighed and took from a shelf a gigantic book with a leather cover. I hope not human...

"Found" I saw him lean his index on a particular part of a page of the book. "An old Ukrainian spell. It is ideal for fast trips"

While he was reading, I noticed that he started to put together strange substances of dubious origin. Some of them had an unpleasant smell. Well, I’m in some kind of hell surrounded by the dead. How could they smell good?

There was a small explosion and a small ball came out of the chalice that Jimin was using.

"Good. When you want to come back here, shout "Bell Jumping" and in a few moments you will be in the world of the dead again. Understood?"

After nodding, Jimin broke the orb and a poor golden one came out of it. And in a few seconds I had and Jin went back to the woods where everybody started.

I turned to Jin and found him enchanted staring at the full moon.

"I’ve been in darkness so long, I’d forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is."

Jin began to stare at me taking his hands in his hands. " and being in your company under it. It makes me understand how many I love you. I want to spend my mortal life with you and see you always illuminated by the moon. It makes you even more beautiful".

I began to blush at his words. What was happening to me? I had never felt such feelings and in a short time already my heart could not stop beating in front of Namjoon and Jin... Namjoon.

NAMJOON! I MUST GO BACK TO HIM! HE WILL BE VERY WORRIED!

I’m sorry about Jin, but I have to act to convince him not to follow me to the Kim house.

I took his face in my hands and he leaned on it as soon as he felt my touch.

"My love. I have to pick up my parents to introduce you to them. I won’t be long. Will you wait for me?"

He smiled at me "I would make the world fall for you. I love you... my moon"

My moon... Jin... was considering me as beautiful as the moon. I felt slightly guilty to deceive me in this way but Namjoon climbed waiting... and I loved him...

I’m sorry.

"I’ll be back soon," and that takes me away from Jin’s body. Namjoon. I’m on my way.

I ran and ran until the gigantic mansion of the Kim appeared before me. I tried to open the entrance door but it had been sealed. There must be another entrance...

I look around  and I saw a balcony an open window. Bingo

I began to climb the walls awkwardly and with great difficulty, but managed to reach it. Mo faces the window and notices Namjoon with a gloomy expression intent on reading.

I knocked on the glass and his head turned towards me. He ran towards me and as soon as he opened the window and entered, he welcomed me with a huge hug. So it must be the touch of a lover. Warm and comfortable and not icy...

"Y/n! I’m so happy to see you. I was so worried about you. I thought I’d lost you. There were strange rumors about you but I already knew they were false. And now you’re in my arms. Don’t ever leave me again, okay?"

He returns the love of my lover. I had missed... my soul mate...

After what seemed like an eternity, he let me go. "Where have you been? I was so afraid of losing you..."

I caressed his face. If Jin’s skin was cold and cadaveric, his was warm and soft.

"I admit it. I was terrified of marriage this morning. But even though we have only just met, I realized that I wanted to be with you all the time and that we had to get married as soon as possible. I think I love you..."

He backed his forehead with my "I feel the exact same thing. It was love at first sight and I never want to let you go again"

Having said that, his lips approached mine. Finally...

I also approached mine to kiss him passionately. His lips were warm and fleshy. Soft and with a spicy flavor. I could become addicted to them as attractive and magnetic as they are, and now they’re mine.

When they cut us off from the kiss, Namjoon smiled at me and hugged me again.

I abandoned myself to its warmth and perfume. But when I turned to the window, what I found made me paralyze on the spot.

Jin was climbing up the balcony and about to enter the room.

I took the face of Namjoon in my hands "Jonnie I’m already married"

"What?"

"It’s true but against my will. You have to believe me!!" And when Jin opened the window and came in.

"My love, you were making me wait a long time and so I decided to come all the way here." but his eyes opened wide to see me in the arms of another man.

Jin ripped me out of my lover’s arms.

"Baby, who is he?"

"Who am I? Who are you?" I could notice Namjoon’s anger from the veins of his neck that kept growing and his nervous grin.

"I am Kim Seokjin. Her husband" he said proudly showing the ring he wore on his finger.

"Namjoon, He is dead. A corpse. He forced me, I swear."

But I didn’t have time to finish talking that Jin’s gaze became fierce and deadly and taking me in his arms, he shouted "BELL JUMPING!"

And we were once again taken into the world of the dead.

"You lied to me" Jin pushed me hard.

"SHOULD YOU STAY IN THE ARMS OF ANOTHER MAN? REALLY? THE TREASON NOT FORESEEN IN THE OATH OF OUR MARRIAGE"

"JIN. ARE YOU THE OTHER MAN? DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?"

If Jin could die again, they would definitely have had a heart attack.

"N..no. You are married to me! You are my wife. He is the other man." And tears began to come down from his white eyes...

I felt sorry for him... he had gone through hell and now that he could have some serenity, I was doing him even more harm. But I could not be with him...

"Jin... probably under other circumstances, who knows? But we’re too different. You’re dead."

"You should have thought of that before you proposed..."

I sighed, but I was starting to get nervous, "Why don’t you understand? It was a misunderstanding. I never would have married you if I knew I was in this situation."

Jin’s gaze became even darker and more melancholy...

"Thank you for letting me know... my moon" and disappeared before my eyes.

I didn’t want to hurt him, but it was the right thing to do. Or no? Then why did my heart ache to see his heart break (always in a symbolic sense)

"Jin..."

And without I noticing, a tear slipped on my face.

..............................................................................................................

Home of the Kim’s Family

"Mother! Father! YOU MUST BELIEVE ME. Y/N IS MARRIED TO A CORPSE. I SAW HIM WITH MY EYES! HE WAS HERE. IN THAT ROOM. WITH HER!"

He tried to explain Namjoon to his parents panicked. He could not believe that what had happened, well... IT HAD HAPPENED!

Since when do the dead marry the living and can return from the afterlife? Ninth. It couldn’t be true. It had to be a dream, right?!

"My son. I knew you were out of your mind, but not so much!" laughed Mr Kim.

"What a scandal! That girl is no good! Already married? Bah"

"I can promise you. They were here with me and in a moment "Poof"... disappeared into thin air..."

Hoseok was closely watching the scene in front of him. In addition to being a coachman, he was ordered to obey whatever requests both the family Lee and Kim. Then he knew Y/n...

She could not be married to another man. She rarely left her room and avoided any human contact. She was mocked and she preferred to isolate herself. So what was happening?

He approached the young Kim. He had noticed that compared to his parents, he was kind-hearted and the perfect companion for his lady. Then he was totally panicked and trembled like a leaf. Was it true... what had happened? He approached Namjoon with a blanket to wrap him up and give him some comfort.

"Here, my lord. I hope a blanket will be useful. You are shaking a lot" but Hoseok did not have time to hand it over to him that Mrs Kim threw it on the ground with arrogance.

"What a blanket! He needs a straitjacket. My son is completely crazy!"

And when he had said this, he grabbed Hoseok by the arm and threw him out of the room.

"You’re gonna stay here and think about what you just told us and thank me and your dad for not locking you up in an asylum again. Come on, dear. Let’s go" and when the two of them locked the door, they left Namjoon in a state of complete shock.

Did you know that what you saw was real? Why did you try to get help from your parents? They were just good-for-nothings who knew how to squander their money. That’s why we wanted him to get married. The Lees had managed to make their way among the families with a good economic reputation, and this marriage would only allow a profit interest. But he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love...

.................................................................................................................

Meanwhile, in the living room...

"My wretched son. He must only tell lies and lies. But it’s our last resort to get back into the richest part of the society," lamented Mrs Kim.

"Darling, time is running out, and soon everything will be taken from us if that girl doesn’t come back here. We only have a few family jewels to make a living for a short time... what do we do?"

As the Lee couple thought something to improve their condition, steps began to feel along the long corridor, until Choi Yuna made her appearance again.

"That girl is so unreliable. Throwing away a guy like Namjoon... is a real crime. If I had a man like your son by my side, I would cover him with love but also with riches worthy of him."

"Well...your husband must be a very lucky man to have a lover like you, Miss Choi," said Mrs Kim.

"Oh Mrs. Kim. I’m not married. I had a boyfriend a few years ago, but... a tragedy tore my lover from my arms. By now when you live alone... wealth is no longer worth anything," said Yuna trying to simulate a cry.

The two Kim spouses exchanged a gesture of understanding.

"Lady Choi. We have a request for you".

................................................................................................................

Meanwhile Namjoon was locked in his room looking for something open to be able to somehow unlock the lock. He had to leave that house of evil and selfish people. Look for her love and take her away from those cadaveric arms of that Seokjin.

But his search was abruptly interrupted when his room door opened and his parents again introduced themselves.

"Son! Good news. Indeed wonderful. A wedding there will be"

Namjoon had a puzzled look on her face. "Did you find her? Y/n came back?" she asked with a crumb of hope in her voice.

Namjoon’s mother approached Namjoon and began to fix his hair on his face.

"Get ready, my dear. Relatives will be here any minute. We must make you presentable for Miss Choi!"

"Mi... miss Choi? Mother? Are you kidding?" asked him upset.

"She’s gonna make a great wife, and there’s gonna be better prospects for our... uh... your future.”

No.. it couldn’t be. It couldn’t happen.

"But I don’t love her. You can’t force me to do this..."

There was a moment of silence, but soon after...

"PLEASE! I BEG YOU! THERE MUST BE ANOTHER WAY!" screamed in despair Namjoon. She could not marry that woman. She was treacherous and evil. Did you know that...

Mr Kim spoke up. "If you don’t marry her tomorrow, we’ll be forced to beg in the middle of the street. We’re close tolive under a bridge  by now."

"But Y/n... she..."

"Resign yourself, Namjoon. She’s gone, and tomorrow you’ll marry Miss Choi. And that’s it."

And so they left Namjoon alone again in his room. Full of unhappy thoughts in fun marrying someone he doesn’t love....

But Y/n had disappeared in front of him along with a dead man.

So, um...

And the tears started flooding his face.

............................................................................................................

As the Kim spouses moved away from their son’s room, they did not realize that Yuna was hiding to enjoy the entire conversation.

He approached a small portrait of Namjoon and began to caress him.

"Oh my dear. Don’t look at me like that. You will have to endure this union until death do us part... And it will happen much sooner than you imagine as soon as I poison the drink during the wedding feast" and an evil laugh came out her mouth.

But a noise interrupted her. There was Hoseok who had witnessed what she had just said. But before the young boy could escape to warn his master, Miss Choi took a candlestick nearby and grabbed him by the collar, then to smash him in the head repeatedly... until she was sure that the young man was no longer breathing. His plan should have no mistakes and this was also true for the dead who was at his feet. It was time to get rid of the body.

..............................................................................................................

In the realm of the dead...

I was here alone with what was left of Tannie. I felt guilty for what I had said to Jin. I didn’t want my words to sound so harsh, but he had to know the truth. I had to marry another man I loved...

Then why... when I thought of Namjoon, Jin’s face appeared with him...

I thought back to what Yoongi showed me about his past. He had been murdered by the one he loved most... had to live a life away from everything and everyone and instead? He found himself dead and alone...

If only things had turned out differently...

My thoughts interrupted when Yeontan started pulling my dress with his teeth. "What’s small? You want me to follow you?" I did.

I started walking as Tannie led me to a mysterious place. After a few minutes, I found myself in front of a house, but what made me curious was the weak melody that came from inside.

It was introducing to the one my grandmother used to play... GRANDMA.

She was deceased a while back and she might have been on the inside.

He quickly opened the door to enter a small living room. But what amazed me was not the sight of my grandmother, but of a boy with purple hair and broad shoulders... Seokjin...

I slowly approached his figure while he was busy playing. I tried to get noticed but he seemed to ignore me completely.

"Jin... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you about my parents. It’s just that this day didn’t go well...." I sat next to him as his long sayings continued to press the piano keyboard. " as I had anticipated..."

Nothing. He was ignoring me. So I decided to start playing with him. Just some melody. He wanted him to know that I still cared about him.

He started playing and he stopped listening to me right away, but he wasn’t looking at me yet.

I pushed my fingers away and immediately after he started playing again.

And so I did also. A look of hate struck me down but it did not make me lose.

We begin to play together a beautiful melody and slowly I could notice a weak smile on his face. The same happens with me. Neither of them spoke but I was loving how we were starting to have fun just playing a musical instrument.

Immediately after that he began to laugh. He had a contagious and beautiful laugh. Why didn’t I notice until now? It was pleasant to be in his company. If only he were alive...

As soon as we finished playing, Jin looked at me gently in the eyes "Sorry... I got excited".

I took his hand in mine.

"I like your enthusiasm. Really..."

And we began to look into each other’s eyes. Although his eyes were white and had no pupils, I no longer feared them. Not anymore. On the contrary, they gave me a sort of comfort. I was getting lost, like Namjoon had.

I was admiring him too? Of a dead man? But what happened next was Jin who gently leaned his lips on my lips...

His  lips were cold, but also soft. A feeling... different? But pleasant at the same time.

The kiss did not last very long especially since a euphoric Yoongi ran to us screaming "Run boys. A newcomer to the realm of the dead! Hurry up"

Jin took my hand and put a little kiss on top of it  and then he took me with him and follow Yoongi.

The square was full but what made me jump with joy was to see a familiar figure. But why was he here? He was still young...

"Hoseok... is that you?" I asked as I approached.

"Lady Y/n. How nice to see you here. Then it was true what Namjoon said. Are you really married to a corpse??" He said, noting my firm grip with Jin’s hand

"Um... it’s a long story. But what are you doing here?"

"Well, my lady. I’m not sure what happened. I don’t remember. But it opens up to me that someone murdered me. But for now my face and name run away.

Argh... I don’t even remember if it was a man or a woman"said Hoseok hitting his head with small fists.

Yoongi approached "it’s normal. As soon as you die for a few moments you won’t remember what happened to how you died. Your moment will come sooner or later. Wait and see..."

"Thank you very much, Mr..."

"Min Yoongi. But just call me Yoongi". Hoseok smiled at the boy in front of him and then turned to me again.

"Hoseok... how is everybody up there? They must be so worried..."

"Well, they’re still wondering where you are. And young Kim..."

At the mention of Namjoon my eyes opened wide for concern, but I did not notice the handshake by Jin with his hand in mine.

"Well. He’s getting married. Tonight..."

The world was falling apart on me.

"How? What? WITH WHO?"

"Oh my God... she’s a stranger. Miss... Miss... I don’t really remember her name and surname. My death gave me a terrible amnesia. "

But... he told me he loved me. He was lying...?

"Well, you know. You disappeared and never showed up again... I guess they didn’t want to waste all the expenses for the ceremony."

"But... but how could he..." he didn’t feel the same way I did. Was he deceiving me all this time? He seemed so sincere... and instead...

Jin noticed that something in me was not going well after the news of her now ex-lover’s wedding.

"Y/n come with me" and so I was transported from Jin to who knows where... What was the point of living now? My living soul mate had betrayed me and the other... well... he was dead...

You take me to a roomy room of wooden bars. You couldn’t believe it again... why the love of doing so bad?

"Baby, don’t cry. You have to be strong and move on. I will always be there for you and you will always be my number one priority. My moon... I hope you can love me as I’m loving you in this memento," he said embracing me.

I abandoned myself completely in his arms. After everything you had told him, he still wanted me...

Maybe I deserved Namjoon to betray me. After all, you did it with Seokjin.

But despite his body was not hot, I don’t know. I felt good about it.

But we were interrupted by Jimin.

"Here you are. You were looking for yourself. I just found something interesting."

"What did you find?" Jin asked.

"Well... there is a complication with your marriage. The oath is only valid until death do you part.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Jinnie... death has already separated you. The only solution to be able to officiate everything requires a great sacrifice. "

"What do you mean?"

"She... must die"

Jin’s eyes opened wide and he kept hugging me as Jimin kept talking.

"Y/n should give up his life forever. She should repeat the oath on the land of the people who live and drink the wine of death".

"Jimin... I love her but I can’t ask her to give up her life for me. If I am to die, it must happen at the hands of fate and not mine," said Jin with tears in his eyes.

"I’m sorry but there is no other solution... Her heart must stop forever to be with you"

A tombal silence surrounded us. My life was at stake. But if I had nothing up there now. Nothing worth living for, maybe here...

"I will," I solemnly said.

Jin took my face in his dead hands and Jimin seemed amazed by my words.

"My girl, if you choose this path... you will never be able to return to the world above. Do you understand?"

Look Jin in the eye and I gave him a drink kiss on his lips.

"Yes. I’ll do it to be with you Jin".

He smiled at me, "Give up your life for me? My moon you don’t have to do that."

"But I want... we will be together for eternity Jin. I have no one up there now, but here? I have the love I’ve been looking for for years and I want to do it"

He kissed me again with more passion. Finally our lonely souls would find peace.

"Well, if you’ve decided so. I’ll prepare what it takes to rise to the surface again and the potion for you Y/n" and said that Jimin left.

"We are doing, my love."

"Yes, and i can’t wait to do it...with you".

............................................................................................................

Meanwhile at home Kim the wedding between Namjoon and Yuna had just ended and it was time for the wedding banquet. Namjoon was a sea, indeed an ocean of despair.

Not only did he lose the love of his life, but he had just married a woman who had nothing to do with him. His life was falling apart... completely.

Suddenly Yuna got up to make the toast "Namjoon found a golden wife. Perfect for him. With qualities of great level, worthy of a true woman. Destiny has united us and no one will ever be able to divide us"

Namjoon was beside himself. Destiny said? Lies.

Hoseok had disappeared and his beloved as well. The situation was starting to stink and he knew that she had something to do with it.

"Shut up! You don’t know one of me. I married you just to do my parents a favor but I don’t love you and I never will. My heart belongs only to one person and it’s not you."

Having said that, Namjoon got up from the table and ran away. That would not have been life. He had to run... away from here. From everything and everyone.

The only person who could understand it was missing, and nothing could happen to bring her back.

But as soon as it came out, a noise began to come from the church and a fluorescent green light came out of the windows.

Out of curiosity, Namjoon began to walk towards the sacred building to see what was happening.

...........................................................................................................

The church was decorated with blue and purple rose petals and each deceased occupied a small space to attend the wedding between Lee Y/n and Kim Seokjin.

I was wearing a white, white, elegant wedding dress. My heart was racing. The idea of dying scared me, but if I thought I will find myself in Jin’s arms right away and  he will love me for eternity.. well... It was kind of comforting.

I fixed my veil and when Yoongi called me, I knew that moment was coming.

The church was in celebration and I observed the long failure that would lead me to what would be my future companion in death.

He was beautiful. His purple hair brought out his white eyes and fleshy lips. My heart trembled. I was doing the right thing? Sure. Namjoon had moved on and so I had to do it too. As soon as I got to the altar, Jin took my hands in his hands and stared at me with love. Yes, now I was sure to marry him and make him mine forever.

Jimin had proposed to be our priest to officiate the wedding and as soon as the organ music ended, he started talking.

"Dear friends. We are gathered here today to join this woman and this corpse in marriage."

But as he spoke, Jimin’s eye saw a living young man hiding behind a pillar of the church. It was Namjoon and he was attending the wedding of his beloved with another man. But he pretended nothing and continued.

"Now Y/n. You can start with your oath"

Look into Jin’s eyes with extreme love. I took a breath and started.

"With this hand I will take away your worries. Your chalice will never be empty because I will be your wine," I said as I grabbed the chalice with poison in it.

"It’s your turn, Seokjin." Jimin said.

"With this hand I will take away your worries. Your cup will never be empty because I will be yours..." but Jin interrupted the sentence suddenly. What was going on?

I didn’t know that Namjoon was hiding behind me, who slowly decided to approach the altar. Jin saw him and was surprised to see him there. In front of the people attending his wedding. With a shocked face.

"I... I will be..." he tried to continue

"Your cup will never be empty... because I... will be....." nothing. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

I understood his nervousness. I was like that too and decided to help him.

"... I will be your wine" I concluded the sentence for him while I carried the poison to my mouth.

But before I could take a sip, Jin took it out of my hands.

What was he so suddenly into?

"Y/n can’t do it..." he said in a weak voice.

"What’s wrong with Jin? What’s wrong with you?!" I asked him worried. Why did he change his mind?

Jin, I’m gonna start stroking my face.

"I was a groom, but they deprived me of my dream. Now... I am stealing someone else’s... I love you Y/n. My beautiful moon. Light of my eyes... but you are not mine." Immediately after he looked behind my back "Please. Come closer."

I looked behind me and was shocked to see Namjoon. What was he doing here?

He supposed to be married...

Young Kim slowly approached us. Jin grabbed my and his hand, making them intertwine with each other. I didn’t understand...

"But... you married someone else."

Namjoon took me to himself "my love, they forced me. I did not want to marry her, in fact I ran away to look for you. But now you’re here safe and sound in my arms. Don’t ever let me alone again." He hugs me back but at the same time I looked sadly at Jin. He was giving up his happiness again for me. He was too good... too good for this evil world...

"Jin... thank you," he smiled at me and stroked my head.

"I recommend Kim. Take care of her for me. Don’t hurt her or I’ll come find you. Okay?

Namjoon smiled at the rider’s words before him "Quiet. As you said. It will be my number one priority".

But before anyone could add anything else, a female voice appeared.

"Well, well. Finally our young lovers have gathered".

It was Yuna Choi. What the hell was she doing here?

"Now you can live happily ever after, can’t you? Have your happy ending. But you’ve forgotten one little thing." He forcefully seized Namjoon to bring him close to his side, ripping him from my arms. "He is still my husband and I will not go empty-handed!"

I tried to get close to Namjoon, but Jin’s expression make me stop. He had a look of full anguish on his face.

"You... are her."

Yuna I observe it and began to whiten at the sight of the corpse groom.

"Jinnie...? What are you doing here... I.. I had left you..."

"Dead..." he ended the sentence.

I took my hands to my mouth for surprise. It was her. She had killed him to take possession of his wealth and probably would have done the same with Namjoon.

"But ... leave me alone. You should be underground. Get away from me" She shout him.

But as soon as we tried to intervene, he pulled a knife out from under his skirt and brought it to Namjoon’s throat.

"Sorry, but we really have to go now. Come on, big guy. Let’s go," he said, trying to back off as he took Namjoon with her.

"Get your filthy hands off him! Bitch!" I yelled at her with all the rage I had. It was always her fault. And it was her fault if Jin had to suffer an eternity full of remorse. He did not deserve such a person.

"Oh, do you want to die girl? I’ll settle right away" and quickly she tooks off Namjoon’s neck blade to stab me.

Instinctively I put my arms around trying to protect myself but the pain never came. In fact, something had come between me and the blade.

I looked up and saw the figure of Jin. He protected me with his body...

Yuna was blown away.

"You can’t kill someone who’s already dead. Now get out of here before I kill you with my bare hands," his fury was almost palpable, and anyone inside the church could feel it.

"All right. I’m leaving, my dear," Yuna said, trying to get away, but not before she  grabs the chalice that she found on the altar. My chalice...

"But first I wanna celebrate fo you, Kim Seokjin. He who will be remembered with a simple wedding witness and never as a groom. In fact, tell me if a heart can be beat even if you are dead. Ahahah."

Her laughter made me shiver but at the same time it made me angry. How could she behave so with him... that all his life he shared it is was love.

She nodded to Jin and took a sip of what was in the cup. The poison... the poison that had to kill me to be with Jin... and she had just been drinking it.

But in a few seconds she collapsed on the floor. I covered her with convulsions. I start moving blood out of her mouth as soon as she breathed her last breath, she fell on the floor, died.

I was shocked by the situation but my trance was interrupted by Namjoon’s embrace.

"I thought I’d never see you again, my love. I missed you." I turned to him and returned the gesture.

"When they told me that you had remarried, my heart was broken. I was willing to die as well. But now that I know you love me, everything will be fine, but first..." I walked away from him to get close to Jin. I approached him and gave him a little kiss on his lips, the last before I never saw him again.

He reciprocated with affection and when on detachment from them, he gave me another kiss on my forehead and then he said "Farewell my little moon. It was nice to love someone again. "And having said that, he tooks off the ring I put on him that night and he gave it to me. He smiled at me one last time before approaching the first window where the moonlight illuminated and immediately afterwards his body began to fade away.

Small purple butterflies appared while he was disappearing and they began to fly away, flying towards the moon. Jin wanted more than anything. Now he was free and would not only be known as "the corpse groom" but as the man who taught me to forgive and the true meaning of love.

I looked at Namjoon gently and before I could say anything, she kissed me passionately on the lips.

"It’s time to plan a wedding huh? But this time smoothly. I promise" I smile at his words. I missed him sp much.

I looked one last time at the window where Jin disappeared. The moon was immense and beautiful. Like him.

"Goodbye Kim Seokjin. I love you. I hope to see you again in the next life..."

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Deception [Benedict Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Deception Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 4.5k Published: 21 March 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Violet's constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes​​​

Square filled: Fake dating

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Benedict Bridgerton was a very capable man. He had a tremendous amount of talent in capturing the real beauty of the world in his drawings. He was confident, but still genuinely kind and caring for his loved ones. He also had a rather playful side to him, a somewhat child-like behaviour, one that the ton would not have appreciated in their society, but Benedict had the privilege to show his real personality to those who loved him, ones that never judged him for who he was.

However, there was one person he felt utterly useless around. When it came to you, he turned into an adorable mess, a clumsy one at that, even stuttering on occasions. Should you have known the reason for his unusual behaviour, it would have brought a rather large smile to your face, but Benedict dared not to reveal his feelings for you.

For someone who has been friends for so long, you both seemed to have found it hard to show your true feelings for one another, as though both of you were clueless. For Benedict it seemed you only spared as much attention to him as a friend would, whilst you thought he was merely looking out for you as a brother figure.

You sat in the ballroom, watching as he grimaced at his mother, who might have slightly forced her second oldest child to dance with one of the many stunning unwed ladies. The one he was forced to dance with however seemed to enjoy Benedict's company. He didn't talk, nor did he look at the woman, still she shined brighter than a diamond in his arms, proud to be so close to such a fine man.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you watched as he held his hand firmly on her back, leading her around the dance floor, making her giggle by just being close to her. Your heart ached at the thought of ever having to give up on him, at the thought of seeing him with another, someone he would choose to love, ignoring to see your longing gazes forgotten on him. How could he have seen, he never dared to look when he felt your eyes on him, nor did you dared to look when he forgot his on you.

Standing up from your chair, you walked towards the terrace, needing fresh air, trying to clear your thoughts as the slightly cool, windy weather stroked your cheeks. You knew you shouldn't have thought of him romantically, but you would have been a fool not to notice the handsome and caring man he has grown into. Watching Lady Bridgerton trying to find a wife to her son hurt both emotionally and physically and you couldn't wait for the season to end, to leave the balls and play-pretend behind you, running away from the inevitable.

"Help me!" you heard his desperate voice, but before you could have turned around, you felt his hand lock around your wrist, gently, but in a haste, dragging you after himself.

"Benedict, what are you doing?" you asked in confusion, trying to understand his chaotic behaviour as he pulled you along, passing corridors by corridors in the gigantic mansion.

"My mother," he sighed as he stopped his steps, breathing heavily. "My mother is becoming—" you waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have been stuck in his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" you asked, frowning at his frozen state, as though he couldn't find the words and his thoughts overruled his actions. You watched his hunched back as he fought to get enough air in his lungs, his eyes focused on a certain point on the marble flooring, completely out of the present. "Benedict!" you called him again, this time firmly, attempting to catch his attention.

"I know it!" he exclaimed, making you jump slightly at his unexpected enthusiasm as a rather wide smile spread across his face.

"What do you know exactly?" you inquired.

"It might sound foolish at first and I do not blame you if you think I have lost my mind, but I need your help," he explained, leaving you even more curious.

"What would I need to help you with?" you asked furrowing at the man as if he has forgotten to include you in his grand idea.

"My mother has been adamant in finding me a wife and there is only so much I can do to prevent her from continuing her crusade. I know I shouldn't ask you such a thing, but I can't possibly think of anyone else who I trust enough," he continued in a secretive manner.

"Benedict, you must be clearer. I don't understand what you wish for me to do," you attempted to push him to finally reveal his idea.

"I need my mother to stop searching for a wife and the only way I can do that is if I already found someone I am interested in," he started. "That is where I would need your help, if you agreed. Should you agree to pretend I am courting you, my mother would surely stop this nonsense and leave me alone," for a mere second you felt overwhelmed by the hope of his interest in you, but that was only until your brain processed his words. "Pretend" being the main focus of your attention, shattering the small shimmering light of hope within you.

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, attempting to hide your disappointment. "Surely you didn't think this through. Your mother isn't a fool, she would see through us immediately. You can't possibly think it's a good idea," you tried to reason with him, but instead of thinking it through again, he quickly shook his head.

"But it is. Think about it. You have said so yourself, you don't want to marry just yet and nor do I. It would be the perfect option for both of us, solving our issues," he added enthusiastically as if his idea was anything, but brilliant. He could clearly see the weary expression across your face as he stepped closer and reached for your hands, engulfing them in his large and warm palms. "We would only have to pretend for a short while, I promise," he tried to reassure you. Whilst you knew it was a foolish idea, the thought of being able to stay close to him even if for a short period of time, seemed to cloud your better judgement.

"For how long?" you asked looking up at him as a mischievous grin spread across his dashingly handsome face. One that you adored so much. "I wouldn't want to be a spinster, Benedict," you sighed heavily.

"I would never let that happen," he shook his head quickly, his previously playful smile long gone from his face. "Let us do it for a few weeks and we will see how my mother reacts. I'm sure if we work well together, you might even catch the attention of some very noble men too," he winked jokingly, trying to lift your dull mood.

You haven't had much time to contemplate, maybe a few seconds until you ran through all the options you have been provided with, which was basically none. You heaved a heavy sigh and shook your head, offering a sceptical look to Benedict. "Fine," you said, earning a surprised expression from him, your answer shocking him for a second, before he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, twirling you around happily.

"You are my saviour," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on your forehead, stopping himself as he realised what he had done. "I apologise, I didn't mean to—"

"I understand. You are simply happy I have agreed to such a scandalous idea," you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the happiness you felt. Even if for a short while, Benedict was to belong to you, and it meant more than you could have possibly expressed. You knew you couldn't have him forever but having him for a couple of weeks made you feel like the happiest person alive.

"I owe you! I didn't think you would agree," he grinned happily, a childish warmness radiating from his stance as though he had won a grand prize.

"I still don't understand why I did. Surely, I'm a fool," you added quickly with a silent chuckle.

"We both are," he replied as he started leading you back to the ballroom with your arm linked around his. His gaze focused on the way ahead, but your eyes were rather resting on his attractive features. He was a stunning man, and you were sure if he had turned to look at you, he would have seen the amount of love you were harbouring for him. But as many times before, no one of you has ever turned.

Weeks passed by and if anyone, Violet Bridgerton was the happiest person to see Benedict growing closer to the woman, you, she had envisioned beside her second eldest son. She has made it very clear that a wedding should soon be happening, wanting nothing but a little baby in her arms. You never wanted to crash her dreams but hearing her talking about a future between you and Benedict was beyond painful. The thought of you waking up beside Benedict, his arm resting across your waist, his neck hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin made your heart ache, knowing it was impossible.

You stood in Somerset House, one arm hooked around Benedict's as he watched the paintings, his face focused on one particular art with dark colours and shadings, slightly depressing as if the artist tried to capture a horrible emotion. Art was always something that you found beautiful, but never really understood. When Benedict talked about the meaning behind each piece with a childish happiness across his face, it made you feel content. Although you didn't understand much of what he was saying, the adorable expression he wore was worth each and every moment you spent listening to him.

Looking at his handsome features as they relaxed into a content smile, made you mirror his expression. You couldn't look at him and not smile. As though his mere presence made you feel at ease.

"I feel your eyes on me," he chuckled with a mischievous smile, knowing that you have indeed been staring at him for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," you quickly turned away, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop watching you. You were really focused on that painting and it seemed as though you were here physically, but not mentally. You unintentionally make this face when you enjoy a painting," you smiled shyly.

"A face?" he furrowed, not knowing of his own reaction.

"Yes, as if you were completely captured by the painting. You have a certain content smile across your face and even forget to blink at times," you giggled, placing your hand in front of your mouth, remembering his facial expression.

"Don't hide your smile," he said as he reached for your wrist and gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling your hand away from your lips. "You are even more beautiful when you smile," for a second his words made you hope, as though he meant more than he let on. His eyes seemed as if they could see through you, reading each and every single thought that crossed your mind. For the shortest of time, it felt your feelings weren't as unrequited as you thought. However, you quickly had to remind yourself that your imagination was playing a painful game with you, one that would surely end in a heartbreak.

You quickly turned away, trying to shake those foolish thoughts away, before you decided to dwell on them any longer. Clearing your thoughts, you turned back to him with a phony smile across your face, biting your bottom lip to calm yourself. But his deep frown left you confused. "Are you okay?" you questioned as he tilted his head as if he was studying your face.

"You were biting your lips again," he replied. "You do that when you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable," he added, stunning you. Biting your lips was indeed a nervous habit of yours, one that you couldn't stop as it made you feel slightly at ease when you felt as if even your own thoughts betrayed you. You never thought Benedict even realised those irrelevant, minor details.

"I'm fine, Benedict," you tried to reassure him with a smile that you wore confidently but could not fool Benedict.

"Should you feel the need to talk, I'm here," he said, drawing tiny circles on the back of your arm that he was still securely holding onto, reassuring you that he was by your side whenever you were in need of him.

As happy as it made you, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as you thought about the heartbreak when he would finally want to end your foolish little game and find himself a wife that he could cherish forever, leaving you with the most horrible heartache one could cause.

You knew it was inevitable, you knew it would kill you, but you loved Benedict and you would have never forced him to stay beside you for any longer than he wanted to. You were ready to give him up, to be happy even if with someone else. The thought of letting him go hurt, but you weren't sure of your own strength either. Thinking about how long you could stay beside him pretending to be a mere friend left you with just as much pain, if not more. But you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness even if to be able to spend one more second with him.

Days passed by since your slightly awkward encounter in Somerset House. You have pretended to be a couple so in love that you couldn't possibly stay away from each other. Lady Whistledown didn't miss to write a paragraph or two about the two of you, already planning your wedding, one that you found slightly excessive, but dared not to mention to keep your act believable.

As much as you enjoyed the first few weeks of your play-pretend, it was hard to keep it up for long. You loved every minute you spent with Benedict, but the longer you were beside him, the more pain you felt. You wished to make him happy, to continue your act, but you also knew that it wasn't forever, and that tiny little thought suffocated you.

You sat on a bench in the park, right after promenading with Benedict. He joined his brothers whilst your maid brought you a glass of water to refresh yourself. You watched as Benedict laughed with his brothers, a wide, adorable and carefree smile sat across his face. Weeks ago, you would have smiled at his happiness, but then and there, sitting on the bench, watching his happy form, you felt miserable. Each time you looked at him, your stomach jumped nervously, your breath caught in your lungs as he touched your arm. These tiny little details meant nothing to him, but for you they meant the world. He couldn't have known the effects his advances left on you, he couldn't have predicted to hurt you unintentionally, but in the end, he unknowingly caused you pain.

Standing up from the bench, you started walking towards the Bridgerton brothers. Heaving a heavy sight, you lifted your arm and tapped Benedict's shoulder lightly, trying to catch his attention. He turned around with a wide smile, looking at you curiously. However, your face must have forgotten to oblige as his smile quickly disappeared and concern took over him.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he nodded to his brothers and reached for your hand, placing it on his arm, leading you away from his family.

"I must talk to you," you started, your voice unusually grim.

"Go ahead. You are worrying me," he added impatiently. Trying to collect your thoughts, you stopped, halting the man beside you whose worried eyes didn't seem to want to leave you for a mere second. "Talk to me," he attempted to reassure you.

"I am really sorry, but I can't possibly do this anymore," your words earned a confused frown from Benedict, before he finally understood what you meant. "I know I promised to help you and I wish I could have done it longer, but I honestly can't do this anymore," you added as you fought against your tears, trying to keep them in place for as long as you could. You couldn't let yourself cry in front of so many people, you couldn't let that happen. Benedict straightened himself in front of you, trying to hide your face from the curious eyes.

"I understand. I am sorry for forcing you to do this. I never thought it could be this hard on you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?" he asked, trying to contain himself from wrapping his arms around you, fidgeting with his hands beside his thighs.

"I know and you didn't hurt me, it's not your fault. It has just become rather difficult recently and I don't think I'm capable of pretending anymore," you tried to reassure him, making him feel less guilty. "I'm still your friend and I will always be your friend," you added with a phoney smile. Your own words were a lie. You didn't know how long you could pretend to be his friend, but you knew he needed to hear that, he needed not to blame himself. "I will be going home now, but surely I will see you later," you smiled up at him as you curtsied and nodded towards your maid, ready to head home, completely oblivious to the pained gaze he was watching your slowly disappearing form with.

Whilst you sat in your carriage, letting your tears finally run down your cheeks, leaning on your maid's shoulder, Benedict stood confused between Colin and Anthony, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts filled with you only.

"Brother?" Colin called for him with concern in his eyes. It was unusual to see his brother unresponsive, without a playful smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, earning a frown from Benedict.

"I shouldn't have dragged her into this," he replied, but his words were directed more to himself than his brothers.

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, seemingly more interested in their conversation.

"It was all a lie," Benedict replied, his gaze still fixed on the carefully cut grass.

"What was a lie?" the eldest Bridgerton brother asked again.

"All along we were pretending to be courting, so mother would stop trying to force me to marry," he scoffed, finally understanding the weight of his idea. "She said she can't do this anymore. That it was too painful to bear," he shook his head, guilt overcoming him.

"You really are a fool," Anthony replied with a sceptical look across his face, earning a confused look from both Colin and Benedict.

"How do you mean? Is it because we have been pretending?" Benedict questioned his brother. "I know it was foolish, but she agreed, I didn't know it would be particularly hard on her," he added with a deep frown.

"Brother, can you not see the way she looks at you? Always trying to make you feel happy, bringing a smile to your face even when she, herself is struggling to do so? Are you really that blind?" Anthony raised a questioning brow, as though he couldn't believe how oblivious his brother was towards your feelings.

"Should I understand?" he asked tilting his head innocently, searching for the right explanation. "We have been friends from a very young age, I am certain we have always tried to make each other smile in a difficult situation," he added, earning an eye roll from the eldest Bridgerton brother, ignoring his manners.

"When you said you were courting her, I thought you finally realised that you weren't the only one with feelings beyond friendship. However, after hearing about this foolish idea of yours, forcing a lady to pretend to love you, when in fact she has feelings for you is beyond stupid, brother, and I'm quite disappointed in you for not realising it yourself," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Are you telling me she has feelings for me?" Benedict asked in disbelief, his brother's words lighting a weak hope within him.

"Indeed, took you long enough to understand," he scoffed.

"I have to talk to her," Benedict added quickly, heading towards the carriages in haste, carefully planning all he needed to tell you.

The ride didn't take long, 20 minutes at most, before he stood in front of your house, his hands shaking slightly, nervousness running through his whole being. Knocking on the door, a maid opened it for him, asking him to wait to announce his arrival to you.

You laid on your bed, cheeks swollen from crying, bottom lip red as a result of the constant biting of your nervous state. A knock on your door brought you out of your misery as your maid walked into the room.

"Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you," she said with a saddened tone, knowing of the arrangement between the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise, you weren't ready to see him, especially not in your current, heartbroken state. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?" she questioned, looking at the panicked expression across your face.

"No, it's fine. Please take him to the drawing room," you instructed her and headed to the bathroom to make yourself presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face was slightly swollen, and your clothes were beyond wrinkled. Attempting to straighten your dress, you stroked the material over and over again, but it didn't seem to work, nor did the cold water you washed your face with to remove the evidence of your miserable state. At last, you gave up and walked to the drawing room, knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything else with your appearance.

"We have just parted, Benedict," you said to the man as you stepped inside the room and took a seat across the sofa he occupied.

"I needed to see you," he replied, standing up from his place and taking a seat beside you. "I—, I talked to my brothers after you left," he started, stammering over his words, something he only did in his nervous state. "I am a fool and there is no excuse for that. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must have been for you to pretend—"

"I have told you already, I am completely fine," you tried to reassure him with a faux smile, one that this time Benedict didn't believe to be genuine.

"But are you?" he asked, earning a confused frown from you. "Do you know why I thought this foolish idea to be brilliant in the first place?" he raised a questioning brow, but instead of replying you shook your head. "I wanted to be closer to you. I merely thought it would be my chance to spend more time with you. Surely, I had no intention to marry anyone, and I wished my mother to stop, but my primary concern was you. I wanted to be near you at all times, but I couldn't possibly tell you how I felt, knowing you would only reject me," you couldn't control the surprise sitting across your face, your lips parted in shock, his words seemingly part of your most precious dreams. It seemed surreal.

"You are confusing me, Benedict," you spoke up, trying not to hope once again to then fall painfully.

"I'm saying I love you. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember when it started. I never imagined my feelings could be returned and I turned to foolish ideas to be beside you. I needed my brothers to open my eyes and scold me for being childish, for making me hope that I might have your heart even if only half as much as you have mine," he reached for you hand, gently squeezing it in his hold, reassuring you that he meant every single word of his.

"I love you," you blurted out, astonished by his speech, your own words surprising you.

"You do?" he asked, afraid to believe the words he has longed to hear from you.

"I do," you nodded, this time with more confidence, earning a wholehearted smile from Benedict as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in his arms.

"I made you cry, didn't I?" he asked as he pulled away slightly, enough for him to be able to look in your eyes as he placed his hands on your cheeks.

"It wasn't you. I was emotional, because I wasn't sure how long I would be able to stay beside you as a friend before it became too much to handle," you giggled awkwardly, feeling as if you have said too much.

"It was still my fault. I didn't consider your feelings," he shook his head, disapproving of his own actions. The tip of his thumb gently brushed across your bottom lip, leaving you with a ticklish feeling. "Have you been biting your lips again?" he asked as his eyes focused on your mouth. His attentiveness, his attention to detail and his closeness made you swallow nervously.

"I might have," you whispered, not daring to raise your voice any louder. Feeling his breath on your lips, the proximity between your faces, his warm palms on your cheeks made you feel intoxicated.

"You shouldn't do that. From now on talk to me when something bothers you," he spoke in a low tone, his voice soothing, making you feel safe. "You are doing it again," he chuckled, his eyes completely captured by the way your teeth bit on your lip, but this time it wasn't nervousness, but excitement. His closeness affected every tiny part of your body. "It really makes me want to kiss you," he breathed, completely mesmerised by your lips, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. You felt your heart beating at a dangerous pace, almost as if threatening to escape your chest and you could swear Benedict heard it just as well.

"Hmm," you hummed in a reply, incapable of creating a coherent sentence, before closing the gap between the two of you, a certain confidence rush taking over your actions. Instead of the surprised reaction you expected from Benedict, a playful chuckle left his lungs.

"Impatient, it seems," he added, before he returned your kiss, pulling you closer to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body in his embrace. He has imagined over and over again how it could feel to kiss you, to hold you, but none of those made-up scenarios could ever compete against the reality and the content it filled him with. "I wish to genuinely court you this time," he added as he pulled away from you.

"I very much hope so," you giggled happily, earning a playful eye roll from Benedict, before he captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms around you securely.

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[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[lifeofkaze]

Happy FFWF! 🧡 You know what I’m going to ask you…

Each of your OCs has a story with an overarching theme. What are these themes, and how did they develop with the characters and their stories?

And you know this question is the sole reason I'm actually playing this week 💛 So let's go:

Selene: There's many things going on with Selene but if you break it down, her theme is about the struggle between the responsibility we have to take for others vs. the wish and need to be our own persons and live out or freedom.

Caro: Everything about Caro is about the definition of beauty and her changing perception of it as she grows up. The theme kind of was always there and evolved into different aspects over time, with Brady as an artist showing her the beauty beyond the bare practical use of things, to her sister being scarred for life, to her issues with her own self-worth.

Henry: Henry's story deals with all of our bane, the impostor syndrome. With his gift for sensing the stories in the world surrounding him, he develops a fear of forgetting any of them and also being forgotten yet he never fully believes he is capable of telling his own story. Much of this as well as his unhappy love story came to me in a rush of angst where Henry spilled his heart to me, lol.

Caitlin: Caitlin suffers a lot by Selene not telling her the truth about her father and it’s the main reason for the troubled relationship with her mother. She is all about finding her roots and learning that only because someone is different and has different values it doesn’t mean that they’re a bad person. This was her concept all along but she was never meant to be more than a link in the family tree so her story was greatly expanded.

Lizzie: As my main girl, Lizzie has the most big fics and thus the most themes going on. But one thing that pops up in all of them is the theme of making mistakes, and that making mistakes is human and okay as long as you learn from them. The road to happiness is never straight, after all (thank you for the contribution, Orion 🙄). She is the OC who has developed the most and least out of all of them alongside these themes because she made the jump from self-insert to OC but from then on (aside from her plot line in Source of Balance) most of her story was set very early on.

Ava: It’s hard to talk about Ava without spoiling her story, but the main theme with her is forgiveness and learning to forgive - others as well as herself. Same as Lizzie, this was her theme from the very beginning.

Mina: Mina is one of my more realistic and relatable OCs, I think. For her story she had to learn how to grow out of her comfort zone and face the more bitter parts of life to come out on top. She was originally meant to focus more on overcoming her phobia of reptiles but it turned into her current theme pretty early on.

Dana: Dana’s main struggle is the idea modern society has of how a young, independent woman should be. She knows it’s a privileged to be able to do what you love for a living, but deep in her heart she also feels that this is not what is fulfilling her and she wishes for a more traditional life. This is something about her I realised only very recently. I didn’t want to give her the angst but she literally begged me for it.

Dylan: Dylan is all about the (realistic) miscommunication between men and women. As funny as it sounds, especially when there are actual problems involved, his stoic approach can often come across as cold or him not caring and he has to learn to take people expressing their emotions more intensely than him seriously. This concept developed alongside Dana’s angst fest, naturally.

Reva: Reva pushed her theme on me with all her power and it took me a while to understand what she wanted from me. Interestingly enough, her concept is the one who translated from concept to the actual writing process. Only when I let her out of her old ship and my plans for her and let her discover her own self and her self-love was she ready to truly let people in and love someone else.

[gedankenspaziergang]

Diversmagazin Interview  Translation

Diversmagazin released an interview with director Sarah Blaßkiewitz and Head-Writer Jasmina Wesolowski today. Read it here in German.

Jasmina (she/her), DRUCK writer since season four and head writer since season six together with Jonas Lindt. In a writers Room with Paulina Lorenz and Raquel Kishori Dukpa (Jünglinge)

Sarah (she/her) director of the last four episodes from season six

I’m leaving out the general introductory questions.

Alicia: Can you talk about the writing process? And what’s the most important thing for you while writing and telling stories?

Jasmina: We especially wanted the profound exchange with young adults who represent our protagonists. For season six we had the challenge that we wanted to tell the lovestory of a Gambian-German girl and a Vietnamese-German girl, perspectives that aren’t represented in the writer’s room. That’s why we talked a lot to research partners, to make up for our lack of knowledge/ experience, but we also talked to the actors and actresses.

Alicia: Why do different directors work on DRUCK?

Sarah: We try to produce as much in real-time as possible. And of course, we have to pre-produce but still have to work [overlappingly]. While one director is already in the editing phase, the next one already starts to shoot. Another reason is of course, that this way, also in the writer’s room, there’s more space for diversity.

 Alicia: It’s similar to the writer’s room. You’re also dividing the writing of scenes between different people. … Are you working together with racism and LGBTQIA+ experts?

Jasmina: I think we all have blind spots and that it’s absolutely impossible to end up with a perfect result. It was an important first step, that the Jünglinge collective joined. They are big advocates for queer BIPoc representation in German media. They were always present for feedback loops and made all of us, crew, actors and actresses, participate in an anti-racism workshop. We were lucky to have the brilliant author and anti-racism trainer Arpana Berndt, who advised us on these topics. On top of that, we did a lot of research on different topics. I think now it should be the only way to produce movies and shows this way, with an intensive research phase. This way you don’t appropriate the stories of others and also don’t tell inauthentic stories or, in the worst case, use hurtful clichés/stereotypes. It was helpful and needed that Black perspectives were present also behind the camera – Sara as a director, but also in the social media team, make-up department or costume design. But we are also aware that more can be done.

Sarah: It’s important to me to highlight the make-up and costume design department. When I, an afro-German person, joined this project and met other afro-German women in those departments, who can relate to me, the character of Fatou and Ava, I was really glad. I can say from many years of experience that that’s not a given.

 Alicia: How about experts on LGBTQIA+ issues?

Jasmina: To talk a bit about the process: We were set on Fatou being a lesbian pretty early on, and that was already discussed in the earlier writer’s room, where that perspective wasn’t present yet. In the beginning, those were loose ideas, and we had to implement them with the casting. The casting team Raquel Kishori Dupka, Melek Yaparak and Angelika Buschina worked closely with the directors and contacted different institutions and specifically asked for actors and actresses who could be queer. At this age this is of course a super sensitive topic. You don’t want to force young people to [define themselves/come out]. It’s a huge challenge to handle that with care and it was extremely important that the Jünglinge collective was part of the casting process.

But also, apart from the casting process, we profited a lot from the queer people in the writer’s room in the cast.

Sarah: For my part I asked the authors and queer people “What would you like? What is nice? What hurts? What’s important? Or what have I never seen before?” And then I put those different experiences into the different scenes. On top you of course need common sense (?) to portray something that you haven’t experienced yourself.

 Jasmin: I just thought of a small really beautiful example: How Fatou was given these rainbow socks as a Christmas present. You immediately notice, that was the idea of a queer person who knows what non-queer parents give to their kids as gifts. The fans notice: Queer people were in the writer’s room. Or “Ah, these actresses know, what they’re doing.“ And those are the small things that make a difference.

 Alicia: For sure! In DRUCK you notice that queer people were part of this in really subtle ways, and that [resulted] in really nice fan-moments. I can confirm that.

Right now, the community is discussing the conflict between Mailin and Ava a lot. What role does that conflict play for you and what does it teach us?

 Sarah: I’m editing the last episodes right now, so I really feel it, also because you already see the reactions online.

For me, the conflict is important because it shows over a long period of time, that not everything is always only good or only bad. That it takes a lot of time, patience and confrontation to understand all nuances of that kind of conflict.

That Ava could be prevented to outright say what’s bothering her, because we’re talking about a really serious trauma of exclusion. How do you even tell people really personal stuff when you were bullied for years? And now we have that conflict, that seemingly takes forever, and you’re always asking yourself: “Why aren’t they talking to each other?” But it’s only in real time that you realize how hurtful this conflict is. How hurtful it is what they experience. What racism means, and also what it means to [deal] with that topic as a white  German girl. And I think it’s really important that everyone is going through that with this season. That takes time and sometimes hurts. And you don’t always understand Ava and you don’t always understand Mailin. When we really [dedicate ourselves to understand this conflict] then I think, we can experience what for example a person like me experienced their whole adolescence. I’m not saying I was bullied my whole adolescence, and maybe it wasn’t because of the color of my skin, but because of something else. But that went on for half a year. After being bullied in school for half a year you’re not up for school and your classmates anymore. And you don’t talk to them anymore. And if people realize that because of this season then I’m glad. I think it’s really touching that this conflict takes up so much space.

 Jasmina: I found it really interesting what you said about the nuances, because it was a real process for me to learn how many facets this conflict has. And especially that us white people, who grow up in a society with structural racism, have a particular idea about what racism means. And that’s not a detailed and uncritical perspective of that topic: As soon as you call me racist, I feel attacked and start defending myself.

The role that this conflict played for us was to show how incredibly exhausting it is as a Person of Color, to always have to deal with these problems and that there’s a kind of fatigue, that you don’t want to talk (or should want to talk) about certain topics anymore, especially if you have other things going on in your life on top of it.

On the other hand, we have Mailin, who has a strong desire to understand. She’s not aware of her privileges as a white girl. We want to take this journey together, when she starts to realize things and when she goes through different stages; until she understands, what it is really about. We also have an arc there that isn’t finished. Because in real life, you have to deal with some topics over and over again. We think it’s especially important to show that it’s not the job of Black people to explain racism to their white  friends. By now, they have all the resources to educate themselves and to talk with other white people about this topic, to unburden Black people.

 Alicia: That’s really interesting! The lovestory of Kieu My and Fatou is an important part of season six, which many queer young adults love. How is the relationship between Fatou and Kieu My representative for a generation?

Sarah: I can actually also see it in an older generation. When I send the cuddle clip of Kieu My and Fatou to my grandpa, he says “Wow, how amazing that a Viet-German and a Afro-German girl are lying in bed together, talk in German and are in a relationship.” This generation hopefully isn’t alone anymore, for example in the sense of: being the only Afro-German person in a small city. That changed and now we see it in that second and third generation. And that’s why it shows me something very real and beautiful.

 Alicia: Which scene are you really proud of and why?

Sarah: My favorite scene, and one I’m really proud of and that was really important concerning the pressure of school, was with the main character Fatou. It’s about a path of finding yourself from Fatou and a [Reinigungsmoment] with her brother. Two people, who know each other from the moment of their birth, are sitting together. When I read that scene I thought yes, I can relate, I can feel that, and when we shot that, a world opened for me. And that was partly because of the music, which was decided before we shot this scene. Then we shot it and it was fucking cold, but we shot it again and again but every time we really felt it like the first time. And when I now watch that scene while editing, it really is the perfect moment. Every facial expression is perfect, every reaction. And that’s that kind of truthful (?) moment you’re looking for as an actor, actress, director or author. When everything fits.

 (There’s a script for every social media part, What’s App Chats and ideas for social media stories. )

 Alicia: When can we expect the next season and what will it be about?

Jasmina: For now, DRUCK is finished and we have to wait how it will continue. Fingers are crossed and of course we’re hoping for a new season.

[Note by me: We‘re not gonna spiral, Jünglinge looked for more writers, Black writers, on facebook a while ago. Nothing is safe but they probably don’t want to make any promises]