#he posts blurry photos of the inside of the store to Instagram

[grimandghoulish]

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[ivorysoapshavings]

Matching (Kenma x reader)

You were up late overthinking about life when you came to the conclusion that dying your hair would solve your problems (or at least cover them up). You grab your keys and head out the door to grab what you needed for this midnight adventure

You were practically buzzing as you stepped out of your car and into the Drugstore parking lot. You’re nervous and exited energy mixing together creating this weir anticipation. ‘Should I actually do this, this is probably a disastrous idea,” you worried to yourself. Just as soon as the wave of doubt came it vanished “no,” you muttered to yourself “you want this you will have it, it will look great,” Without another doubt you waltzed straight into your local drugstore, heading straight for the hair isle. One you were there you grabbed bleach for your hair, a box of bright almost highlighter orange hair die, some gloves, and an applicator. You quickly paid for your items and left the store way too excited for this. But a realization dawned on you as you sat down in your car ready to drive back home ‘I have no idea how the fuck I am supposed to go about doing this.’ the most you have ever done with your hair is style it; also those videos of peoples hair falling out because they did something wrong kind of terrified you.

You sat in your car for a good thirty minutes contemplating how you should do this, if you should do this. Those fears of people hating it, having to shave your head, people staring at you almost made you want to throw the dye away and never think about it again. ‘I’ll just call Kenma and see what he thinks’ you thought to yourself

“Oh my god, Kenma!” you shouted face palming “I’m an idiot,” you grabbed your phone to text Kenma,

You: b there in 5 b ready😼😽

Ken🕺🕺: u in trouble or 3am impulsive decision

You: 3am impulsive decision that's going to get me in trouble

Ken🕺🕺: k doors unlocked

You put your phone down and go to start your car all the nervous energy now gone replaced with excitement.

You hop out of your car almost forgetting to grab the bag with the dye and make your way into the apartment building, taking the all to familiar path to Kenmas apartment. After taking a few flights of stairs you reached his door. Quickly you went inside eager to get started. You went straight to his office turned gaming/streaming room knowing thats where he would be. You opened the door to him surprisingly streaming.

“I thought you didn’t stream past 2am,” you said confused

“Well hello to you too,” he said sarcastically pausing his game to face you, “and I couldn't sleep and I was bored,”

“Cool mind if I join,” you tossed the bag full of dye in Kenmas direction and turned to pull up a chair to sit next to him. You heard a small chuckle as he searched the bag you tossed at him.

“Not at all, all though your text makes sense now,” he looked at you smirking as you placed your chair next to him. You just smiled and faced his monitors, one with raft pulled up and the other with chat and all the stream settings.

You waved “hey guys I’m back interrupting stream again,”

Kenma chuckled “ for those that are new here this is (y/n), my frie-,”

“Favorite bestest friend ever,” you interrupted proudly

“Acquaintance,” he finished.

You turned and pouted at him, “mean”

“Anyways,” he turned back to his stream “we are having an unplanned break from the game, because this thing,” he gestured at me, “Is incapable of dying their hair and wants me to do it.” you stuck your tongue out at him and her returned the gesture. He grabbed the bag again laying everything out on the table. He picked up the bleach you got and made a disgusted face and tossed it back into the shopping bag.

“We’re using my bleach, that shit you got’ll destroy your hair,” he said getting up and leaving the room. ‘Thank God I didn’t decide to do this myself’ you mentaly sighed. Kenma came back caring the bleach, a bowl to put it in, and a towel to protect my clothes. He walked behind me and layed the towel around my neck.

“That towel looks like its been through hell and back,” you said, it was frayed and torn with lightened areas where you could tell bleach had been spilled with some color splotches here and there.

“Still works so I’ll still use it,” Kenma shrugged putting gloves on getting ready to start the dying process. He put some bleach in a bowl and instructed me to lean my head back, then started applying the bleach. ‘To late to turn back now’ you said to yourself.

After applying all the bleach Kenma sat back down taking his gloves off and setting a timer. For the duration of the timer you just sat together and answered questions that popped up in chat and argued over who is the best mario cart character which is of course shy guy. But Kenma would not have that. After the timer had finished you went to go rinse the bleach out. Once you had gone and washed the bleach out and towel dried your hair it was time to put in the actual color. While waiting for the color you guys decided to play Mario cart to prove which character was the best, after a coupe of rounds it was nearing the end of stream so you decided to raise the stakes.

“Hey Kenma,” you sung

“Yes?” he replied knowing you had something planed

“If I win this round you have to dye your hair orange too, if you win I’ll take you to get that new game you wanted,” he grew a devilish grin on his face

“You're gonna regret doing this,”

You won. So a couple hours later it was around 4 am and you both had annoyingly orange hair. Kenma had ended stream saying he would post a picture of his hair on instagram, so now you guys were just lounging on Kenmas sofa.

“I still have no fucking clue how you won that,” kenma sulked

“Because shy guy is superior,” you retorted. Kenma gave you a glare that would have looked way worse if not for his bright fluffy orange hair. “OH,” you shouted with a sudden idea “we need to show this to Shouyou,” Kenma suddenly lit up from his sulky mood

“For once you’re right about something,” you just sighed and opened the snapchat app on your phone. You guys snapped a photo and sent it to Shouyou with the caption ��triplets’. Shouyou responded so fast he could probably be a world record holder. It was a blurry picture of his face with the caption ‘OMG OMG OMG I’M COMING OVER RIGHT NOW WE NEED TO TAKE PICTURES TOGETHER’

You and Kenma never ended up sleeping instead taking pictures together with all three of you and posting them all over social media per Shouyous request.

[chilling-seavey]

Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied (c.s.) - Chapter Four

A/N Oh, hey! We’re back with this story. Thanks for being patient with me while I focused on Amoureux! Now let’s give Christian the spotlight he deserves with NR/ED <3

Quitting his job at the gym was the best thing Christian had done in a while and he felt as light as air when he stepped back out onto the street in the LA sun. It was barely noon as he paid the parking meter and hopped back in the car to head to the first of many official meetings for the film.

Christian was the first of their hired actors, so he was ahead of the game while auditions for the other roles were still ongoing. That day in particular was measurements for costume design. The studio was already set up with plentiful mirrors and measurements and fabrics and sketches, not a clear surface in sight. The open manuscript was laid out on top of everything, certain descriptions highlighted for details.

Christian set his bag on the floor by the door as he was greeted by a rush of people, Michelle among them. She passed him a cup of coffee and he thanked her with a smile as he was led towards a little pedestal to start measurements right away.

“The Costume Designers don’t mess around.” Michelle chuckled at his surprised expression, standing near by, still out of the way of the job being done.

“Apparently.” Christian replied, letting the various people wrap tape measures around various parts of his body.

“How was your morning?” Michelle asked.

“My morning has been great actually. Quit my job at the gym. Which is exciting.”

“Oo, we love that. A man with a full-time job now.” she complimented.

“Thanks to you.” Christian smiled at her.

“Stop moving!” one of the older ladies snapped, making the two young adults smother their awkward laughter into their drinks.

He watched them work through the mirror, letting them poke and prod away with their measuring tapes. Soon, Christian was sketched out perfectly onto a sheet of paper, his measurements down to the 1/8th of an inch and he was free to step down from the pedestal. One of the designers splayed out the costume sketches over one of the tables to show them what they had planned.

The uniforms were drawn to the best historical realism, down to the patches on the sleeves and the buttons on the collar. They were to be made with only the best material and fabric, the film budget allowing for plentiful amount of breathing room to perfect the historical accuracies. Christian was more than excited to be able to actually put on the jacket he was staring at in pencil lines, the girl next to him bouncing on her toes with her own excitement as she started to see her story being pieced together into reality bit by bit.

After everything was cleared up with the costume designers and they were left to start working, Christian and Michelle left the building together, talking excitedly about what the uniforms were going to look like.

“Hey.” Michelle stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, making Christian stop and turn back to her. “I have something for you.”

“What’s that?” Christian asked cautiously.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a white envelope with his name on the front. She held it out to him.

He narrowed his eyes at her with curiosity as he took it and opened it, pulling out a cheque. His eyes went wide as he read the official signature of the company and the amount of $1000.

“It’s not much because it’s only the first cheque but it’s enough to get you started throughout fittings and things. I told David I wanted to give it to you myself just to see the look on your face.” Michelle chuckled at his saucer wide eyes and gaped open mouth as he started down at the piece of paper in his hand, “It was worth it.”

“This is my $1000?” Christian looked back up at her in awe.

“Yeah!” Michelle laughed. “Wanna go to the mall and blow it in one go?”

“Yes!” Christian high fived her and they got in the Tesla to drive farther into downtown to the Grove. They rolled down the windows and Christian connected his phone to the Bluetooth to play only the best music as loud as the car would allow. He was more than relieved that Michelle knew most of the songs that played, and they sang a bit too off-key together on their way to the mall.

They stopped for lunch first, talking over their take-out plates of Panda Express in the loud food court, planning what stores they were ready to blow their money at. With a fresh $1000 deposited in his bank account, Christian barely knew where to start but they popped into store after store, trying on the most ridiculous outfits and most expensive pieces, but they eventually came out with many bags on their arms and a nearly drained bank account.

“Now this is the LA life I had been waiting for.” Michelle grinned as they walked back to the car in the May heat, past palm trees and sports cars, dripping with spent money on their arms and already wearing their favourite outfit of they many they purchased.

“Me too.” Christian unlocked the Tesla and they packed their bags in the back seat.

“You know what’s missing though?” Michelle asked over the roof on the other side of the car.

“What’s that?”

“Instagram pictures.” she looked at him with a smirk over the top of her sunglasses.

“I think we’re gonna get along just fine.” Christian beamed.

They drove down to Rodeo Drive for those iconic LA glamour shots and walked down the street to find the perfect locations. Christian prided himself on his Instagram photo taking skills – even if his friends never gave him photo credit when they posted – and that day was no different, taking plenty for Michelle and she returned the favour. It helped that he was so natural in front of the camera, working all his angles like it was second nature. They swiped through the pictures together and laughed at the ones that turned out blurry on their way back to the car as the sun set, nearly tripping over each other with how close they walked. Michelle took the job of car DJ on their drive to her apartment and she didn’t have a problem making a fool of herself doing dances to TikTok songs in the passenger seat that made Christian laugh with second-hand embarrassment.

He dropped her off at her apartment and she sang the rest of the song out loud to herself as she gathered her bags even though the music was stopped and her phone was back in her pocket. Christian rolled down his window as she walked around the car.

“It was a fun day, Mr. Seavey.” she held out her hand to him and he took her handshake.

“Wouldn’t want to blow my first paycheque with anyone else.” Christian grinned.

“I’ll see you.” Michelle grinned before heading into her apartment building. Christian waited until she was safely inside before leaving, turning onto the main street to head home, unable to wipe the grin from his face the whole drive back.

[jksangelic]

peaches & piercings | two (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: light sexual themes, explicit language, hurt/comfort

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: second part! this doesn’t contain any smut, unfortunately. just some closure for those who come for plot. enjoy.

↳ words: 8.4k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

Nothing but heavy breathing. Too much saliva. Did this girl even know how to properly kiss? Nonetheless, he was hard.

How the fuck did I get here, he ponders, feeling nothing but lusty guilt and, possibly, bile in the back of his throat.

“You’re so hot,” Jennie drawls between kisses, fiddling drunkenly with Jimin’s zipper and whining when the damn thing wouldn’t budge. She resorts to palming his bulge over his black ripped jeans.

“Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging himself into her small hand and groping her breasts. He’s been with enough girls to tell that her bra was incredibly padded. The party raged downstairs, screams and laughter vibrating the entire frat house. American parties were crazy, Jimin thought.

He also thought he was done with this, done being some gross playboy that entitled himself inside any girl he laid eyes on, but he was fucking scared. You scared the living daylights out of him. So he’s doing what he knows best.

The girl was already stripped down to her underwear within the first minute, not really into the whole “build-up” that he normally enjoyed. When he busied himself with planting kisses along her collarbones, she complains, yet again, when he doesn’t get on with it.

He rolls his eyes, undoing the damn zipper himself and pulling down his boxers enough for her to access. She gasps, surprised.

“You’re Korean? I’m surprised you’re this big. I didn’t believe the other girls when they told me.” She talks so damn much, Jimin might implode. Rather, he just grows soft from the backhanded compliment.

This was his first night out since seeing you last, have been avoiding you for a few days to try to find some sort of explanation behind his jumbled thoughts. It, however, wasn’t his first night out since he had discovered he was hopelessly in love with you, hiding his denial by hooking up with whoever was prettiest at frat row parties. He was disgusted with himself.

Before he knows it, he’s tucking himself back in and leaving an angered Jennie and searching for Yoongi to drive him back home. Jimin was way too intoxicated to be around girls that want to use him for the sake of bragging rights. You were right, it really was like everyone kept tabs on who got to fuck who and the points they received for such encounters. He scrunches his nose in disgust.

He moves clumsily, nearly tumbling down the stairs and getting lost in the sea of bodies that danced on the first floor. God, he could hear colors. He even bumps into some classmate (wearing a hoodie at that, poor girl must’ve been baking), tiny voice asking if he’s okay and he just throws up a thumb and continues his search. At some point, he finds Yoongi man-spread on the couch, sleepily cooing into some girl’s ear as they giggle like they care what he’s saying.

“Yoongs,” Jimin slurs, “home. Please.” He doesn’t remember if he makes a face of friendly obedience or a face of you-just-cockblocked-me-bro but he gets up anyway and checks for his keys for at least two minutes before finding them on a lanyard around his neck. Even Yoongi is too drunk to drive but he doesn’t really care about their own safety at this point. Harsh reality of college.

Eventually, both of them stumble into their apartment around 2 in the morning, Yoongi raiding the pantry for something to calm his munchies and Jimin rinsing his face with cold water next to him. He felt the sudden need to wash off whatever filth Jennie left on him.

His roommate must’ve read his mind, nudging his shoulder and slurring a, “I’m surprised you didn’t fuck Jennie or bring her back with you. She was sexy as hell.”

“How did you know I didn’t have sex with her when I was there?”

“Dude, I can just tell. You don’t look like you had a recent orgasm, you look like you ate a bad quesadilla.” Yoongi laughs at his own joke like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

Jimin shrugs, not really feeling an explanation. Instead, he locates his phone he left on the counter before going to the party and turns it on, scrolling through a couple Instagram notifications and 2 new messages from you. He hadn’t been answering any, but he was happy you still cared in his own messed up way.

He smirks at them, imagining how much better his night could’ve gone if you had been with him instead of stupid Jessica. Or Jennie. Or something.

“Ooh,” Yoongi teases, stealing his phone and uninvitingly reading through the message thread, “you’re still talking to this girl? The cheerleader? That’s hilarious, dude, she’s so not your type.”

Jimin laughs nervously, colliding with Yoongi and reaching out for his phone, “C’mon, Hyung. Give it back. She’s hot.” Calling you “hot” didn’t sit right on his tongue, but he ignored it. Yoongi continues being a dick, waving his phone in Jimin’s face then swiping it away when he attempts to take it back.

“Can’t get enough of her, huh? Does she just have Class A pussy? Shit, think you’d let me have a go?”

Jimin’s blood boils, shoving Yoongi into the nearby wall with more force than intended and confiscating the phone, shuffling it into his back pocket before grabbing his collar and trapping him. He looks maniacal, nose flaring and eyes bloodshot.

“Talk about her like that and I’ll break your skinny ass legs, Hyung. Don’t fucking touch her.”

Yoongi just smiles, throwing up hands as a white flag. He was older than Jimin, sure, but he knew his place when it came to physical advantage. When Jimin lets him go, Yoongi takes out his pack of cigs, placing one between his lips and offering a cooling Jimin one as peace offering.

Although he doesn’t want to, he takes it and storms into his room.

What the actual hell is he doing. He shouldn’t be out partying of all things, he should grow the fuck up and confront you. Just accept what you were willing to give him and live happily, wholeheartedly.

That’s it. Tomorrow, he would sober the fuck up and tell you.

He flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling and foggy memory reminding him of when he was under yours, the first day he took initiative to change something. He pulls his phone out, reading over your messages silently and smiling whenever he skimmed over one of your purposefully-unattractive-but-still-attractive selfies. He always saved every single one of them.

It leads to scrolling through his small photo gallery, a couple of blurry photos from tonight his most recent, a few of those saved selfies before them, and that one video. Thumb hovering over, it forces him to play it.

It starts with giggling—his own, before the shaky camera focuses on a body behind the front counter of a record store that he happened to pass by. Some American song he’s never listened to blares overhead, a very excited and very loud singing you swaying your hips to the music. At some point, you even used a rolled up poster as your mic and hit every sour note there was. Jimin in the video laughs again, and the video shortly ends after your eyes widen in horror and connect with his phone.

He plays it two, no, three more times before he’s content and completely simmering in adoration for you. Somehow remembering to discard his pants and shut off the light, he decides to browse through his Snapchat briefly before turning in for the night. He saves your story for last, preparing himself for whatever uniform mirror pic you took (although, he secretly loved that bright ass uniform).

You posted four hours ago, grainy photo depicting you and a friend with red solo cups near your faces and white, toothy smiles shining brightly. For some odd reason, you’re wearing one of your gray cheer hoodies despite the warmth, hood barely revealing your right eye in the photo.

Jimin practically chokes, shooting up from his bed and trying so damn hard to recollect his memories before leaving the party.

“Fucking hell. Fuckfuckfuck.”

He didn’t just bump into some “classmate” wearing a hoodie, he bumped into you.

Three days. Three, unfulfilling, dreadful, and, quite expected, days since you were at Jimin’s. You patiently waited, gathering up every cell in your body and lecturing them to persevere and not force yourself back to his home in an angered blob of psychotic mess.

You went to class, you came back to your room, slept, went to cheer, and slept more. All in that order. You’d hope you would run into him at class and at least read his face, see what kind of state he was in and gather enough intel to come to some sort of conclusion—it was the uncertainty that made you nervous—but he never showed up. In your eyes, it was a simple yes or no, but it would also be wrong of you to rush a mental argument that wasn’t your own.

It worried you even more that he was skipping class because of it. Although he might not look it, he was very much into his studies and wouldn’t just play hooky out of nowhere. Which then made you wonder if there was something else that was bothering him, completely irrelevant to your own situation. Which then made you ballistic.

Maybe you were overthinking this. Maybe everything was fine and he truly just did need some time to himself and who were you to judge him for making a clear, healthy decision?

You slick your slightly sweaty hair into some abomination of a ponytail, having just gotten out of mandatory conditioning and exhausted beyond belief. It was barely reaching eight in the evening but the California sun was already set, majority of the day warmth creeping out and being replaced with a satisfying breeze.

The door squeals, Sara giving you a sympathetic smile on her way in. She knew the gist of what was going on, and you thanked the roommate process for giving you such an understanding gal that kept her “told you so” urges at bay.

“How you holding up? Did you go to cheer?” She lugs her backpack, which seems heavier than normal, upon her bed.

You shrug, “I went to cheer. I’ll probably just turn in soon.”

“That’s the thing,” she starts, unveiling a large bottle of Ciroc from her bag, “I think you should reconsider your plans for tonight.” Sighing audibly, you start to climb into bed to show your reluctance.

“Look, Sara, it’s really nice of you to—”

“No, Y/N, listen. You’ve been sitting around moping because of him and if he’s going to make you wait for his own goddamn approval then you can at least have some fun in the meantime. I even bought this extremely special bottle of vodka so we don’t have to drink cheap shit at Alpha Sig’s and—”

“You’re seriously trying to drag me to a party? Sara, I’m really not in the mood to be around drunk people and I haven’t even showered and what if Jimin texts me and I just don’t know,” you trail on and on, biting your nails out of habit and shoulders hanging in defeat.

“Hey,” your roommate coos, “don’t be such a worrywart.” She takes authority to untangle your hair from its hair-tie, smoothing it out with her own brush and braiding a random strand on the thicker side of your part line. Warning you prior, she sprits your face with some makeup-guru refresher spray and hands you her Chapstick.

“You look pretty, literally all the time. You don’t even have to change since it’s just a random party. Wear your stinky cheer hoodie and your spandex and throw on your sneakers and,” she pauses to unscrew the lid to the Ciroc, “take a swig of this and we’ll just go for a couple hours.”

Deep down, you knew she was right. You were obsessing to a whole new level and just needed to chill out. That, and you did owe her some obedience after disregarding her last warning. You brought the glass to your lips, burn barely stinging down your throat from practice (and high quality vodka) and waiting patiently as Sara touches up her own makeup. She even throws on a ratty t-shirt, presumably to make you feel better and you wanted to cry from how good of a friend she turned out to be.

“Ready?” she peeps, packing the bottle, her phone, and her wallet back into her bag.

You hesitate; what if Jimin really was going to call you tonight?

So what if he did? You can’t wait around like his dog, at his beck and call only when he deems it “time”. To hell with that, you were still your own person and if worse comes to worse, you’d get back to him when you’re free.

“Ready.”

You’re fuzzy by the time you get to the Alpha Sigma house, Sara dedicating her night as DD and stopping you after another two shots in the car. You’re both flurried with greetings all the way to the kitchen, some faces you even recognize from cheer and you laugh at the irony of it all. Even Suzy was here, slinging her arm around your shoulders and sloshing some of her beer onto your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry. I think I filled this cup way too much. Wanna half it with me? ‘S just beer,” she giggles, dumping half of it somewhat messily into another solo cup and handing it to you before you can even nod.

“Are you ‘kay? By the way? Seem sad at practice,” Suzy pouts, sipping on the beer and scrunching her nose from its bitter taste.

You snort, “I’m fine. Just some boy problems, I guess. I don’t really know if this guy likes me or not? I mean, he does, but I don’t know. I’m rambling,” you awkwardly laugh. Suzy doesn’t mind one bit, hanging onto every incoherent word with a look of suspicion.

“Y/N, everyone likes you! You just need to bite back, you know? Guys don’t like apples they can pick from the ground, they like the ones in the trees!”

“… Wait, what?”

“I think she means that if you make him work for you, he’ll be more interested than someone who’s just pining after him,” Sara translates, obviously very entertained by two drunk girls trying to solve a problem.

“Yeah! That’s what I said,” Suzy pouts, “Anyway, gimme your phone!”

You don’t know why but you do. Why are you always giving people your phone without asking why they need it first? She goes straight for Snapchat, reaching the phone around your face again and posing with her beer; you do the same, replacing most of your face with your cup.

“No,” she whines, “you have to show how pretty you look and how much fun you’re having so he gets interested in what you’re doing.” You try again, cup below your lips as you flash a bright smile, one that reaches your eyes. In the midst of it all, the camera shutters and you and Suzy study it.

Perhaps it was from the drinks, but you glow in the picture with a reddened nose and your hoodie covering one of your eyes, the motion in the shot giving it character. You looked like the epitome of fun.

“This one’s perfect,” Suzy says, typing in a flurry of horrendous emojis as the caption and sending it to your story. “You’ll hear from him in no time,” she assures.

The rest of the night goes as planned, beer pong and dancing and holding Suzy’s hair as she dry heaves into the toilet but going for another round when nothing comes up. You feel relieved for the first time this week, actually.

Eventually, you lose Sara in the crowd so you venture around by yourself, talking to a few acquainted faces and finally settling in a corner of the living room for a quick breather. Pulling out your phone, a flash of mint crosses the horizon and a sense of familiarity piques your interest. Locking eyes on the source, you find Yoongi sitting on the couch opposite of you, completely absorbed in a conversation with some petite girl with various piercings sprawled on his lap. Your stomach clenches.

If Yoongi was here, there was a large chance Jimin was, right? Instead of asking him, you scramble to get as far away from his presence as possible, tripping over chairs and a coffee table and rugs until you round a corner as quickly as possible and—

“Ah,” a voice grunts, thumping back into the nearby wall from the collision.

“I-I’m sorry, are you okay?” you mumble, pulling your hoodie back on for safety and making eye contact with the man’s open fly. He just throws up a thumbs-up as response, far too drunk to pull together a sentence, let alone an apology.

You realize, now, that this man wears all-black, smelling of cigarette smoke and a little of women’s perfume, and your heart plunges when you see Jimin’s profile as he maneuvers his way past you.

You worried for days on end about him, and he was just partying? Was he fucking joking? He didn’t even recognize you, he was so plastered.

Slumping your back against the same wall, your brain is surprisingly calmer than you expect. You couldn’t judge him when you were at the same party, he probably needed to let loose too.

“Jennie! Where the hell did you go? I’ve been lookin’ for you for, like, twenty minutes!”

Suddenly sensitive to the overall volume of the party and obnoxious girls, you start to turn to find Sara.

“Chill out, Em. Was trying out that new transfer student for a ride,” her saccharine voice purrs. You whip your head in horror.

“He was fun, sure as hell lived up to the expectations,” she continues.

“No shit, you were with Park Jimin?” her friend, supposedly Em, squeals.

You don’t hear Jennie’s answer, tears stinging hot down your cheeks and legs wobbly as you search the downstairs for Sara. She takes you home without asking what happened.

It was a lot better than you thought it was going to be.

The pain, you mean. And the small dosage of utter humiliation that followed the next day. It wasn’t even that big of a deal once you thought about the Grand Scheme of Things; you got rejected, in a shitty way sure, but it was just a rejection. You knew that eventually you would move on once your classes switched and you would hear about Jimin way less and you’d find someone else to focus your attention on and all would be numb and forgotten.

Sara prodded for an explanation, knowing there was some sort of trigger to cause you to sob on her shoulder in drunken defeat and tearing her away from the party before it was even close to being over. For majority of her questions, you dodged them entirely and instead apologized for the nuisance you caused her. And in all honesty, you weren’t quite sure if you could handle trying to break down and reimagine the events that occurred that night. It would be agonizing.

But it was a lot better than you thought it was going to be.

She left you after a while, having her own life to deal with and albeit, school. Today left a great opportunity for you to catch up on some studying for midterms, contemplating popping (a healthy intake of) Adderall but forcing yourself to focus by your own will. You got a lot finished, feeling refreshed and fully capable by 5PM.

Then you got antsy. For once, cheer wasn’t on the schedule and as much as you should rejoice in your occasional freedom, you feel the need to run. Drain the excess stress and energy you have by a quick pop-in at the gym.

Deciding for it, you jump out of bed and aggressively chuck on your sneakers—the same ones you wore last night. Hell, you didn’t even change from last night, wearing the same hoodie and shorts that you had worn to cheer yesterday. You were absolutely disgusting.

You leave everything but your keys, deciding you didn’t want any distractions or had a need to bring anything else because all you could think about was to runrunrun. You even run down the hallways, zipping down the stairs and bursting through the doors like some sort of madwoman. Stopping a few feet outside, it’s the first time you’ve really looked, nonetheless been, outside today. It surprises you more than anything that it’s raining of all things, droplets big and heavy and creating dark spots on your grey sweatshirt.

“Tough luck in sunny-ass California, eh?” you ask yourself. It wasn’t as rare of an occurrence in the northern half, but the irony of it all really put a damper on things. You abruptly realize that you stand in it for quite some time, letting the fat drops soak your shoulders and the humidity make your skin sticky.

From someone else’s view, this was probably some dramatic moment for the protagonist to break down crying and the love interest, in this case it was asshole-Jimin, would unexpectedly pop out of nowhere to dry their tears. But you weren’t crying and this wasn’t some poorly filmed soap opera. Jimin wouldn’t come begging for your forgiveness and you would just get wet from the rain out of spite, and maybe because you’re a little dumb.

Actually, you thought, this is a whole lot worse.

Then, you’re fucking angry. Your feet move before you can properly deduct your best options, carrying you the total opposite way from the gym. You even go as far as to jog, rounding corners without slowing and completely leaving the campus, hoping you remembered the directions right.

To hell with what Jimin thinks. If he’s too coward to face you, then you’ll do the damn thing yourself.

One, two, three houses down. You don’t even really know where you’re going, reversing a few steps and rerouting down different blocks and while getting completely drenched by the rain. Was it hailing now? Not possible.

You’re honestly about to give up before you see that goddamned mint-colored head poking out from a porch, a small dot of orange extending from his lips and you have the urge to rip the cig from his mouth and chuck it. So when you get close enough, you do.

“What the hell?” but he only eyes you with indifference. He kinda reminds you of a cat.

“Is he home?” Yoongi nods, face only lifting in recognition once he makes contact with the cheer hoodie.

“Great,” you smile, shoving past him and through the open front door. You don’t know why the hell Yoongi is smoking outside in the first place, because the whole house reeks and is hazy beyond belief. But when your eyes land on him, you see clear as day.

Jimin has a cigarette of his own drooping from his lips, nearly spitting it out when he stumbles to stand straight in front of you.

“Y-Y/N, what’re you doing here? What the hell happened?”

You don’t understand the entirety of his second question until you hear the tiniest of droplets on his hardwood floors, quickly examining the damage in which how wet you were, then totally disregarding it altogether. You probably looked feral with second day clothes, puffy red eyes and a tangled mop in exchange of hair, but at this point, you didn’t give two damns.

“Give me time? ‘Give me time’? What kind of pathetic excuse is that? How completely dense do you have to be to not even have the strength to tell me the truth? You win, Jimin, I’m not your type nor am I as hot and ready as Jennie, okay? If I’m too much of this preppy bitch you constantly view in your eyes, then leave me the fuck alone! Continue to dangle yourself in front of every girl’s hungry face, for all I care. Just don’t act like you care when you lack any human emotion thereof and don’t,” you snap your arm away when he reaches for it, “include me in this little circus act of yours anymore.”

You come up for air, running your hands through your soaked locks and laughing like some sort of psycho. For the first time today, the weight that lingered on your chest is lifted. This was, like, some enlightenment type shit.

Jimin looks like he’s on the verge of crying or slapping you across the face, if the two could relate somehow. He knew this would happen sooner or later, drowning himself in packs of Marlboro’s to ease the guilt from his mind. Even worse, seeing you in person and seeing you so filled with hatred was making him fall even more in love with you, if it was possible. His thoughts were facetious, wanting nothing more than to engulf you in his arms and keep you here, with him. It was a little late for that.

You pipe up again only to die down, eyebrows knit together in concentration of what your next move was. Instead, you let your true emotions show in hopes that it kills him. You let your tears fall for the first time that day, lips pressed hard into a line and sighing so slow that your breath shakes. Seeing you like this made Jimin’s stomach plummet.

“You’re not my type either,” you whisper, expecting some sort of response or outburst or at least a fucking attempt of an explanation from him. But you don’t wait forever and you show yourself out the door.

You were pretty good at this whole ignoring game, he had to admit. Only after a certain amount of phone calls, voicemails, and texts (12, 3, and 8, by the way) did you finally go through with blocking his number entirely. You would sit on the exact opposite side of the lecture hall, surrounding yourself with occupied seats so he couldn’t just sit next to you, and practically dodging bodies to leave before he could catch up. He stopped trying that approach when he made accidental eye contact with you during class, eyes filled to the brim in pain and regret and longing to turn back the clock so you wouldn’t have to suffer because of him, it made him sick.

Jimin starts his walk home, had finished utilizing one of the lounges to study for a few hours. Like always, he beelines around the stadium to get to one of the main streets, passing by different athletic groups on the track.

He even sees you on the turf, practicing tumbling passes with the rest of the team, smile plastered on your face when your one friend… Kook, talks to you on the sideline. His heart wrenches, haven’t seen that smile in days. Trying his luck, he jumps over the dividing gate and walks down the track to your area.

You see him eventually, mumbling curses and cowering behind Jungkook even though he can’t completely hide you.

“What the—what’s wrong?”

“It’s him. I don’t want to talk to him,” you whimper, hating confrontation and hating lies even more so. Jungkook grips your shoulders, giving them a squeeze and showing an easing smile.

“I’ll take care of it. Go get some water from your bag,” he assures. You feel like crying for the rare occasion that your teammate, as stubborn as he was, would stick up for you in a time of need, nodding obediently and scurrying off to find your duffel.

Jungkook turns, his best look of intimidation etched onto his toned features and crossing his muscular arms for effect as Jimin walks up.

“I really need to talk to her. I’m not trying to hurt her, just want to clear up some things,” is all Jimin says, overlooking his opponents battle stance.

“We’re in the middle of practice right now. Cheer squad members only. Get lost,” Jungkook growls. Jimin rolls his eyes, ignoring Jungkook’s warning and trying to maneuver around him, instead being met with his beefy shoulder and a final glare of warning, “I said, get lost.”

Without thinking, Jimin rolls up his sleeves, tongue-in-cheek, ready to force his way through and teach this kid to live up to his word. But your eyes meet Jimin’s, worry for your friend apparent and willing an awkward encounter if it means it’ll protect Jungkook. Jimin sighs, backing down immediately and nodding.

“Please, just tell her to give me a call, at least. Sorry for interrupting.”

Jungkook can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy, waiting until Jimin starts heading back until he calls out, “I will,” and giving him a hard but assertive smile. Jimin wouldn’t be trying so hard to reach out to you unless he really had a reason to.

“What did he say? He looked like he was about to kick your ass,” you prod, searching your teammates for any hint of reaction. He simply shrugs.

“He just requested to talk to you. He wasn’t really being an ass or anything. Actually, just being a little desperate. Are you sure you don’t want to hear what he has to say?” Jungkook asks. He was all for protecting you and valuing your wants more than anything, but he knows from personal experience that guys never try that hard unless they really have the hots for someone.

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth. Deep down, you really wanted to hear him out, hope it was all just a poorly-timed misunderstanding and have him tell you that you were what he really wanted. But then you remembered how unsurprised Yoongi was when he took yet another girl home, and how Jimin flat-out ignored you for days, and that god-awful Jennie that was literal walking evidence of your worst concern.

“No, I don’t want to hear anything he has to say,” you conclude.

Over the weekend, Jimin finds himself stuck in the dance studio for hours, working out all the stress he’s accumulated over this whole thing. He doesn’t even know if he’ll get over it as long as he stays here, contemplating dropping school altogether and going back home to Korea. He shoos away the thought as quickly as it comes, he was just being dramatic.

His muscles heave with every move, exhausted and overworked, yet he perseveres. His limbs beg him to stop, but he pushes himself even harder. Dripping sweat, his toe catches on his other foot and stumbles, floor coming so fast that only his elbows are able to catch the fall in time. The impact shakes his bones and makes him cry out in frustration, but he’s fine otherwise. Jimin rolls onto his back, a bubbling anger rising and tempting him to smash every mirror in this studio that reflects his pathetic self and his pathetic actions that haunt him like an ugly scar. Your face flashes in his mind, some odd sleepless-inducing mirage laughing at him.

He calms.

Flinging his bag over his shoulder, he practically forces himself to leave. More than anything, he needed to sleep and focus on finals that were this following week, not worry about some girl that didn’t even want to talk to him.

On his way, he sees Yoongi’s hair on the opposite side of the quad, coffee in hand and face contorted into a rare smile as he talks to some girl. Jimin, the cockblock that he was, changes his course in hopes of bribing his hyung to take him home.

Jimin didn’t have the sharpest of sight per se but he could pick your face from a crowd in seconds, that same face laughing and smiling at his roommate like you two were best friends now. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion or the utter shock, but he spins right back around and opts to walk home without another thought. 

When he gets home, he patiently waits for Yoongi, building a script in his head of the calm questions he’ll ask that will shed some light on what he could possibly be talking to you about. Yoongi was an attractive male himself, and surely wouldn’t give a shit about taking Jimin’s love interest for his own.

The door squeaks open after a short while, Yoongi muttering a short, “I’m home,” and treading to the kitchen. Jimin pops up from the couch and follows him, waiting for Yoongi to stick his head back out from the fridge.

“Shit, dude,” Yoongi jumps at Jimin’s sudden appearance, “prima ballerina is light on his toes.”

“What were you doing talking to Y/N,” Jimin asks without hesitation. Yoongi stares him down, amusement drawn on his face.

“What, are you stalking her now?”

Jimin’s eye twitches, “And are you suddenly interested in cheerleaders now, too? Just tell me what you guys were talking about!” It takes all of his patience to not unleash his pent-up anger on his hyung, knuckles turning white from squeezing his fists.

Yoongi leans against the counter, “Chill. I don’t like her. Accidentally bumped into her, quite literally, and got caught in a conversation.” Jimin internally chuckles, you were so goddamn clumsy.

“You should talk to her, no matter what,” he continues, “I think she’s really hurt right now but she’ll let you soon I bet.”

Jimin wondered if that was true.

Minthead’s words bounced around in your skull. They had been bouncing around throughout the week, even following up to your psych final. You took Friday’s final opening as there were too many students in the class for the professor to monitor and, honestly, it gave you more time to procrastinate on studying. Not that it mattered, you couldn’t focus anyway.

What you didn’t find surprising, no thanks to Lady Luck, was that Jimin picked the same day as you. He waved and smiled upon seeing your arrival, in which you rolled your eyes and sat near the back corner. Jimin, having enough of this game, collects his things and travels all the way across the lecture hall to plop down two seats away from you.

“Cheating, are we, Mister Park?” the professor eyes him with suspicion worn down with fatigue.

“N-No, sir.” Jimin clears his throat, whispering to you without his notice, “Look, we need to talk. I’m not letting you leave until you hear what I have to tell you.”

“Oh, so you’re blackmailing me now?” you spit.

“Don’t be stubborn. You don’t have to forgive me, you just need to hear my side of the story so we can both feel at ease,” he chooses his next words carefully, “although, I don’t want you to hate me, if I can help it.”

“No more talking, turn in your packet in the front when you’re done. You may leave when you’re finished,” the professor instructs, handing you both your finals.

You don’t look at Jimin for the remainder of the hour, focusing on the questions as hard as you can with a lingering indecisiveness nagging you in the back of your skull. How could you trust what Yoongi told you? What if Jimin was behind all of what he said in order for you to just be wrapped around his finger again? You were just starting to feel better, back to normal, even.

When you’re finished, you round up your stuff and submit your final. You don’t look where he’s sitting when you exit the hall, but you know he’s watching you leave. The doors shut quietly behind you and your brain fights to come to a decision.

“Forget it,” you mumble, feeling defeated and walking towards the quad.

It takes Jimin an extra 15 minutes to finish writing his answers, his mind whirring and cursing himself for taking so goddamn long, but how was he supposed to focus? Not when you completed it so early and probably left ahead of him. He all but jogs out, looking down each side of the hallway to look for you. He’s not surprised that you didn’t wait.

“Dammit!” he grunts, punching a decent-sized dent in the drywall. People around eye him, whispering words of concern and fear but he doesn’t care. Just paces outside as fast as he can to avoid familiar faces or staff.

“Jimin? Geez, dude, you look like a raging bull,” you call out to him, stepping away from a nearby bench and catching up to his angered frame.

“Y/N? I thought you left,” he exhales with relief, rubbing his bruising knuckles in his other hand, “Does this mean that you’ll talk to me?”

You shrug, eyes catching on his small injury, “I, uh, yeah. What happened? Are you okay?” You pull his hand towards you, brushing away debris from the wall and examining the damage, eyebrows knit in caring concern.

His heart races, how could you possibly touch him right now? How could you prioritize his wellbeing when he’s hurt you so badly? Pulling his arm away, he nods his head towards the bench you came from, “Wanna sit? I’ll make it quick, if I’m interrupting you.”

When you take a seat, several inches away from him for safe measure, you finally get a good look at Jimin for the first time in days. His hair stuck up in every direction and looked slick from grease, his normally dewy complexion pale and dull, and even more, reeking of cigarette smoke. He looked like hell, and even though you shouldn’t, you feel victorious in some way.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase,” he starts, “I get bored of girls really easily. I don’t like being obligated to a relationship because they’re totally bullshit most of the time. And I don’t have the patience for one single person.”

“Great, thanks, Jimin. I’m leaving now,” you say with a sarcastic laugh, starting to stand up until he grabs your wrist.

“But there’s something so different about you. I can’t get you out of my head. You’re pretty, fuck, you’re gorgeous. More than that, you’re strong and smart and not afraid to raise your voice and you’re not this overly-optimistic person but everything you touch is just suddenly so much better and I truly felt like you were doing that to me. You were making me better and pushing me to do what I love and all the more I fell in love with you along the way, but I was scared.” His leg shakes more and more as he continues and you can’t help but stare at his nervous antic.

“I tried so many times to forget you, to convince myself that this was just some,” he whirls his hands in the air, “phase, or something. But it just felt so wrong and I regret ever trying to attempt to do so. But I want to change, I want to love you and I want you to forgive me.”

“That’s a lot to ask for, Jimin. It’s a little too late for that,” you say, voice wavering. You wish you could punch yourself for being so weak in front of him. Or, even better, you could punch him.

“Too late? It’s not too late, baby. Let me show you how good I can be for you. You’re talking about the party, right? And the girl? That was nothing.”

You wince at his nonchalance, “Perhaps it’s nothing to you, Jimin, but the last thing I was expecting was for you to run off and fuck some sorority girl when you were so confused about me. That’s not how this works.”

He looks appalled, “What? You think I fucked someone?”

“I know you did. Some girl stumbling down the same time you did said so when she was talking to the rest of her Jimin fanclub,” you spit. This is where the real test came in.

“I didn’t—no. I didn’t screw anyone that night, oh my god. That’s why you’re so mad at me,” he ruffles his hair, completely dumbfounded, “Okay. I’m going to tell you the truth. I was with that girl, and I was intending to…” Your heart wrenches.

“But I didn’t! We made out a little but it was so wrong so I left before anything real happened and it was really my ah-ha moment that I wouldn’t ever be happy unless it was with you, Y/N. I mean it.”

“How do I know to take your word over hers? If I were to forgive you, how do I know that you won’t do anything stupid again?”

“Unfortunately, you don’t know. I wish I could provide evidence somehow, anything that would ease your mind. All I can ask for is just one more chance and promise you that it’s all I’ll ever need. Take all the time you need to be comfortable with me again, break my heart, literally give me a stick-and-poke of your own name, I don’t care.”

You laugh a little at his exclamation, the air lightening up enough for Jimin to grab your hand with courage. Squeezing a little, you look at him sternly before wriggling your hand out of his grasp.

“I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t give anyone second chances. It just makes what they did to me okay, and it’s not okay even if you didn’t go all the way. You still hurt me, Jimin.”

His face droops with melancholy, “It’s not okay, it’s not okay at all. But—Y/N. Please. Just make one exception…”

“I—” your eyes well with tears, again, “I don’t know Jimin. I want to but I’m just not sure.” Your flight responses kick in and you hop off the bench.

“I have to go. I have to get to practice and there’s a performance at halftime tomorrow and I just don’t have time for… this.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I won’t bug you anymore but please just think about it. About me.”

You nod and smile feebly, forcing your body away from him as fast as you could without sprinting. You didn’t even have practice for another hour and you’re sure Jimin knew that, but it would only be moments before you dove into his chest and thanked him for coming back, and you didn’t want to be so weak.

Assuring yourself that you’re just overwhelmed and possibly overthinking, you opt to head to the gym, despite being an hour early.  

Suzy somehow convinces you to sit out for the game until performance at halftime, not taking your arguments as valid and forcing you to sit under the cheer tent, arms crossed in bitterness. Here you were, now forced to think about all that’s happened while Jungkook bases Nani out of all girls. You didn’t have a problem with her, but Jungkook was your base goddammit.

“Jimin really likes you, and I can vouch for him that he didn’t do anything with Jennie that night. Unfortunately, because of you, he hasn’t been able to do anything. Never brings girls home anymore, hasn’t smoked until just recently. Even told me that he’s into dancing? ‘S weird,” Yoongi chuckled. You laugh with him, unaware that Yoongi has any expression aside from cynical indifference.

“Why are you telling me this?” As much as you appreciated his concern, why the hell did he care?

“Because all he fucking talks about is you. How pretty you are and how he was going to ask you out to a movie and how cute you eat your food? So gross, just give him a pair of used panties already,” he scrutinized.

“He can’t seem to get out of this rut, either. I’m guessing it’s because you’re pretty mad at him,” he admits after a while.

The words play in your head like a broken record, eventually giving you a gnarly headache. You were sure he was telling the truth; intentionally scheming with Yoongi to not tell Jimin of your meeting, hoping both of their stories aligned completely parallel. Jimin even told you things he didn’t need to, things Yoongi left out.

So why were you hesitating?

“Y/N! Time to shine, lazyass. Start stretching,” Jungkook yells, shaking you out of your thoughts. You do as you’re told, stretching briefly while the clock gets closer and closer to halftime. It sounds with a loud, obnoxious tone, and you run out with the rest of the team and the marching band when the football players clear the field.

The rest passes as it always does, your mind fogging out the routine having done it so many times. Suzy calls, Jungkook throws, the band plays alongside and you subconsciously follow along to the counts playing in your head.

Then, the crowd just stops cheering. You all continue, trained to push through no matter the distraction until a horrendous screech fills the stadium, the scoreboard glitching until it switches input to a live broadcast.

Losing your balance and doing the absolute opposite of what flyers should do, you crumple and reach forward to break your fall. You don’t know how, but Jungkook shoves your feet back just in time to bear-hug your waist, preventing an ugly face-plant with the ground.

“Thanks,” you heave, “What the hell is going on?”

“Probably some frat idiot prank, do you think we should just get off the field?”

“Shut it, look,” Suzy interrupts.

“Uhh, I don’t know if this is working,” a voice booms through the stadium, video focusing on some guy in a hoodie as people in the distance struggle to keep people, presumably staff, into the announcing room.

“Oh my fucking god, that’s Jimin,” you whisper, catching Jungkook’s wheeze of surprise with a mutual look of chaos.

“I don’t know how long I’ll have before I gotta skedaddle but here I go: Y/N, the one on the cheer squad preferably, I have severely fucked up. I underestimated you but you were never wrong about me because I am a total asswipe. But I want to prove that you’ve changed me and I want to be your boyfriend and always take half of your portions of food and criticize the American government,” someone yells fuck the government! in the distance to this, “and dance for you and hell, baby, I’ll dance for you and—oh shit.”

There’s a ripple of giggles and whoops throughout the crowd as Jimin darts past someone that attempts to contain him, briefly showing an exasperated face before they switch the scoreboard back to its numbery self.

“I don’t ever think I’d see the day Park Jimin would ever confess his feelings… to a cheerleader… at a televised game,” Suzy speaks between cackling. This would have been mortifying if it weren’t so utterly amusing; your cheeks straining from how hard you’re smiling. Jimin was an exceptional son-of-a-bitch, but there wasn’t really much wrong with letting your naivete get the best of you. If you gave up on every person that caused you trouble, how would you ever know what unconditional love feels like? Because you were pretty damn sure this was it and you didn’t want to give it up.

You love Jimin.

“Oh, here he comes,” Jungkook informs. You both watch as Jimin sprints onto the field, scouting for your eyes among everyone else’s and screeching to a halt in front of you with a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, what’s your answer? Because honestly, we’re not each other’s type at all appearance-wise but I can’t imagine being with anyone else at this dreaded school and if I get suspended without getting something out of this then—”

“Oh my god, Jimin, just shut the hell up, okay? You win,” you roll your eyes and wipe that stupid smile off with a caress to his sweaty face and a planted kiss on his lips. Jimin’s insides explode, either from the kiss or the incredible 4k he just sprinted but nonetheless he’s so fucking in love.

He lifts you off your feet, hugging the remainder of air out of your body and making you squeal.

“I love you, I love you, and I’m so sorry,” he repeats like a mantra, those beloved puppy dog eyes brimming with flickering adoration and regret and relief all at once.

“I—I forgive you. Really, I do. I love you, even if you make me want to shove a pom-pom down your throat,” you cry in happiness. He kisses you one more time, quick but piercing and so right.

The crowd cheers as they watch the display, and oh bologna when you signed up to be a cheerleader you didn’t think you’d catch this much attention, and even more so when Yoongi suddenly runs over with a wireless mic in hand.

“Before we get back to your soccer game, can you just clarify to the audience what you said to this little outburst right here?” He announces with deadpan enthusiasm. You knew that he secretly enjoyed this commotion, probably reveling in it like some odd middle-man that liked to watch his friend’s problems go up in flames.

You hesitantly take the mic, “Yeah, um, I said yes. I said yes and I might be making a mistake but yeah he’s taken, I’m sorry ladies.” What kind of crappily scripted teen movie was this?

You start to hand the mic back to Yoongs, but Jimin snags it and adds a quick, “Uhh last words: Fuck you Jennie, you lying bitch! ‘Kay, enjoy your game.” You choke at the exclamation.

“… Too soon?” You dramatically shrug and make a just a little sign with a pinched thumb and index.

“Jimin, how much did you have to drink to do all this?”

“A little shot for courage is nothing, babe. Oh—evening kind sirs!” Three older, and visibly agitated, teachers grab Jimin by the arm. “I’ll be back, hopefully, I’ll wait for you after the game!”

Waving him off, you return to the sideline before the pack of oblivious football players maul you. You watched his pink mop bob off into the distance, Yoongi soon accompanying him with the rest of his hooligans as they’re scrutinized by the teachers. Chuckling, you ponder how long a relationship you two could pull off, a small part of you hoping it’s deeper than calf love, and a larger bit knowing it is.

a/n: yay! you made it! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, poppy

[golbrocklovely]

only the lonely survive // colby brock - chapter nineteen: how far down they can go

A/N: sorry i couldn’t post yesterday. i was super busy with life stuff lol i’ll be coming out with a request or two later. also, tomorrow i will be posting the next chapter of Twisted since we’re getting into the home stretch of that story. let me know what you think of this story so far. also let me know if you want to be on the taglist. see yall later :)

description of the story

taglist:  @ajosieface , @localsleeper , @julyrubyrose , @far-to-many-bands , @absolute-randomness-forever

trigger warning: cursing, general fluff

word count: 1677

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAY 10/14

"Skye! You almost ready? Brennen and Colby are pulling into the driveway!" Casey called, knocking on my door.

I walked over and opened it. Casey looked me up and down. "Wow, Skye. You should dress up more often."

"Shut up." I joked.

Dressed in all black, I wore an off the shoulder dress, fishnets, and boots. Casey was a little less emo than me, sporting a floral two-piece blouse and skirt.

"Are you nervous?" I asked, grabbing my purse and slipping it on.

She shrugged. "Kinda. But I think this night's gonna be fun."

I nodded my head. "Definitely."

Three loud knocks interrupted our conversation. Casey winked at me as she opened the door, Brennen and Colby stepping inside. Colby immediately came up to me, smiling sweetly.

"Hi Colby." I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Hi Skye." He squeezed me and slowly let me go.

I glanced over his outfit: a king of hearts button up shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers.

"Nice shirt." I mumbled, looking into his eyes.

A small blush rose to his face. "Thanks."

"Y'all ready to go?" Brennen turned to us, grabbing Casey's hand.

"Where are we going to exactly?" I questioned.

"It's this Italian restaurant next to the Woodley Mall, Giuseppe's. It's new and super hard to get reservations for, but I know some people and got us a spot." Brennen smirked.

Casey tapped Brennen's arm lightly. "Is it fancy?"

Brennen shook his head. "Not really. But the food is to die for. I had them when they first opened. Let's go before we're late."

/  /  /  /

"Four for Taylor? Right this way." The hostess stated. We followed her all the way to the back of the restaurant, to a very secluded spot. The lights were dimmed and very romantic. Very soft classical music played as we passed by multiple tables, until finally getting to our booth.

"Oh, a booth? You really worked your magic Brennen." I laughed.

We slid in, Brennen and Casey on one side and Colby and I on the other. The hostess handed us menus and left us quietly. I gazed around the restaurant, observing all the different decor and patrons that were near us.

Colby lightly placed his hand on my knee, bringing me out of my thoughts. I looked at him and smiled.

"You look beautiful." He whispered.

I couldn't stop the rush of heat to my face. "Thank you."

Time flew by quickly on our date. Colby kept me close to him the whole time, wrapping his arm around me when he got the chance, kissing my cheek whenever I leaned towards him. Brennen and Casey were as handsy as us. Casey leaned her head on his shoulder, and he would pull her into a kiss right before she could take a bite of food.

After eating what felt like twenty pounds of pasta, we got our bill and paid.

"So... what are we doing next?" Casey asked, her arms stretching as we got out of the booth.

"We could head over to the mall and shop around?" Colby suggested, glancing at us.

/  /  /  /

Once we got into the mall, Colby and I separated from Brennen and Casey.

I think we all wanted to be alone with our significant others…

It was nice to just be with Colby. We caught up while shopping around. He told me how his trip went, how they almost got caught going into the abandon building by police and had to run away and hide in the forest.

I told him he was going to get arrested. He laughed.

And as I was planning to tell him about Casey and the Alex situation, a young girl walked up to us. She was pretty: blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a sweet smile. She was maybe sixteen. She had two friends with her who kept looking over at Colby and I.

“Hi. I’m such a huge fan. Can I get a picture?” She meekly asked looking directly at Colby.

He smiled brightly. “Of course!”

I took a step back, letting her get close to him. She pulled her phone up and they both posed for a selfie. Her friends stepped up and asked for photos too. Colby obliged happily.

The girl stood next to me, glancing me over. “Who are you?”

Her tone was no longer the sweet one she had when talking to Colby. I turned my head to her. She stared me down, trying to look intimidating, I think.

I held back a laugh. “I’m Skye. What’s your name?”

“Ashley.” She replied.

I nodded my head. “Nice to meet you.”

I turned back towards Colby and Ashley’s friends, smiling at their interaction.

Colby looked so cute when he talked to fans.

Ashley suddenly cleared her throat. “Aren’t you the girl Travis Marcus made a video about?”

Hearing his name almost made my skin crawl.

What was this girl trying to do?

Keeping the smile on my face from before, I looked Ashley in the eyes. “You mean the video where he lied? Yeah, I’m that girl.”

Her glare faltered as her friends stepped up to her and waved goodbye at Colby. She did the same thing, her gaze never returning to me.

Colby and I strolled in the other direction of the girls after saying goodbye. “Um… Colby?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Could we… maybe go back to your place and just hang? I’m tired all of a sudden.” I responded.

He giggled. “As long as we can cuddle, I’m down.”

I half-laughed, following him to towards the exit as he called an uber.

Something about that Ashley girl doesn’t sit right with me. But I can’t tell Colby. That’s one of his fans.

He would probably think I’m crazy…

/  /  /  /

I had dozed off the moment we got into bed and cuddled. Colby had as well. I woke up to his arms around me and my face buried in his chest. I didn’t want to wake him, so I had been laying in bed for an hour now, just scrolling through my phone.

Switching from Twitter to Instagram, I noticed I had been tagged in a lot more post. I had turned off notifications because of the whole Travis incident. Looking through my tagged post, my heart stopped for a moment.

Oh no.

I slid out of Colby’s grasp as I looked at the images on my screen. Ashley had posted her photos of her and Colby. But in a different post, what she failed to mention, was that she had been following us from the moment we got into the mall with Brennen and Casey.

Multiple fan accounts had reposted her photos: the four of us, walking around for a bit and then separating. Ashley then followed Colby and I from store to store, taking a picture every so often. She caught one of us holding hands; it was blurry as all hell, but you could tell it was us.

Her caption is what hurt the most.

ashgolbrck the girl that travis mentioned in his vid… is now dating colbs… how’s that clout taste, skyeeee

The comments… were a whole different story.

Some where extremely nice, telling Ashley she shouldn’t have followed us around and that Travis literally lied in his video. Some were just surprised Colby was seen with a girl. And some were saying we were just friends and to stop assuming.

However, there were A LOT of fans asking who the fuck I was and what I was doing with him. How Ashley was right and that I was probably just using Colby for clout.

I hadn’t even realized I was breathing heavily, overwhelmed by all the hate that I was reading about myself.

I clicked my phone off and threw it onto Colby’s couch.

“What did your phone do to you?” Colby uttered, his voice low with sleep. He rubbed his eyes and stared at me as I stood up.

“Do you remember that girl we met today… Ashley?” I uttered, crossing my arms.

“Yeah. What about her?” He sat up, still sleepy.

I leaned against his desk and looked at the ground, not wanting to see his reaction. “She apparently had been following us around.”

“What?” Colby questioned, his brows furrowing as he swung his legs out of bed.

“Her and her friends followed us around the mall and took photos of us the whole time. She posted them all and then called me a clout chaser.” I groaned.

He sighed. “…Shit.”

I paced to the other side of the room, my back facing Colby. I tried to calm my nerves down, taking multiple deep breaths.

As if that’s gonna fucking do anything…

“She shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. My fan base can be a bit… overprotective. But that was uncalled for.” He insisted, shaking his head.

I turned to him hastily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you ever gonna tell the fans about me?”

I could see his body tense for a second. “Um… uh..”

“I mean, you told everyone else in your life about me. All your friends know. I just want to know if you plan to tell.” I remarked, stepping towards him.

He relaxed as I held his hands. “Eventually I want to. Do you want me to?”

“Not yet. Not for a while.” I replied.

“Why a while?” He mumbled.

“You literally only asked me out yesterday.” I smirked.

A cheeky smile came to his face. “Valid.”

“Also, we already have a lot of eyes on us right now. I don’t think we need anymore. I don’t want us to get judged for being together, especially since everything is so new.” I admitted.

He nodded. “I agree completely.”

“Four months…” I spoke. “Once we’ve hit that, I think then you can tell everyone.”

Colby chuckled. “Four months? You plan to stick with me that long?”

I leaned up and lightly pecked his lips. “You’re lucky I don’t ask you to marry me right now.”

<< CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 20 >>

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 1

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 1.8k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Mature (for right now)

A/N: Ahh look at me. Starting another chaptered fic. Remember how I said a while ago that I hoped to have a fic to begin posting by Valentines Day? Well, this isn’t the fic. But I’ll take it lol I know I have a very bad track record lately of completing what I’ve started but I have 10k written on this fic already so I’m set for the next like five weeks which gives me plenty of time to finish the fic! Every one when I asked wanted this fic and I’m so glad because I’ve really grown to fall in love with it!

As always: I’m not an expert, nor a movie star or anything, so I’m not saying any of this accurate. I just thought this might be how it goes. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Happy reading!

Updates will be every Sunday at 1pm EST until I have the fic finished and then it’ll be twice weekly

**Masterlist | Read on Ao3**

“Dear Workers,

The BBC Studio will be closed for the next week to accommodate the filming of a new featured film starring Daniel Howell and Mimei Lake. During this time, you will have to work from home on any projects you may be in the middle of. A select few of you will be asked to work on the set as extras for the film. We’ll email those we selected by the end of tomorrow.

Hope this isn’t a hassle and apologies for any inconveniences.

Corporate”

****

“Did you read the new email?” Phil turned his head to his friend PJ sitting next to him in their office. “They’re actually closing down the whole building just to film a few scenes for one movie.”

Phil, coffee in hand and his laptop open to said same email, sighed. “It’s a Daniel Howell movie. Of course they’re shutting down the entire building.”

PJ rolled his eyes. Everyone knew of Daniel Howell. He was only the biggest actor in Hollywood right now. But that didn’t mean that everyone shared in on the fangirling when it came to his name being mentioned. “The BBC is gonna be untouchable all next week. I don’t even wanna know how many girls and guys are going to flock here to meet him.”

“He doesn’t do photos and autographs though?” Phil brought up, setting his mug on the table and shutting his laptop down. His work was nearly done anyway for the day.

“Still never stops the fans.” PJ says, tipping his head. “He’ll mention he’s in London on his Instagram or Twitter and then it’ll be over.”

Phil nodded. Yeah, that sounds pretty much correct. “Fair enough.”

“Who do you think they selected to work on set?” PJ asked. “I reckon they chose some of the interns because that they don’t have to pay them.”

“I hope it’s not me.” Phil says immediately. “God, the less I have to be here during this time, the better.”

“It’s gonna be impossible to even get here.” PJ adds. “They’re gonna block off all of the streets to accommodate Daniel’s massive trailer that he lugs everywhere.”

“I don’t even want to imagine.” Phil says. “I’d much rather just stay in my flat with Spike and work on my laptop.”

PJ nodded in agreement.

Just as PJ began to speak again, the door to their office opened and their coworker Gemma walked in, her expression giddy and a smile plastered on her lips. “Did you two see the email?”

Both PJ and Phil nodded.

“How are you both not more excited about this?” Gemma exclaimed. “Daniel freaking Howell is gonna be walking around our building! He could sit in your chair right now. Or use my office as a set. Or—”

“He’s just another person.” Phil interrupted her.

“But he’s not though!” Gemma shot back with a smile. “Oh, you two don’t get it.” She waved her hand and walked further into the office. She pulled out a chair at the desk next to Phil and plopped down.

“There isn’t much to get.” PJ countered. “He’s just a bloke who happens to be good looking and also a major celebrity.”

“So you do get it!” Gemma pointed out. “I really hope I’m one of the ones corporate selected to work on set as an extra. I would give anything to stand in the same room as Daniel Howell.”

“They’re probably just going to choose interns.” Phil says. “I doubt they’ll choose any of their paid employees.”

“I wonder if I email corporate if they’ll bump my name on the list and I can do it.”

Pj shrugged and tapped his pen against his forehead. “Doesn’t hurt if you really want to do it.”

“I’m steering clear of this building while he’s here.” Phil comments, picking up his now ice cold coffee mug and taking a sip, cringing at the taste of it.

“What do you have against Daniel Howell?” Gemma asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“He’s just another celebrity.” Phil says. “He’s pretentious and rude.”

“You don’t know that.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “It’s common knowledge.”

“What? That every celebrity is a dick?” Gemma asked, her voice clearly laced with tension. “Isn’t that a bit shallow minded?”

Phil shrugged. “Change my mind but until then, I’m gonna stand by it. I doubt any celebrity like Daniel Howell is down to Earth.”

Gemma scoffed. “Well, I for one think that it would be brilliant to work alongside him.”

Phil chuckled and took another sip of his cold coffee. He definitely didn’t want to work alongside Daniel Howell but he had to admit that it was endearing to see Gemma swooning over the actor.

Once Gemma left, Phil began to pick up his things and prepare to go home for the night. He stuffed his laptop in his backpack and then through in some of the folders he needed to complete the advertising project he was assigned to do for the BBC Radio 1 show.

He and PJ left the BBC at the same time and headed to the tube to go back to their flats. They lived in opposite areas of London but they saw each other often outside of work.

When Phil got to his flat and he opened the door with his key, he was immediately greeted by the excited yips of his puppy Spike. He was a ten month old Corgi that Phil adopted as a puppy. Spike kept him busy and less-lonely on nights where he wished he wasn’t thirty one and hopelessly single.

He bent down and scratched Spike’s belly as he rolled around on his carpet from excitement. Phil eventually stopped petting Spike long enough to go to the kitchen and check his food bowl and water. He knew his brother came over sometimes to let out Spike while he was at work so he sometimes fills up his food and water.

Today was one of those days. His food bowl was heaping over and his water was clean and clear. Martyn just came over not that long ago then. He made a mental note to text Martyn but in the mean time, he called Spike over to his door that lead to the courtyard and hooked a leash on his collar to take him outside one more time for good measure.

After being done, Phil let Spike go back into the flat. He immediately ran over and flopped onto his bed next to the couch and closed his eyes to take a nap. Phil sat down on the couch and looked over his phone, catching up on any notifications he might have missed while he was on his way home.

He saw a notification for an email and he sighed. It was probably some junk mail that some store was sending him. He got them a lot from Topman but to be fair, that’s where his entire wardrobe comes from.

He unlocked his phone and clicked on the email notification and waited to load it up. Once it did, he felt all breath leave his chest.

“To: Philip M. Lester.

Good Evening! If you have seen our emails from this morning you would have seen that the BBC will be closed for the filming of a feature film. Effectively 15th of January at 10pm until 9am on 25th of January, the BBC offices and building will be closed for filming.

However, after careful consideration, we would appreciate your help at the BBC during filming as a film extra. You should report to the BBC by half past 7 on the 15th of January.

If you have any question, email us back. This is part of your scheduled job and you will need to report when assigned.

Corporate”

Phil laid down on the couch and groaned.

Of course his luck would have it this way. Of fucking course this would happen.

***

“So we both got stuck coming didn’t we?”

Phil looked at PJ, his eyes still blurry from having to wake up so early. He didn’t even bother to put his contacts in today, he just threw on his glasses and said forget it.

“Guess so.” Phil says, standing beside PJ on the tube. Their stop was the next one. In the morning, they always ended up on the same tube before they got to the BBC. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It already is.” PJ answers. “Did you go on Twitter this morning?”

Phil shook his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket. But he should have known he wouldn’t have any service while on the underground.

“It was a Twitter moment that Daniel Howell was spotted in London about to begin filming. He also tweeted, in true form, that he was going to be in London for a few weeks.”

“Oh great.” Phil said, rolling his eyes. “So what you mean is that the BBC is gonna be like impenetrable force?”

“Yep.”

Phil sighed and the tube stopped, the doors opening. They stepped outside and wandered through the crowds to the exit. Once they walked out of the tube station, it was over. They saw the crowds beginning already. Hoards of teenagers and even some adults all screaming and holding signs behind a barrier of police.

“Oh my gosh.” Phil exclaimed. “This is absolute madness!”

“Well, here we go, Lad.” PJ said, hooking his arm with Phil’s and yanking him across the street to the main entrance of the BBC.

They were nearly there when they were stopped by police, asking what they were doing. As soon as they both flashed their BBC badges, they were let inside to even more madness going on.

People were running around everywhere. There were sections of the building completely taped off and there were offices on the first floor that were being blocked by people in front of the door.

They continued walking inside and were greeted by a woman with a clipboard. “Can I get your names?”

“PJ Ligouri.”

“Phil Lester.”

The woman looked over the clipboard and smiled and looked at them both. “Welcome! If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to where you need to be.”

Just as they were about to walk and follow the woman, loud cheering and screaming began behind them, just outside the building. Looking out the door, Phil could see him.

Next Chapter

[freestockphotoscom]

The Finest optical illusion Artwork Online: PHOTOS

Most viewers miss the same-headed individuals in the background. what047/Imgur

Listed below are 12 0f the most vexing recorders which have gone viral along with some explanations of how they work.

Kendall Jenner Appears to Be missing a leg.

Where is her leg? InStyle magazine/Instagram

They are all very leggy. So it is odd that one went missing. Kendall leg has been to be viewed. Where’d it go?

It’s under her gown.

Found it! InStyle magazine/Instagram

At some point, the web figured out it. It was under her dress all together! If you look really closely, you may see the horizontal top of her leg again. She’s pointing her knee and twisting her torso forwards to be more prominent in the picture.

That illusion of six girls with five pairs of legs flummoxed the web.

What is happening? jr0d7771/Reddit

But — yet again — a leg was lost. The person sitting at the middle of the couch    seemingly has no legs.

What is really happening is a bit more tricky.

That makes much more sense. Jacob Shamsian/INSIDER, jr0d7771/Reddit

You’ll see what’s really happening if you look closer.

The girl in the middle of the sofa does, in fact, possess legs. Her chest’s leaning to the right to her left and her mind. So it is hard to tell that all those legs on the left of the viewer are hers.

The girl most of the way on the left’s bottoms are fairly obvious. She’s wearing black jeans.

So that leaves the individual next in the furthermost. When you look carefully, you’ll see that she’s also wearing black jeans.   One of her legs is completely supporting the other girl’s legs. You can view a sliver of the other one from the image. In the event that you correct the lighting of the photo it helps.

There’s something off about this viral picture. Can you see it?

Look carefully��what047/Imgur

This particular image   went viral on Imgur, uploaded by a user going by the title of what047. It has the caption “It took me forever to get exactly what was wrong here…”

All the faces in the desktop are the same.

Look at them. what047/Imgur

You may have been attempting to closely at the girls in the foreground. Nothing is off on them.

But in the background, everyone has the identical mind. Someone edited the image so that everybody’s mind was replaced with one belonging to a guy.

The suggestion of the image is a great reminder that the specifics you’re searching for are in the foreground. Sometimes they’re in places that are surprising.

Would these legs seem greasy for you?

They seem shiny! leonardhoespams/Instagram

Later Hunter Culverhouse posted it around 20, this image went viral. It looks like the legs of Culverhouse are coated in acrylic.

It’s really just stripes of white paint.

Nevermind. leonardhoespams/Instagram

Together with the image it is somewhat more easy to tell what’s really happening: stripes of paint make it seem like a warmth of light is coming from the legs of Culverhouse. They’re actually tender.

“[I] had some white paint left in my brush and place random lines in my legs,” Culverhouse composed in an email. “Turned out to be a completely perplexing picture for everyone on the internet.”

Can this dress black and blue or white and gold?

You should be aware of the solution by now. Tumblr

The dress! How can anyone forget the dress? Black and blue? Gold and white? Why does this seem different to everyone?

The first image was published on Tumblr by a girl called Caitlin McNeill, a singer-songwriter from Scotland, afterwards she sent the film to her buddies, who whined on the color.  

It’s black and blue. Here’s the science behind it seems different for different individuals.

Yup. Screenshot / Roman Originals

The science of the dress was seen by individuals differently is somewhat complex, and scientists provide explanations for a few of the details. The peer-reviewed Journal of Vision even released several articles   relating to this.

Stated clearly, the way that your brain determines color relies on two things: the color of the object you’re seeing and also the color of the light source. The image was overexposed, which means the  light in the image overwhelmed the color of the subject. Regions of the dress were in shadow. This suggests that the gown had a tight mild makeup of bluish shadow, so representing yellow light, and the dress itself off, in the store’s poor lighting. Regions of the image also seem to imply that the dress is backlit.

Depending on whether the dress was seen by your brain in shadow  or at an immediate light, you’d see the colors differently.

These berries are not red.

There’s no red in this image. Akiyoshi Kitaoka/Twitter

It’s because of a phenomenon called color constancy.

The strawberries seem red anyway. Carson Mell/Twitter

Your brain may believe that they’re red because of a phenomenon called colour. It’s  regarding the science supporting The Dress: Your brain examines the color of the light and the color of the object to determine the color presented for you.

But the brain also understands that the object’s color is for determining the color of the object much more useful. So it is trained to dismiss information from the color of the light.

So there is no red from the 22, the color of the light has been manipulated. But your mind acknowledges the objects like berries, and it understands that berries (at least as many folks know them) are red, so it knows that the berries to be red even if the image has no red inside.

“You brain states, ‘the light source which I am seeing these berries below has some blue part to it, so I’m going to reevaluate that mechanically from every pixel,'” Bevil Conway, a neuroscientist at the National Eye Institute, told Motherboard. “When you choose grey pixels and subtract this out gloomy prejudice, you find yourself with reddish”

These shapes are mirror images of each other.

Witchcraft. The Illusion contest/YouTube

Should you see the full video, you can view Sugihara placing the shapes and rotating them — just for completely distinct shapes to appear at the mirror. It’s really cool.

“Ambiguous cylinders” are somewhere between a circle and a square.

There’s an easy and elegant explanation. The Illusion contest/YouTube

Should you pause the video at roughly the 15 minute mark, mid-rotation, you will see the thing’s “authentic” shape.

Ambiguous cylinders, Sugihara writes at a newspaper cited by Motherboard, are somewhere between a square and a circle. In cases like this, the contour also has borders that are top that are wavy. Depending upon your view, your brain adjusts the shape of the image to look like a circle or a square. It is possible to create the identical illusion using much more elaborate shapes which are composed of squares and circles, which is exactly what Sugihara did with the objects.

You’ll find 12 dots in this image. Can you see all of them at one time?

My mind hurts. Perception

This particular illusion comes in an academic paper published in 2000 in the journal Perception by Jacques Ninio and Kent A. Stevens. In case you have access, you’re able to read the newspaper through here.

They can’t be seen by the majority of folks all at one time, although there are 12 circles in the image.

Your peripheral vision sucks.

There they are! Perception

You ought to be in a position to observe. But the ones in your vision pop  in and out.

That is because humans simply don’t have very good peripheral vision, as eyesight scientist Derek Arnold clarified to The Verge. For something like that dots against lines — your mind gets the best guess it can to fill in the information. In cases like this, it supposes the dots are not there. The lines that are white in between the grey makes your brain feel the dots are lighter than they are. Thus, it only sees more grey.

“That may counteract the blurry black dot that is really, physically there,” Arnold told The Verge.

What does this look like to you?

A brick wall? Arron Bevin/Facebook

A brick wall, right?

There’s a cigar in there.

Close, but additionally a cigar. Arron Bevin/Facebook

Can it be submerged or not?

Difficult to tell…maskari/Imgur

She seems like she’s underwater because it appears because air bubbles seem to be floating upward and that she’s under light. But she also seems like she’s simply jump into the water.

She’s definitely not submerged.

There are a few clues. maskari/Imgur

For one, you can not be submerged and splashing in the identical moment into water. This makes no sense.

Either overexposure or even a digitally added filter leaves like she’s submerged, the light seem. But she’s not.

These two train trail segments are the identical size.

However they don’t seem like it. INSIDER

Both curves in the track will be the identical dimensions, but one the one in the left appears bigger than the one on the correct once they’re next to each other.

Yes, really. The illusion is known as the Jastrow illusion.

Here’s the way they seem piled on one another. INSIDER

There are a few distinct theories for the way the Jastrow effect works. But essentially, your brain contrasts the 2 sides of their track bits which are adjacent to each other. Instead of comparing the side of one piece it contrasts the side of the left side trail to the left side of the path that is ideal, because those 2 sides are alongside each other.

All these are likely to function as sand dunes.

They don’t seem like hills. Luca Parmitano/Twitter

European Space Agency astronaut Luca Parmitano chose a photo of some sand dunes while flying a few hundred kilometers over a desert in 2013.

“Like an Escher painting, sand dunes seem to reproduce the identical shape indefinitely,” he composed.

It wasn’t seen by A lot of people. The photo looks like a lot of pits, perhaps hills. What is happening?

Flip it over and you’ll see what they really are.

There they are. Luca Parmitano/Twitter

The illusion is easy. Your brain thought the sun was at the 1:00 position, meaning that they had been casting shadows. The sun was casting shadows in the upper-left. By turning the image upside-down, the image is put into a format we’re more used to.

from free stock photos http://www.free-stock-photos.info/the-finest-optical-illusion-artwork-online-photos/

[hiwoshianqi]

Shanghai Trip 11th Sep 17 - 15 Sep 17

Time flies, it’s been so long since my Shanghai trip !! ●︿● This trip is definitely one of those trips I will hold dear to my heart because of the things that happened to Shenanigans. 

First off, the night before the flight, Claudia and Jiayi came to my place to overnight cus my parents were sending us to the airport. We ended up ordering Macdelivery at like 1am+ cus we were hungry lols.. After that at around 2+ 3am, they both freaking fell asleep wtf. Then there’s me, playing league until it was time to get ready to leave. Sankiew to Rtye and Daniel for keeping me company (/^▽^)/  Yes I ton the whole night LOL it was a 5 hour flight anyway so.. 

7/7 Shenanigans 

spot us !! and bless my bangs wth retarded. 

babes (idk why the picture turned out to be so blurry)

damn embarrassing to do this at the friggin airport LOL but tp pride HAHAHAH.

Luckily we boarded SQ and not some budget airline cus throughout the plane ride I was just sleeping and sleeping and sleeping HAHAH. I woke up to eat the provided lunch then went back to sleep again wtf. 

OH YA, we rented the wifi router from Changi airport and idky ours was useless wth. Ok not really in a sense we still could send whatsapp, telegram messages but we weren’t able to open snapchat and instagram etc. Throughout the trip we were just using our free 2GB data, which everyone used up by the 5th day.........

DAY 1 SHANGHAI

It was raining when we landed and it continued to rain until the evening so it was reallyyyyyy cold. 

Visited some atas stores around the shopping area which i forgot the street name but highlight of day1 !! >>> We went to Charles & Keith HQ Shanghai to walk around the office and sat in for a talk (which i didnt really understand cus the speaker was chinese). But later Charles came to talk to us in person !! He’s a really nice guy who’s very down to earth & friendly  (*^｡^*)

Had a solid 1/10 halal dinner which was the absolute worst meal ever in Shanghai tbh (,,꒪꒫꒪,,) Most of it was just the dish + 10 ladles of salt to the point where it just wasnt edible after a while cus ITS DAMN SALTY!!!1!11!!! Because of that I kept spamming water which turned out to be one of the biggest regret of the day......... After dinner, we left for our hotel to check in but then our bus decided to loop around the hotel 5 F R E A K I N G times cus it couldn’t enter the hotel for god knows what reason. We ended up stopping by the road side and had to walk to our hotel with our luggage gdi my bladder was #@%&!@  ヾ(｀◇´)ﾉ彡 Day 1: SOLID 3/10 

DAY 2 SHANGHAI

We went to Hongkou Plaza at like 10am but I remembered waking up super early omo. Anyway at first we were toured around the mall to like understand the layout and stuff about it which was really meh.. (the trip was more so for retail students but we are studying tourism so.. cant relate) After that we had an hour to shop yeay ٩(^ᴗ^)۶

Again, not related but we went Lenovo !! It was really interesting to see them test the laptops cus they say each button can be pressed like 20,000 times and they legit had machines to press buttons for 20,00 times HAHAHA.

Day 2 weather was gr888 it was sunny and windy

bb (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) ♡

After that we went to a supermarket called HEMA which I only remembered on the ceilings of the supermarket there were like railings (??) Apparently you shop online then they pack and deliver your order to your doorstep so yeh.

lastly we went to this very aesthetically pleasing place called Xin Tian Di. A lot of places to take v instagram-able pictures !! 

literally my current dp 

At night it was just drinking night LOL, had girls talk and a running around 4th level adventure with Claud cus we werent suppose to be at places we were at. First time i was so scared and panicky wth skkrt skkrt

DAY 3 SHANGHAI

Another bombass weather day, we visited 2 universities, 1 kinda artsy and another electronics kind. Schools in Shanghai are so huge wth, there were a lot of open spaces.

This was inside one of the game design room I think super cute!! 

sorry I very suaku first time see chinese keyboard HAHA i was so amazed

Ended off by visiting Huangbu river (??) 

The sunset was really beautiful !! 

tp pride post again HAHAH. It took so long just to take photos bc people there really don’t give a shit and will just walk right in front of you ahahah but oh well. 

Finally had our girls night out ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ We ate  Häagen-Dazs, then tried to find H&M which took us about 20 minutes. Even though it was only like a 5 minutes walk from our hotel wth, no one knew the way HAHA. Afterwards, we tried taking a cab but then the uncle was REALLY RUDE. Like he freaking chased us out and called us shabi rofl okden, but all is well!! we found H&M on our own, bought what we wanted and stumbled across this really cute bubbletea shop & a really really nice lady !! They were having a 1 for 1 and the lady was superrr friendly, she recommended us the more popular drinks and told us how to properly drink it. She was just really nice la, this is why you should not let one negative person affect your entire day wew my night was made keke ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡

the drink itself was really good !!!  This night, 7/7 finally sat down and just talked things out among us, cleared and sorted our misunderstandings. I’m really glad we didnt drag things on even further, we bonded and got a lot closer as a clique. We shared our life problems, saw each other cry and voiced out our kept in feelings. It’s actually my first time sorting shit out with a clique so maturely, instead of just playing the cold war game.  They say its hard to find true friends in Poly but i think this noisy bunch will stay together for a long long time ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

DAY 4 SHANGHAI

Meeting time was 8am, Claud and I woke up at 7.58am NO FREAKING JOKE. We managed to rush and reach downstairs by like 8.15am but the group haven’t even gathered yet lol.. First stop was Shanghai Institution of Visual Arts (SIVA) 

It was mostly fashion design and again another huge campus tour 

and finally the highlight

of the entire trip

D I S N E Y L A N D ! ! ! 

we bought the headbands (⌯⌅⌄⌅)

Vlogged a lot at disneyland so I’ll just upload the vlogs for memory sake HAHAH. Shanghai disneyland is a lot bigger than HK’s but the amount of poeple is freaking insane omfg.

We went on like 7 (?) rides in total and there were 2 rides I couldnt join cus of mi weak heart and Eli accompanied me for 1 of them (lowkey bcs he’s a pussy) and we went through a maze.

Super unlucky it rained half way through the day fml. Plus it was really windy, but we decided to go on this ride: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_eoyjGS6fc which made all of us screamed like pussies.

The most disappointing thing was that there was NO FREAKING FIREWORKS BY THE CASTLE!!!

It was so beautiful (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。 I was so freaking upset fml but it was a good day!! Had our girls night, did masks and talked hehe.

DAY 5 SHANGHAI

Went to some furniture expo and we didn’t do much except take photos and walked around like it was IKEA LOL. 

(we didnt smoke ok part of aesthetics)

Soon after, we had to leave for the airport where Eli got me a panda plushie HAHAH he got a plushie for everyone except Ash and Car bcs they had to share a giant Judy Hoops plushie they named Cash. 

OKAY ITS END OF MY DAMN LONG OVERDUE POST. thank you Shenanigans for this amazing and memorable trip, xiao lou loves y’all (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡

Update: I’m!! finally!! done!! editing!! the!! vlog!! 

Everything was filmed on my iphone and edited with iMovie which explains the nooby-ness 

[jakbobbygalleryblog]

there’s no Neon Lights Festival this year

you may read a well written article about the event from Bandwagon, this one isn’t

It started raining that day. November is a rainy month this side of the world. And so is August, July, September, in any particular order. 

Some were still from Black Friday Sales as Thanksgiving was around 24 that year. But maybe because Singapore doesn’t really observe this holiday as a country, historically, so it doesn’t matter that much other than department stores.

So yeah, it was raining hard (it never not rained every time I return to this country, often with an amazing thunderstorm you get to notice before your plane even does the landing). I was all too excited to go to the festival but I am so tired that Friday after walking the streets at five in the morning up to seven from Lavender Road just to see the sunrise over Gardens By The Bay, Helix Bridge, and the Singapore Flyer. See, I am supposed to meet a fellow backpacker that morning, as we went around Changi the night before hoping we get ourselves a late night Hawker Centre experience. I insisted we check out the closest to the airport refusing to go McDonalds or such because I will just order McSpicy and I will never really enjoy food that much when going to another place. So yeah, we went to a Hawker Centre and missed our bus going to our places, mine over Lavender Road near Little India, her’s over Chinatown. The cab driver, as we later opted since we missed all our buses, kept on talking about Ferdinand Marcos and Lee Kuan Yew during their time and how things are going politically over South East Asia. It was never the easiest ride I say. All too preachy but well-educated conversation from a cab driver. I am always amazed how these conversations go this part of the world and such counts among those precious Singapore moments. But things are pretty much exhausting and mixed up that Friday; also that was when I decided to meet another friend who toured me from downtown to Bugis to Vivo City to Sentosa to Siloso Bay — everywhere! We even decided to go to the Casino if only the locker rentals for you to chuck your bag in aren’t that pricey. I never lasted ’til dusk. I went home around four in the afternoon just to really take a power nap.

While I am almost getting lost in this post let me get back to the events that Saturday. So I had a good rest and never did anything after dinner that Friday. Damn, it feels so bad thinking about how I missed that much that day.

So while I am contemplating over my loser escapades (don’t worry, it just gets much worse), I came into much more shit after trying to take a lunch over some fancy restaurant along Singapore River around Clarke Quay. It rained so hard I cannot find the place. I ended up hoping I can withdraw money so I can just get a cab to Fort Canning but my bank refused my transaction because I did not notify them in advance and I cannot make international calls because I refused to register to my network, because I really am positive I can hook up over any wifi signal over this country — which I did but I still need to verify some codes etc and texts aren’t coming. So yeah, there. I ended up eating my lunch in a McDonald’s somewhere until the rain stopped. McSpicy demmit.

Come Neon Lights Festival. 26 November 2016. Day 1.

It was raining so hard. Even caught more rain when I arrived at Fort Canning. I entered the wrong side of the venue and I need to walk around the park. I was even wet before another set started. So I only have the chance to take photographs of the live graffiti using my phone and the rest were Instagram stories — was new then so I am all too excited to use it everywhere I go.

One thing was memorable though — the sheer amount of mud, as I heard from one of those who were there, was Glastonbury-ish. Meanwhile, a mate who guided us throughout Singapore was a bit sceptical about that claim, also the crowd was a bit mellow. I should talk about this part later in this entry but I am a bit lazy to really formulate what I am putting in so I just type in whatever I get to think about.

It must be funny but I made friends. Met two people that I tagged along the entire time I was there. They’re the best. The rest of the guys I am supposed to meet were there but we never really made it together while watching Foals.

I was never excited before as I am that night. I was there only to see Foals. Nah, not really.

That day I came to see Foals. But I am amused to see both Lucy Rose and Shura on stage. I also glanced upon SBTRKT in flesh years after hearing his first feature via BBC Radio 6’s Lauren Laverne, if I am right that was a Maida Vale session. So yeah. Chairlift, being just introduced then had me wondering about their music. I missed 2MANYDJS set, but I sure had my chance to see Sugarhill Gang. Cherry on top, perhaps, was some kind of presence Alan Palomo had a.k.a. Neon Indian. Been geeking out how he does things live and I was there to see him with an army and full battle gears!

I walked my way home but this time acquainting myself about the place and how things go during night time. I came in around midnight only to hear people of different cultures talk so much, and so passionately, about world politics at the lounge. It was fun but that day I am just so tired I took the least amount of photographs and just unlovingly take my phone when I can and snap one only to see blurry or useless ones. So yeah. Day 1. DONE.

It was kind of a crazy mix, I have to admit. Both music and the arts are quite curated neatly all over the place — if only there wasn’t that much mud or rain it would have been great, but I love rains, and I do not even complain. I hated it when it started to go sunny around Day 2 but that is something else to even start talking about.

An eclectic mix of everything — and it never disappoints.

Just when people get too attached to calling this a ‘music festival’ must have missed the memo — it is a ‘music and arts festival’. oh for pete’s sake.

Sophia Natasha Wei, of all performers, had me uncomfortable. I never researched in advance what piece was she doing or what the entire thing was about but it kind of works how she does her thing while Daniella Beltrani gets to tie laces along the temporary fences that guide people up to the Fort Gate Stage. I took some videos but I have very bad settings then so I do not think any of you will care enough. That is if you are still reading up to this point.

diskodanny is among those interesting acts. People were a bit hesitant to go near him when compared to Singapore Sculpture Society — who did pretty good and interactive wood stuff by the way. I even took a picture of him tying a pregnant woman. That might sound crazy, but sure it is!

Ng Yi-Sheng. During my last day, I lounged the most inside the Rocking Horse Tent; and I am a bit late for this part when I really insisted I stay while new mates went around to take a photograph with José González. Yi-Sheng did a very nice touch of culture in his spoken poetry and such sincerity when performing poems need more than just claps.

Live graffiti from ANTZ, DEM, ROAK, SLAC, SPAZ and KILAS in Easy Street 

As you can see, I stayed most of the time in the Fort Gate area and The Rocking Horse Tent. 

27 November 2016. Day 2.

It sux, but for me, the festival’s second day is the best of all. Also, the performances for each stage had me asking which do I go first. I am so confused and tired of choosing that I procrastinated for a while that day.

On the way to the park, a guy asked me if I have some cigarette, I said no. Chap seems to be needy for a smoke but I am in Singapore. I need to remind myself that even chewing bubble gums in public is somewhat rude. I ate the best Laksa. Asked for parents to send me monies to spend for a day because, remember, I cannot withdraw from my bank. Went to a mall and notice how overseas workers spend their lazy Sundays hanging out. Saw local Chinese women dressed fancy for a photo shoot near a park bridge. Took the wrong bus. Keep walking like crazy looking at my phone trying to figure out where is north.

I never took pictures.

Initially, I went there to see BadBadNotGood but I arrived at their set almost done and so I just waited for José González and Saras Per Kristian Matsson, a.k.a. The Tallest Man on Earth.

Meanwhile, they were all soul and funk over the Fort Green stage. George Clinton brought his vibes along, while Yuna made the venue a surreal experience despite slight drizzles and the smell of mud some guys were playing to during day one. It was hella muddy everywhere.

I was a bit sick and tired that I get to miss a lot of performances during that night. I tend to ask myself if I really would push it through Sigur Ros or just take enough sleep until I board for my flight past midnight.

But I decided to stay much longer, but that I take a walk outside the venue and have a bar of chocolate — because, hey, there is nothing a chocolate cannot fix! But actually, it must have been the constant chocolate I ate during my stay that I get to feel sick. 

As per doctor’s advice, I should avoid as much as possible too many chocolates and nuts.

Yey!

So when I came back, Yuna’s set was done, there were performances in Club Minky while waiting a bit longer for Sigur Ros.

And so I came to see (or maybe something else) the best among other experiences (yet).

It was the idea of going to Laneway Festival that brought me to really want to go to Singapore, but I never really had the chance to schedule one, let alone catch a ticket sale ahead of time. And when I decided to finally go, I pitched my ideas to publishing companies and entities that follow the scene.

But they either referred me to another editor or they just ignored me.

Eventually pushing this through after documenting a local music and arts festival that same month, I thought, I will never make it that much just taking pictures. I did a portfolio, briefly, on which I had the chance to share it with people I hang out during the festival and ask friends about their thoughts about my photographs.

Was more assuring than I imagined it to be.

I will never forget that moment.

And I was alone most of the time just wandering about, really looking through what is happening. It was fun. Always fun.

This year, they announced that there will be no Neon Lights Festival. Meanwhile Clockenflap Festival is full green light over Hong Kong — another festival I thought of going back then but I chose Singapore first and opted to go this year for it. I never had the chance to push it through, though.

But I guess the trade-off was pretty good. I kind of understand my shortcomings recently. And like any rabbit with fresh batteries plugged, I will never stop doing what I feel I am alive at.

It is always surreal to hear your favourite bands perform live. And it will always be, even if it is not your favourite band, just regular good bands do really well live — I am talking about passion. That raw feeling you get when doing music, or anything you feel the joy of doing. Such a moment is worth any price you pay just to get there. It shouldn’t always be more than what you can afford, just go out there and find something. There’s a lot out there to enjoy.

As for me, Sigur Ros was not just an aural experience, it was a visual spectacle as well. I get to read a lot of their live shows being just like that. It was all worth the trouble.