#just cornered the Tumblr market

[markscherz]

a person who named a genus, on tumblr

Actually, three genera, but Anilany and Nanohyla are not as catchy as Mini. A full list of the taxa I have described is available on my website. :)

[lo-fag]

good GOD I am so angry.

I, as my bio suggests, am a minor. I am also asexual. And feeling quite dysphoric about all the adults in my life telling me ‘I wouldn’t know until I’ve tried it.’ But that’s a different topic.

I needed a little boost for myself so I looked at the asexual tag here on tumblr, so I’d feel less alone.

There are always thirst traps and other things of that kind on any popular tag. But I saw so many, on the asexual tag, that I actually cried, ripping my skin off as I did so.

There will always be people that abuse the tag system, I know. Tagging your posts with trending tags to make them more likely to show up on people’s dashes is a corporate tactic. But to see so many of these ads, I can barely call them posts, on the asexual tag, made me physically ill.

Asexuality is often overlooked by not just cishets but the LGBTQ+ community so often. To see that a safe space for positivity for such a overlooked community was being vandalised for the sake of marketing makes me so angry and so upset for myself and all the other people who fit under the umbrella of asexuality or aromantic who just want to feel like they belong.

I’m a relatively new blog, but I know how tumblr works. I know how the world works. The way the world is run means that we are all victims, and I thought that maybe society, that damned, twisted thing, could let us have a little corner to protect ourselves.

All it does is hurt. it hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts. Companies aren’t going to get new customers by ripping apart supposed safe spaces, and young asexual kids like myself aren’t going to get any validation or even feeling of home from seeing thirst traps targeted toward our community.

our community that is SPECIFICALLY DEFINED BY FEELING DIFFERENT OR NO SEXUAL ATTRACTION TO WHAT IS DEEMED ‘NORMAL’.

it’s targeted. I can tell. And I am by no means an expert, but this tag abuse is hurting everyone. And no one is doing a thing about it.

please boost this. Reblog, like, whatever. This is damaging people far more than you think, and it needs to be resolved.

thanks for hearing me

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

Maybe i’ll dust off my bandcamp and put together a Shitposts album 😸

Almost everything i’ve made in the last year is only on tumblr, and only as soundtracks to videos (which is about the least searchable/discoverable release format possible 🙃)

ohfuckohfuckohfuck fuck fuck i dropped the orb

do you think they’ll notice?

fuckfuck fuck this is coming out my next paycheck

[angelikook]

Red String of Fate

Pairing(s): Janitor and delivery person!Yoongi x college student!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, e2l-ish, college au-ish, soulmate au-ish

Word Count: 10.7k

Warning(s): Profanity, alcohol use

Summary: The red string of fate connects two enemies. However, Yoongi’s red string, which is attached to Y/n, suddenly disappears after he meets her the second time.

A/n This fic officially marks my comeback to Tumblr *insert applause here 👏* After years of hiatus, my life finally settles a bit so I can continue what I've always loved. I had so much fun writing this one. Enjoy! This fic is still unedited though, I'll edit it ASAP.

Masterlist | Join/Leave Taglist

There were three things that Yoongi wished didn’t exist. One, flat-earthers. Two, anti vaxxers. And three, the red string of fate.

During 21 years of his life, he learned that not only the red string of fate foresaw the relationship of two people, but also the fact that it predicted hostility between them and not romance like what those legends had said. Not to mention the disturbing fact that he could see them for as far as he could remember.

He’d seen his parents divorced, his two best friends fought one another, and even random people argued on the street. And what was the similarity of all of them? That damned red string that was attached between the people involved. The sure sign that those people would go their separate ways sooner or later.

As he went about his typical Saturday which consisted of getting ready for work, doing some deliveries, and depositing some money to his parents’ bank account, he noticed the absence of his red string. With an almost inhuman speed, he finished the rest of his routine and called his only friend.

The door jingled as he pushed the door open. In an instant, a smell of coffee entered his nostrils. He couldn’t help but to take a long whiff, enjoying the rich aroma.

Upon seeing him walking in, the boy who stood behind the counter grinned at him. “Take a seat. I’ll come to you in a bit.”

He strode to his favorite spot in the cafe, at the far corner near the window where he could watch the pedestrians outside.

The boy who was once behind the counter turned the store sign to ‘closed’, turned off some of the lights, and made some drinks before sauntering to Yoongi with two cups in hand.

“Sorry for meeting you at this time, Tae. I honestly don’t know what to do if you are busy.”

“No worries. It’s not like I’ve other things to do after this.” The boy placed a cup in front of Yoongi.

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbled. “Won’t your boss be angry if you have a guest here?”

“Nope. In fact, she encourages us to have guests. To introduce the cafe to more people, she said.”

“Good marketing strategy.”

“I know right. So, what do you wanna talk about?”

Yoongi told the boy in front of him about his day. From the moment he woke up, until the time he texted his friend to meet up with extra detail when he realized his string had disappeared.

He was just finished with the second to the last delivery. The lady who received the food thanked him and went back inside her house. He took it as a cue for him to continue with his last delivery.

It was when he was checking the next address when he felt something was missing.

He patted his pockets to look for his phone, wallet, and keys which were still intact. He made sure he didn’t forget the food he needed to deliver. He even checked his phone in case there was a task he’d forgotten to do.

But he found none.

With head full of confusion, trying to remember what was missing, he drove to the last address.

Five minutes away from the last place he needed to go, at a traffic light, his eyes fell to his left pinky, the place where his red string attached to him. The place where there was no longer a red string.

His eyes were big as saucers as he inspected his pinky.

During 21 years of his life, there was not a single time, as far as he knew, in which the red string ever disappeared. It could twist, bend, stretch, and become thinner, but never disappear. It could even fade sometimes, but could never vanish.

He looked around to see other road users. Their red strings were glaringly obvious. Some even had a deep red color.

He sighed though not all his worries went away.

He didn’t lose his ability, just his string.

“Oh my God! I just realized that your string is very much gone.”

“Do you have an idea of what this means? Or what caused this to happen?”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “It’s your fault for not joining our weekly meeting.”

Yoongi met Taehyung at a club specifically made for people who can see the red string. He didn’t know what made him join the club, but he could probably blame his curiosity for that.

“I have work. Plus, it’s not like you understand what’s going on either after attending them.”

“Touché. But, do you know who’s at the other end?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago.”

How stupid of him to ignore the weather forecast this morning. It said that there was going to be a thunderstorm. Yoongi just realized how accurate the forecaster was as the rain hit against the library's windows loudly.

His shift as the campus’ janitor had ended an hour ago, but since the rain didn’t let him go home and he was stupid enough not to bring an umbrella, he decided to wait in the library until the rain subside.

Every now and then, a thunder illuminated the dimly lit library before breaking in an ear-splitting noise. And every time it happened, he couldn't help but to wince even after hearing it for the nth time in the past hour.

He was sitting on the floor in the corner while gripping the encyclopedia on his lap. His mind couldn't cooperate for the last few minutes. He'd been reading the same line for countless times now and he grew agitated.

On the next aisle, a couple had been arguing for the past five minutes. And as much as Yoongi didn't like to eavesdrop, he had no headphones he could use to cover his ears.

"So, going out with my best friend behind my back was your brilliant solution?" the girl half-yelled.

They had been half-yelling the entire time. They knew that they weren't allowed to be loud here, yet they still chose a library out of all places to have an argument. That ticked Yoongi off.

"She came to me first, okay? I didn't know you weren't there. She said you were coming along," the boy defended himself.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. Of course a cheater would make up stupid reasons.

“Here’s what’s going wrong. One, you could leave her once you knew. Two, you could tell me you were with her. Three, you could cross-check with me first. And you did nothing out of all three.”

Yoongi smirked and nodded in agreement though he knew well they couldn’t see him. It was exactly what he’d say in a situation like that. He liked this girl, they had a similar way of thinking.

Yoongi suddenly grew curious at what the girl looked like. He scooted closer towards their voices and peeked between the books on the shelf.

Just like what he’d imagined, the girl was gorgeous. Or, at least as gorgeous as a sleep deprived college student can be.

She had a cute nose and lips, and bright eyes despite looking tired and sleepy. Dark eyebags and fading eyeliner decorated her eyes. Her hair glistened under the dim light, probably still wet due to the rain. Her pink lipstick also started to wear off, showing off her natural chapped lips.

The boy grew quiet for a bit. “Sorry, babe. It won’t happen again.”

She snorted. “I know. Because there’s no such thing as next time. Bye.”

As she walked off, his eyes trained down to her pinky, a habit he’d had because of the stupid ‘talent’ he had. He followed the red string on her pinky to the other end of the string, another habit he’d had because he was full of curiosity.

Most of the time he couldn’t see the other end, since enemies usually weren’t within sight with each other. This time, though, he kinda hoped that hers would connect to the boy she was dating. That way, it’d explain why they broke up.

Not as expected, her string ended on his pinky.

“Do you hate her?” Taehyung asked after sipping on his hot chocolate.

“Nope.”

“Maybe that’s why the string disappeared?” Taehyung suggested. “The string only connects enemies. Maybe if it makes a mistake like this, it’ll disappear.”

“Can the string make a mistake?”

Taehyung shrugged. “You don’t hate her, though.”

“But why didn’t it disappear right then, why today?”

Taehyung bit his lip, deep in thought. “Did something happen today?”

“Not today, but I met her yesterday.”

He was late to work and his dead watch was to blame. Somehow it slipped his mind to change the batteries and now he had to deal with his own stupidity.

As he scurried to campus, someone accidentally crashed into him from behind. His tattered bag fell and spilled its contents.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" A girl crouched beside him and helped him pick up his stuff.

"It's okay," he replied timidly.

Right as he put the last thing into his bag, the girl's friend, who since then only loomed over them in silence, clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Can you be faster? I have a presentation in 10 minutes."

When Yoongi and the girl stood up, he finally got the chance to see who the girl's friend was. Their connected red string only confirmed it further.

Since the last time Yoongi saw her, she was in a worse condition. A cup of coffee was in one hand, a laptop in the other. Her eyes were puffy and dried tears were visible in her cheeks. Unlike back then at the library, she didn't wear any makeup. She wore an old oversized sweater which looked older than Yoongi's seven years old bag with a pair of washed up jeans that were baggy in weird places.

The girl who helped him snapped back at her, "That's your own fault for having a midlife crisis this morning."

The library girl only linked her arm around the girl's arm and dragged her.

He knew she was supposed to be his enemy, but for the rest of the day Yoongi couldn't help but to wonder what happened to her. His curiosity got the best of him now that he knew she was on the other end of his string.

Did she have another relationship problem? Or maybe her ex pleaded to get back together again? Or maybe just college stuff?

"You didn't ask her name?"

"She was in a hurry,” Yoongi defended himself.

"Still. I think we need as much information as possible, and a trusted person."

"Like who?"

"Namjoon."

"The club's leader? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey! He might be the only one who knows about this ordeal."

"But you're talking to him." It wasn’t a question.

Taehyung shook his head. "No. You talk to him."

"We're talking to him."

"Fine."

Despite Namjoon’s busy schedule and Yoongi’s multiple jobs, meeting him was easier than Yoongi had initially thought. One day he just texted him and not five minutes later Namjoon replied to meet up the next day after his shift ended. Just as promised, Taehyung came as a moral support and to provide with drinks.

After hearing Yoongi’s story, which was occasionally added by Taehyung with small details, Namjoon frowned. He bit his bottom lip and his eyes became unfocused.

“Do you think you can help us?” Yoongi asked after a minute of silence, already expecting a negative answer from the way the leader was behaving.

Namjoon’s eyes focused back to Yoongi’s. “I’m not sure. I’ve read something about this, but there wasn’t any more research about that. Maybe I can ask the previous leaders and see if they know about it.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You said you knew who was on the other end. Can you bring her here? Maybe she knows something.”

“He doesn’t know her name, though,” Taehyung chimed in before Yoongi could say anything.

“That’s fine. Take as much time needed. I need to talk to the previous leaders anyway. Just tell me once you’re ready.”

“Joon,” Taehyung called him, catching his attention. “Is it possible that the string is wrong? Yoongi doesn’t hate her and that’s why the string disappeared?”

Taehyung’s question echoed in his mind for days on end. If his theory was right, then why was the string still there on the day at the library? Why didn’t it disappear right away? And what was going to happen now that his string was gone?

But one more question stood out the most to him. How could he ask for her to come with him without sounding creepy?

With the clock struck seven, his shift had ended and he could go home. He changed out of his uniform and walked towards the campus’ exit where there were some students still lingering.

He rolled his eyes at them. ‘Those kids are so lucky to be able to get an education at a place like this and they’re probably unaware of it,’ he thought.

Right as he was about to step out the door, a poster caught his eyes. More specifically, a face he’d grown to recognize just caught his eyes.

The poster was talking about a speech that was going to be held in a week’s time. The speech was going to be about the importance of vaccines and would be attended by some famous speakers. He knew one of the speakers.

It was the library girl. But unlike at the library nor in front of the campus, she wore a bright smile. She flashed her teeth, her eyes twinkled. Her makeup was perfectly done, thanks to meticulous makeup artists who took time with her face.

Underneath her photo, her name was printed in bold. Y/n L/n.

Yoongi gasped as he read her name again and again. He even tried how her name tasted in his mouth when he said it.

Her name was exactly like herself. Sweet, but not too sweet, with a hint of salty for her sharp words. It was closest to salted caramel in his mind.

But what was more important was the fact that he’d found her name. He grinned to himself at the thought. His only feat left was to talk to her and ask her to meet Namjoon.

The speech was held after the lunch break, which meant he got half a day to plan what to say to her. However, since he woke up, his mind had been a cloudy mess, he couldn’t think straight.

He tried to jot down possible things he could say to Y/n, but his clammy hand kept wetting his paper. He tried to type his thoughts on his phone, but his supervisor caught him playing on his phone and scolded him. All his efforts were futile in the end. His mind, paper, and phone notes were still as empty as they were this morning.

The night before, he’d talked to Namjoon and Taehyung, but both were as helpful as his empty mind.

“Just say whatever. It’s better if you tell her we’ll be talking about the red string,” Namjoon had said.

“Tell us how it goes, okay?” was the only thing Taehyung said.

When the time arrived, he waited in front of the campus’ hall where the speech was held.

Through the glass doors, he could see Y/n and a couple other speakers he didn’t care for. He couldn’t hear what they said, though. They took turns to speak, each more passionate than the speaker before them until the time Y/n stepped to the center of the stage.

All these time Yoongi only saw the angry, sad, and tired Y/n to the point he’d internalized the idea that she was like that most of the time. This was the first time he saw her speaking in front of hundreds of audience with a burning passion.

From outside where he couldn’t hear a single thing, he still felt moved and inspired by just seeing her hand gestures alone. He couldn’t imagine what it felt to be able to listen to her speech.

When she was done with her speech and bowed to the audience, they erupted in cheers and clapped their hands.

The event quickly ended with the MC saying some closing speech. With that, the crowd left the hall one by one not even minding Yoongi who was standing outside. Only a couple of faculty members and students still lingered inside, chatting animatedly with the speakers.

A pang of jealousy coursed through him at the sight of them. If money wasn’t a problem for him, he would have had a higher education just like these people. And to be reminded that those students were around his age made him sullen.

Among all the people inside, Y/n was the first to leave the hall. Looked like lady luck was on Yoongi’s side today since Y/n left all alone.

Yoongi quickly snatched his only chance and approached her.

“Hi. You’re Y/n, right?”

“Hi. Yeah, I am. And you are?” Her honey voice was sweeter than what he’d heard at the library. He could tell from her voice alone that her mood was definitely better than the last time he saw her.

“Yoongi. I’m the campus’ journalist.” At this point he just spewed out lies and he thought he was quite good at it. “Can we talk for a bit?”

“Sure. About what?”

“I was listening to your speech earlier,” another lie, “and I think you’re strongly opinionated,” not a lie. “I’m wondering if I can interview you? It’s gonna be about the red string.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “The red string?”

Yoongi involuntarily gulped in fear Y/n would reject him.

“I don’t think I have anything to say about that, I’m sorry.”

His heart dropped.

Y/n was about to leave when Yoongi spoke up again, “Umm… It’s okay. We’re going to compile different opinions into one anyways, so if you don’t have a lot to say about it, that’s fine.”

“Oh.” Y/n stopped in her tracks. “When’s the interview then? Is it now? Because if it’s now, I have-”

“No, don’t worry. We can have the interview anytime you’re free. Plus, I won’t be the one interviewing you, an expert or something will ask the questions and I’m just gonna sum them up.”

Y/n nodded. “Can we do it tonight? Maybe around eight after the classes end?”

Technically, Yoongi could, but he didn’t know whether Namjoon was free or not.

“I need to ask the interviewer first. Make sure they’re free and all.”

“Good!”

Yoongi pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Can I have your number?”

Asking for a girl’s number was an achievement he didn’t know he would reach.

Y/n punched in her number and gave the phone back to him. “What’s your name again?”

Yoongi put his phone back into his pocket. “Yoongi.”

The walk to the cafe Taehyung worked at was as awkward as it could get. Two people who just knew each other for a couple of hours walking together, not knowing what to say to break the tension. Not to mention this was Yoongi’s first time walking with a girl.

Yoongi didn’t know whether he should feel lucky or not with Y/n trying to start small talks between them. Lucky because he didn’t have to come up with a topic, unlucky because he had to keep building lies upon lies.

“What year are you in?” Y/n kicked a small rock away from her path.

Yoongi counted in his head. 21 years olds usually were in their third year.

“Third. You?”

“Same. What are you studying?”

“I’m in art. Music.” In his defense, he did music in his free time, so he wasn’t exactly lying.

Y/n halted in her tracks. “Music?”

Uh, oh. Did he just say something wrong?

Yoongi also stopped walking and gave Y/n a questioning look.

“As far as I know, there’s no music major here.”

“Umm… I mean I’m studying art, but also join the music club.”

Y/n started walking again. “I see.”

Yoongi sighed in relief. Nice save.

“What-” The words caught in his throat. “What about you?”

“Science.”

The interview went pretty much the same. Only a series of questions and short answers. She was right when she said she didn’t have anything to say about the red string.

“Do you believe the red string?”

“No.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much.”

“Like?”

“Some people can see it.”

“And?”

“It connects soulmates.”

Yoongi stifled a laugh. If only life wasn’t so cruel, it would happen.

“What if I tell you I can see the red string?”

Y/n shrugged. “Good for you.”

“You don’t wanna know to whom yours is connected?”

And other questions that Yoongi had tuned out in boredom. From his peripheral vision, Y/n was holding back a yawn as if to confirm to him that the interview was indeed boring. The now cold coffee in front of them did nothing to keep them alert.

Thanks to his ability to ignore his surroundings for long periods of time, the interview came to an end before he knew it.

Namjoon glanced at the clock before closing his notebook. “It’s almost 10. Sorry to keep you until late.” He stood up and shook Y/n’s hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

“No problem,” Y/n said, though her eyes were starting to droop.

Yoongi was trying hard to hold his smile. It was a rare sight to see someone so tired they barely could keep their eyes open.

Worry and realization clawed at his heart at the sight of Y/n. With a little money he had in his pocket, he had to pay for her favor. Not pay directly with money, because that would be rude. But maybe give her something that she needed.

As if on cue, he heard Y/n’s stomach rumble as they said their goodbyes.

That was it! He could buy her food as a thank you.

He only had money to feed one person, though. It was supposed to be his dinner.

Yoongi bit his lip in confusion. He needed to pay tonight because he didn’t know if they were going to meet again. Plus, going without food for one night wouldn’t be that bad for his health, right? He could just start breakfast earlier the next morning.

He had made up his mind.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna eat?” Y/n asked after swallowing her burger. In front of her, Yoongi could only stare at her food while drooling.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can take my fries.” She pushed her fries towards Yoongi. “I don’t eat fries. They make me fat.”

He gratefully shoved one into his mouth, savouring it before chewing on it. “And burger doesn’t?”

“Well, it contains meat and lettuce, so it’s not 100% carbs.”

Yoongi silently nodded though he was sure a burger contains more calories.

“How come I never see you on campus?” Y/n asked.

They had been walking towards her place for a while and Y/n refused an awkward silence to fill the air.

“We’re in different buildings, remember?”

This wasn’t a lie. Yoongi indeed worked most of the time in the arts building, a solid 100 meters away from the science building.

“Right. I keep forgetting that. Sorry.” Y/n giggled. As cliché as that sounds, her laugh sounded like bells in his ears.

“Don’t be sorry. No one really cares about art majors.”

Her giggles died down. “I care. I think art is a great way to make a statement. Not to mention it transcends all language barriers. A great media to change the world, isn’t it?”

That was definitely a view of art that Yoongi had never heard before. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t stunned at her words.

“Wow,” Yoongi eventually blurted. No wonder she was giving a speech a few hours ago.

Y/n stopped in front of a huge gate belonging to an apartment building before turning to him.

“Thank you for the food and for taking me home. I owe you one.” She smiled.

“No. Take the food as a thank you for helping me with my article.” At this point, lies came flowing out of his mouth. “And taking you home is just something normal everyone does.”

“Still. I gave you a favor, but you gave me two. It’s only right if I pay you somehow.”

“I want to, though. It helps me sleep at night.”

Yoongi stared at Y/n’s eyes. They were droopy and red from sleepiness, but still held sincerity. Before he drowned in her eyes, he pulled himself back and nodded.

“Okay.”

That night, Yoongi fell asleep with a half-empty stomach and a full heart.

The next few days went by as usual. Wake up, get ready, go to work, go home, sleep. No Namjoon, no Y/n, nor Taehyung in his mind. He was truly back to his boring life before his string disappeared.

The only difference was the ringing noise of Y/n’s words in his ears. ‘Art is a great way to make a statement.’

All these times, he only did art—music—because it was all he knew. He’d known of the possibility of making a statement with music, people had brought politics and social issues into their songs, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge himself with those issues. He always thought that only famous or rich people were allowed to make such statements.

Yoongi’s next interaction with Y/n was in the form of a text.

Hey, Yoon. Sorry for disturbing you. But I’m curious whether my interview will make it to the campus’ newspaper.

He quickly made up another lie.

Hey. It’s fine. The team decided to change the topic, sorry. Kinda sad, I know.

Y/n instantly replied.

But you’ve worked hard for this! Can’t you say anything to them?

Oh, how he wished he could. Problem was, he wasn’t even a student here.

No convincing will do. They have made up their mind.

Y/n sent in two messages.

That’s inefficient journalism, wasting perfectly good interviews.

Before he got the chance to read Y/n’s second message, his supervisor warned him to put his phone down.

He only got the chance to read the message after his shift ended.

I think it’s the right time for me to pay you back, don’t you think?

Ice cream definitely wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind when Y/n said she wanted to pay him back. He was thinking something like paying for his bus ride home, or maybe buying him some food just like what he did for her. Basically anything that would be more useful than just a sweet dessert that couldn’t even fill an empty stomach.

He wasn’t one to complain, though. In his defense, he hadn’t had one in a long time; he didn’t even remember when was the last time he ate one. He was rather happy to break his long streak with Y/n.

“Something’s wrong with the journalism club,” Y/n said before putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“How so?”

Y/n waved her spoon around. “How redundant to have a person interview a bunch of people only to change the topic in the end?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Things happen.”

“Does this happen often? If yes, that’s crazy.”

“I don’t think so.”

Y/n snorted. “You probably wanna keep your club’s secret. I understand.” Y/n angrily scooped her ice cream. “Aren’t you angry at being mistreated like this?”

“To be honest, I don’t care. It’s not like I like this club anyways.”

“You should leave the club, then. Do something you actually like instead of rotting in that club.”

Yoongi just nodded. What else could he do? He wasn’t even a member to begin with.

“What do you like to do? You said something about the music club.”

“Yeah. I do music in my free time although I’m not that active in the club.”

“Do you do gigs?”

Finally a topic he didn’t need to lie about.

Yoongi answered after he swallowed, “I don’t do that type of music. I don’t perform. I produce music.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “This is the first time I know a music producer. What's it like to produce music?”

Yoongi told her about the first time he learned how to produce music, who taught him that, and even where he learned that. He was 13 at the time and a neighbor offered to show him how to produce music. It was the first time he knew music, it was love at first sight.

“I think it’s great for you to know what you wanna do,” Y/n commented after he finished his story.

“That’s the thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to pursue it deeper but I don’t know how.”

“You can take up producing jobs?” she suggested.

It was time for him to open up. “There’s this entertainment company looking for an intern, but I don’t know if I can squeeze some time for that.”

Y/n’s face that was once relaxed, now became stern. “Are you sure you want to produce music your whole life?”

It was the same question his parents had asked him when he told them he wanted to do music.

He nodded.

The creases in Y/n’s face disappeared as she leaned back in her seat. “There you have it. Clear up your schedule and run for your dreams. If it’s worth it, you make time for it.”

That was the cue he needed to send his CV.

Despite his protests of not wanting to disturb her time, Y/n met Yoongi after her classes ended just a few days after he sent his CV.

Y/n grinned immediately upon seeing Yoongi in front of the campus’ gates.

“Have you seen the results?”

Yoongi shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“What are you waiting for? Open it!” Y/n peered into Yoongi’s phone.

With clammy, shaky hands, he opened the email and read the message.

Dear Min Yoongi,

We’ve read your CV and would like to discuss more with you on Tuesday, July 6th, 2021 at 13:00.

Regards,

Go Youngjae

He was still registering the message and rereading it over and over again when Y/n jumped and yelled, “This calls for a celebration!”

Y/n, her yellings, and people watching them thinking they were weirdos were all around him, yet his mind was clouded with the words from the message.

Only when Y/n grabbed his shoulders to grab his attention he was brought back to reality.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Huh? A celebration?”

Y/n nodded so enthusiastically he worried she would accidentally hurt her neck.

“Okay, then.”

Y/n took a sip of her beer. “I’m jealous of you.”

Around them were bustling with people coming home from their work to eat.

“How?”

“You’re talented enough to achieve your dreams.”

“I’m not accepted yet.”

“Yet,” Y/n emphasized. “It’s just a matter of time before you work there.”

Yoongi frowned. “What do you wanna do then?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know,” she whisper-yelled before taking a large gulp of beer. “And people think we’re adults who are supposed to know what we’re doing.” Y/n snorted.

Yoongi sipped on his own beer while nodding. Sometimes people around him forgot that he was a 21 years old kid who still needed guidance on life. Just because he had two jobs, didn’t mean he knew what he was doing.

“Are you happy with your life right now?” he asked.

Y/n shrugged. “I’d like to think so.”

“Then keep doing what you’re doing.” He knew his advice didn’t help, but he wasn’t graced with the talent to console people.

“I can’t keep being a student.” Y/n laughed in frustration. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “In a year, we’ll graduate. And then what? It’s all black for me while you’re interning. At least you have direction while I’m still as blind as a bat.”

“That sounds depressing.”

“Because it is!” Y/n whined before taking another sip. “Sorry to ruin your celebration with my sad girl problems. Let’s just talk about you.”

Oh, Y/n didn’t know how much he’d rather have his celebration ruined by Y/n than to celebrate on his own.

In between her fading makeup, he could see Y/n’s face started to turn pinkish. Out of courtesy, he gently pulled her beer away from her.

“I think you’re tipsy.”

“No, I’m not.” Y/n reached back for her beer but it was out of reach. “Give it back.”

He argued with something he knew she wouldn’t refute, “You’ll ruin our celebration even further if you’re drunk.”

That kept her sober for the rest of the night.

“I think you’re too keen for celebrations,” Yoongi commented as he eyed Y/n with a bottle of wine. He didn’t even want to know how much it cost a fortune to buy that.

“Who doesn’t like to celebrate?” Y/n sat on her couch and patted the space beside her. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down!”

It was just a few hours after his interview. While he didn’t want to assume how well it went, Y/n believed it went pretty well. In her defense, had the interview gone wrong, he wouldn’t be here in her apartment, he would be crying away in his bedroom. Thus, Y/n convinced him to have another celebration.

Y/n couch was soft to the touch and probably cost more than his kidneys, he felt bad of having to sit on it and potentially dirtying it. But Y/n didn’t pay attention to it while she poured the wine into his glass.

“We have work tomorrow.” He immediately corrected himself with a cough. “Class, I mean.”

“We won’t drink a lot.” She handed him his glass. “Just one glass.”

Yoongi took the glass. “Just one glass.”

But of course one glass turned to two, and three, and a morning full of confusion and hangover.

Yoongi woke up startled. He sat up and gasped for air. His head was killing him, as if someone was hammering his head. His throat was dry, as dry as the desert. More importantly, he didn’t know where he was until the memory of the night before came rushing into his head.

Y/n pouring his drink, laughing at something silly he said, leaned closer and closer to him as her awareness slipped away little by little. And the feeling of her chapped lips on his.

He choked on his saliva. Did he really just kiss her? Or was it just a dream?

His fingers lingered on his lips, trying to remember the taste of Y/n’s lips.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a familiar voice emerged from the kitchen. “Are you thinking about the kiss?”

Yoongi stared at the girl sitting on the dining table.

“Relax, nothing happened. Just a drunken kiss.” She shrugged before shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

How could she talk about the kiss so lightly? Or maybe he was reading too much into it while the kiss really didn’t mean anything.

“Does that happen often?” he croaked. He winced, he really needed to drink.

As if reading his mind, Y/n grabbed a glass of water and gestured to it, ushering him to take it.

Yoongi slowly got up from the couch, hissed when his headache flared, and walked to the dining table.

“Being drunk or the kiss?”

“The drunken kiss.”

She snorted. “Can you believe it? I don’t get drunk that often and I don’t kiss people every time I’m drunk.”

“You were almost drunk a few days ago.” Yoongi took a seat in front of her.

“Almost. Not completely black out drunk like last night.”

With how nonchalant Y/n seemed, Yoongi blurted out the burning question, “Doesn’t the kiss mean anything to you?”

“I’d like to believe that a drunken kiss means nothing.” She shrugged. “We’re drunk, we can’t even recall it. A meaningful kiss is not a kiss you easily forget.”

“And if you’re drunk but still remember it?”

“Is it still meaningful if the person you kiss doesn't remember it?"

Just like how it always had been, Y/n’s words rang through his ears for days. When he was scrubbing the walls, mopping the floor, taking the trash out, and even on the weekends when he had deliveries.

Not only her words, but the taste of her dry lips and the way she leaned to him etched permanently in his mind. The way she poured him a drink, the way she lazily ate her breakfast. He memorized it all like a fanatic memorizing the Bible. Not leaving a single detail out.

It was just a matter of time until he decided to take action against it.

“I can’t do this. I need to come clean with her.”

The time happened to be a week after the kiss after Taehyung’s cafe closed for the day.

“What? Who? Why? What happened?”

“I think I’m starting to like her, hard. Y/n, I mean.”

Taehyung gave him a meaningful look.

“Don’t give me that look,” Yoongi groaned. “I know it’s wrong because we’re supposed to be enemies. But she’s so fascinating, you know.”

“Tell me about it.”

“She has this… different views of things.”

Taehyung nodded understandingly. “Of course. A quirky girl who can change you. Like an unoriginal love story.”

Yoongi thought, had Y/n been there with them, she would say something along the lines of, "That what makes those movies realistic, doesn't it? Real people don't fight zombies for love."

His mind had been poisoned with the thought of her.

“She’s not just quirky, okay,” he protested, though he didn’t know whether he was defending himself or Y/n. “She’s not quirky at all. In fact, she’s the typical college student.”

“The rich, spoiled one?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“The rich and spoiled one.” Yoongi nodded while chuckling, remembering your fear of adulthood and your lavish apartment.

“I don’t know, dude. But whether you like her or not, or even love her, you still need to come clean.”

Yoongi quieted down at the thought of having to confess his lies to Y/n.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

What was he scared of? To be honest, he didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to confess his feelings or anything. Just coming clean that he wasn’t a student, but a janitor. That he wasn’t a broke college student, just broke.

Maybe he feared the unknown. He was entering a whole new territory he had never been to.

He’d made up lies upon lies to the person he thought he would never kiss, would never be addicted to. Would never wonder how their day went or if they had breakfast.

He was stupid. Stupid for making up those lies, stupid of ever wondering about his red string, stupid for getting involved too deep with Y/n. His supposed-to-be enemy, a person he should’ve avoided. Stupid for catching feeling with her.

He wanted to kick himself, or Taehyung, or even Namjoon. Himself because he made up those lies. Taehyung because he supported him. Namjoon because he pushed him to come up with anything.

But he knew one thing for sure. If Y/n left him after his confession, he would never forgive himself.

He was going to keep his secret a little longer. If Y/n leaving him was inevitable, at least he had delayed it as long as possible.

Y/n’s life must only contain college and celebrations.

After the results came back—he was officially an intern—Y/n wanted to hold another celebration in his stead.

“We must celebrate every milestone in our lives,” she had said.

Going by her motto, he reluctantly agreed to have another celebration. This time in the form of a small party. So small, only three people were involved. Y/n, Taehyung, and himself.

“Taehyung is your barista friend, right?” Y/n asked enthusiastically when Yoongi told her about his plans. “I always wanted to work part time as a barista,” she sighed dreamily.

Y/n was in charge of the drinks—Yoongi told her not to bring alcoholic drinks. Taehyung was with the take out food. And Yoongi was going to host the party in his house.

He hoped his mom wouldn’t mind having his friends come over.

In fact, his mom was the complete opposite. She was too hyper in his opinion.

First of all, his mom literally bonked him in his head with a vegetable spoon. “Had you told me about it, I’d make some food.”

Second of all, she embarrassed him in front of Y/n. “Yoongi here never told me that he has a pretty friend like you.”

Third of all, she started playing matchmaker. “Are any of you dating Yoongi? No? I think he looks good with Y/n, don’t you think, Taehyung?”

Yoongi had had enough.

“Mom,” he groaned. “Please, stop.”

His mom giggled. “Alright, alright. I’m going back to my room. After you’re done, clean everything up, okay.”

“So, Tae,” Y/n immediately opened her mouth after Yoongi’s mom left, “Is your boss looking for a part-timer?”

“I don’t think so. She never mentions anything about that.”

Y/n nodded sadly. “If she ever looks for a part-timer, can you tell me? I’m interested.”

“Sure.”

Y/n eyes lit up. “Oh my God, really?” She laughed. “I owe you one.”

Taehyung waved his hand dismissively, “Nah, I don’t mind helping out a friend.”

“Are we friends?”

Taehyung shrugged. “A friend of my friend is my friend.”

Y/n clapped in excitement. “That’s what I think, too! I think we’re going to be great friends.”

While they were having a conversation, Yoongi only listened and imagined a life without Y/n. A life after he confessed. His parties would just be filled with silence. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if he would ever throw a party ever again.

But then another thought popped up. This one was more urgent like a ticking time bomb.

He had to leave his current job, and Y/n, to work at his new place.

No matter if he told her or not, she would eventually be out of his life.

The question had changed, then. It used to be when he was going to tell the truth. Now, it was whether he wanted to leave her on a good note or not.

“Hey.” Y/n touched his arm lightly to pull him from his thoughts. “Are you okay? Why are you so glum?”

Yoongi just shook his head, not trusting his own voice.

“Are you sure?” She frowned.

“Y/n, prepare the fruit punch! Let’s have a toast for Yoongi,” Taehyung said, catching both of their attention.

Soon after his friend said that, Y/n’s warm touch left his arm.

Though the party only ended when both of his guests went home, the fun part of the party left with Y/n. It was marked by her phone rings.

She quickly tossed her stuff into her bag and explained, “It’s my alarm. I have an assignment I forgot to do and a class early in the morning.”

“You’re going home now?” Taehyung’s glass of half-full fruit punch looked sad in his hand.

She sighed. “I’m sorry for ruining the party.” She looked at Yoongi. “Again.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi replied. “How will you get home, though? It’s dark outside.”

“I’ll call a cab.” Y/n slung her bag over her shoulder. “Tell your mom I say thank you for having me.”

With one last glance at Yoongi, she left.

“What does she mean by ‘again’?” Taehyung dared to fill the silence.

Yoongi explained everything. About the burger after her interview, the ice cream, the beer and Y/n’s sob story, the interview and the drunken kiss, and this party. All the while Taehyung listened to every word he said.

“You can’t keep her in the dark. She’s too nice and sincere,” Taehyung finally said.

“I’ll leave her anyway. I can’t keep my job at the campus while being an intern.”

“And never tell her the truth? That’s cruel, dude.”

“It’s either that, or she hates me for the rest of her life.” With a choked voice, he added, “I don’t want her to hate me.”

“You can’t possibly think of that.” Taehyung shook his head. “You’re selfish if you do that.”

“Is it wrong to be happy?” Yoongi cried.

“Yes, if you’re sacrificing her trust. Your happiness is just a lie.”

“But you were the one encouraging me to talk to her back then!”

“Had I known you were going to fall with her, I would have told you to be honest.”

He shook his head, refusing to listen to his friend’s words. He had made up his mind and there was no need for Taehyung to make him doubt his choice.

“I’m going to enjoy my time with her as long as possible.”

Taehyung’s next word, however, echoed in his mind. “You’re going to regret this.”

You’re going to regret this. The words kept ringing in his ears, just like Y/n’s words. But unlike hers that was soothing, this was hot and painful. He deserved it, though. He needed a constant reminder that he was living his best life at the expense of Y/n, her trust, and Taehyung.

“So, there’s this opening party for a new club this weekend.” Y/n stirred her tea with her straw. “And I need a plus one. I’d ask my friend, but she has a seminar or something.”

As Taehyung’s words screamed in his mind, Yoongi asked, “You want me to come with you?”

“Well, if you’re okay with that. We won’t be there long, I promise. I just wanna say hi and stuff.”

You’re going to regret this.

“Sure. What should I wear?”

Y/n shrugged. “Anything comfy. It’s just like a normal frat party at someone’s house.”

Yoongi had never been to a frat party.

By the time they arrived, the party had already started. The music blared out loud, Yoongi was sure the neighbors were filing a complaint. Inside, people were dancing, singing, and playing drinking games.

Yoongi winced when a drunk person hit him accidentally.

This wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Y/n had been long gone from his side, being dragged away from him right when they passed the door. He remembered Y/n flashing him an apologetic smile and mouthed to him, “I’ll be back.”

She’d be back. All he needed to do was stay exactly where he was and don’t catch other people’s attention. He wouldn’t want an art student to recognize him.

“Hey, I think I know you,” the drunk person from earlier slurred.

Yoongi cursed under his breath. So much for trying to stay low profile.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi replied, trying to get away from him, but he instead grabbed his arm.

“Yes, I do. I’ve seen you somewhere.” He called his friends over. “Do you know this guy?”

Gulping, Yoongi saw some of them nodded while the others shook their heads.

“I’m sure I’ve seen him before.” The drunk guy frowned, trying to remember where he met Yoongi. “Did you watch our speech?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. There was no way this dude was a speaker there. He didn’t recall him at all.

“What’s going on here?” A booming voice came from behind him.

Yoongi turned around and sighed in relief when his eyes met with Y/n’s.

“Y/n! Have you ever met this guy?” The drunk guy pointed to him.

“Yes! He’s my friend. Get away from him.” Y/n yanked the guy’s hand off of Yoongi’s arm.

“Okay, geez.” The guy raised his hands in surrender and walked away.

Once the guy was out of ear sight, Y/n hissed, “What were you thinking? He’s a person you don’t wanna get involved with.”

“He approached me first,” Yoongi defended himself.

Y/n shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just try not to get too close with him.” Y/n whispered in his ears, “He’s a fuckboy.”

Y/n took his hand and was about to pull him out of the party when suddenly another drunk guy stopped them.

Yoongi immediately recognized the boy to be Y/n’s ex, the one she was talking to back at the library.

“Y/n!” he called, pretending to be surprised, but Yoongi could see straight to him. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

Y/n snorted. “That’s supposed to be my line. Now, get out of my way.”

“No way. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I miss you.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “And I don’t. If you have some kind of self respect, please go away.”

“There’s no way you don’t miss me. Are you seeing someone else?” The boy nodded his head towards Yoongi. “Him?”

Y/n gave her ex a straight face for a few seconds. But then her face lightened up as she whispered to Yoongi, “Play along.”

“Yes!” she answered while linking her arm around Yoongi’s. “I’m with him.”

It was the ex’s turn to furrow his eyebrows.

He checked out Yoongi. From his face, down to his clothes and shoes. Scepticism was evident on his face.

“He doesn’t look very loaded,” the ex commented, much to Yoongi’s dismay.

Y/n shrugged. “At least he’s smarter than you.”

The ex’s attention was back on Y/n. Yoongi finally could draw a deep breath.

“He can’t possibly make you happy.”

“And your cheating ass can? Get out of my face.” Y/n pushed the ex away to the point he stumbled.

As Yoongi and Y/n walked past him, the ex yelled, “I’m marking your face, remember that.”

“Whatever. Just ignore him,” Y/n said.

“I’m assuming he’s your ex?” Yoongi asked though he already knew the answer. He could recognize the lanky boy anywhere.

“Yep. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did a lot by staying quiet.” Y/n chuckled softly as she shook her head. “He was looking for a fight, your silence confused him.”

“Why did you come to this party if it’s filled with problematic people?” he asked.

“I need to at least stop by. The club was my idea, after all.” Y/n shrugged. “Plus, not everyone there was problematic. Some are nice.”

Yoongi nodded. “I see.”

Y/n sighed. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Resigning was another problem he had to deal with. First of all, he needed to make a letter of resignation which he didn't know how to make. Second of all, he had to print the letter though he didn’t have any printers. Third of all, he had to face his manager whom he only met once.

His manager stared deep into Yoongi’s eyes after reading his letter. “You have a new job?”

“Yes.”

“When will you start working there?” His boss tossed his letter to the trash can.

So much for trying to make a good letter.

“Two weeks from now.”

His boss pursed his lips for a moment before answering, “Okay, then. You may leave.”

“Thank you.”

Once he was outside his boss’ room, Yoongi exhaled in relief. His current job was coming to an end.

And so was his friendship with Y/n.

Three days before Yoongi left his current job, Y/n wanted to meet him in front of the campus after her class ended. He didn’t know why she wanted to meet him. After all, all she sent was a short text.

Meet me at 7 at the usual spot. Important!

He couldn’t help but to feel a sinking feeling at her last word. Did she find out about who he actually was? Or about the red string?

He was going to get his questions answered soon since he could already see the back of Y/n’s head.

But he didn’t even get the chance to greet her when Y/n turned around to face him and shoved her phone in front of Yoongi. A photo of him in a janitor uniform while holding a broom was displayed.

Yoongi stopped in his tracks and gasped. His eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Where did you get that?” Inside his deepest mind, he knew who’d taken the picture.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“I-”

“This is edited, right?” Her voice wavering, eyes brimming with tears. “You’re just a student just like me. Right?” She sounded desperate. Desperate to believe that Yoongi wasn’t lying to her.

All Yoongi could do was to look down and shake his head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she sniffled. “I trusted you.”

“I wanted to tell you but I was looking for the right moment.”

“Bullshit! That’s all what they say. Have you ever thought of me as a friend?” She stared at Yoongi with so much venom in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n wiped her tears aggressively. Her mascara started to run down her cheeks. She looked similar to the day at the library. The day Yoongi was making fun of her ex for being stupid. But this time, he was the stupid one.

“Stop saying sorry, dammit! What part of you are real? Are the company, the email, your internship all lies? Your ambitions, too?” At this point, her tears flowed freely down her face. “Answer my questions!” she yelled ferociously, not minding about passersby who stopped to watch them.

Yoongi really wanted to spill everything. From the library, the connected red string, then when it disappeared, the speech, and the friendship he’d gotten from it. But his mouth was sealed. Closed with the weight of the words.

With the lack of an answer, Y/n shove her phone back into her bag. She nodded and sniffled one last time.

“You’re just like my ex. A liar. A dirty, dirty liar.” She laughed sourly. “You know what’s funny?”

Yoongi shook his head.

“The fact that my ex was right all along. You can’t make me happy.” She visibly gulped, trying to hold back her tears. “Thanks for the friendship all this time. Goodbye.”

Just like that, she left his life without a trace.

Each word coming from her mouth attacked him like bullets. And it only hurt more every time he replayed it. He liked the pain, though. He deserved it after ruining his second friendship. He deserved it after hurting his friend.

The remaining days at his current job dragged on. He couldn’t focus at all. He kept forgetting his tasks, forgetting to turn off the ACs after the classes were over, getting scolded by his supervisor.

Not to mention that he found out Y/n had blocked him on every single of his social media, effectively cutting any means of communication.

“The manager told me you’re leaving. But I don’t want you to slack off,” his supervisor once said.

He wanted to scream at his supervisor, his manager, anyone that there was a giant tear in his heart. His heart was bleeding and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The best he could do was show up to work. But just like at the night when Y/n confronted him, his mouth was shut tight.

That same day, Namjoon visited him after his shift ended. While there was a twinkle in the leader’s eyes, Yoongi’s eyes were filled with void.

“I’m done with my research,” Namjoon said.

Yoongi sighed. He just wanted Namjoon to say whatever he had to say and leave him alone. Better if Namjoon cursed him too before he left.

“You’re actually in a good place.”

Yoongi wanted to laugh at that. Oh, the irony.

“She’s no longer your enemy. But, you're in a grey area right now. Play your cards right, and you'll find your true love. Take a step wrong, and you'll make a new enemy.”

“Look.” It was the first time he opened his mouth in front of Namjoon. “I know you’re just trying to help. But it’s too late.” He bit his bottom lip. “I already made her an enemy.”

Instead of curses, Yoongi was getting a warm, knowing smile.

“It’s to be expected, actually. Your string was attached to her, after all. I never said it was easy to make her your true love. Only that it was a possibility.”

“Then, do I still have the chance to-” He didn’t need to finish his question for Namjoon to know what he wanted to say.

“Since you’re no longer attached to her, your enemy status is not permanent.” Namjoon laughed. “So, I’d say, go for it.”

Yoongi stared at the ground in disbelief. Warmth emerged from his heart, where emptiness was once, and spreaded throughout his body.

“But she hates me,” he whispered.

“I’m not a counselor. But you might have a chance, if deep down she feels the same.”

That was the problem. He didn’t know if she felt the same.

On his last day, Yoongi was packing his stuff up from his locker, shoving it mindlessly into his old duffle bag.

His supervisor was leaning against the locker beside him with an envelope in hand.

“You’re actually leaving, huh?”

“I don’t break promises.” Yoongi zipped up his bag and closed the locker.

His supervisor handed him the envelope. “Here’s your pay. Thanks for working with us.”

With a curt smile, Yoongi accepted the money. His job here was done.

He was about to leave the perimeter of the campus, promising himself not to look back for the last time, when he heard someone shout his name. Someone he had been dying to talk to. Someone he’d be willing to break his promises for.

He turned around and came face to face with the owner of the voice.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Yoongi gestured to Y/n to talk first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain first. I was too caught up in my emotions.”

“No worries. It’s nothing compared to lying.”

“I've already come to terms with it. You were probably scared. It happens to the best of us.”

Yoongi nodded. “I was. This is better, actually. I don’t need to hide the truth anymore.”

“What were you scared of?”

He took a moment to respond. “I guess, being rejected.” It came out more like a question.

Y/n frowned. “Why would I reject you?”

“In my mind, you’re rich and amazing and perfect, basically everything a person wants to be. And because of that, I’m scared you’d think of me as being less than you.”

Y/n snorted. “I’m not perfect. My life is fucked up in its own way. I just never tell anyone about it.”

His mind reverted back to Y/n’s fight with her ex back at the library, and again at the party.

“I would never think of you less. Even if you lied to me.” Y/n flashed him a genuine smile, a sign that he had been forgiven. “Mistakes happen so we can learn from them. What’s important is that at least we acknowledge that and learn to be better.”

Yoongi nodded. He knew her words would ring in his ears for days as usual.

“May I know who took the photo?” he asked.

“My ex.”

His suspicion was confirmed. Somehow he felt even more at peace.

“He marks my face, no wonder.”

“I already told him not to mess with you again.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” Y/n shook her head.

Y/n looked down at the duffle bag in his hand. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yeah. It’s time for me to move on with my life.” ‘And move on from you’, he added in his mind.

“Do you wanna grab ice cream for the last time? For old time’s sake?”

Y/n scooped her ice cream as she said, “Stupidly, I forgot to give you the chance to explain yourself. Again.”

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Y/n dropped her spoon. “It is for me. So for my sake, please explain.”

Just like that, Yoongi blurted everything out. Letting out everything that had been pulling him down. The fight at the library, the interview, and everything happened after that. Including the red string.

“Wait, red string?” Y/n furrowed her eyebrows.

“Right. You don’t believe the red string actually exists, do you? Well, I can see it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened as big as saucers. “Are you making up another lie?”

“Unfortunately, that’s the truth.”

Y/n leaned back in her chair as she snorted. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“Well, if you don’t believe me, you can ask Taehyung. You believe him, right?”

“Yeah, he’s still my friend.” She blinked her eyes repeatedly. “But what does that have anything to do with him?”

“He can see them, too. That’s how we know each other, actually.”

Y/n laughed in surprise. “I’m surrounded by crazy people.”

“We’re not crazy!” Yoongi searched for Taehyung’s contact in his phone. “Just talk to him first.”

After one ring, Taehyung picked up the call.

“Why are you calling me? I don’t want to talk to you until you’re telling her the truth.”

“I’m doing that right now, but I need your help.”

“For what?”

“Tell her about the red string, our red string, and the fact that we can see them because she doesn’t trust me.”

A shuffling sound could be heard in the background. “Okay. Give her the phone.”

During the entire phone call, Y/n was mostly nodding while saying, “Yes”, or, “Sure, or, “I understand.” Some questions were also thrown around like, “Mine was attached to Yoongi?”, and, “Mine disappeared?”

A few minutes later, the call ended and Yoongi’s phone was back in his hand.

“Wow,” that was all she said.

“So, do you believe me now?” Yoongi bit his bottom lip.

“Now I understand why you lied to me.” Y/n giggled. “Had you not lied to me, I wouldn’t come with you.”

“That was what went in my head at the time.”

“But what if I believed the red string? Or if I could see them?” Y/n teased before shoving her ice cream into her mouth.

Yoongi was stunned for a while. “I’d like to not think about that.”

Y/n laughed so loud it was etched into his head permanently.

The ice cream date could only go so long before they had to part ways and go home.

“So, this is goodbye?” he asked nervously, the duffle bag still clasped in his hands.

Y/n shook her head and smiled. “No. I believe this is a ‘see you later’.”

“See you later, then?”

“See you. When you’re famous, please have a collab with me so I can be famous, too.”

Yoongi let out a genuine laugh for the first time since the fight with Y/n.

Though parting and saying goodbye were never his forte, at least he could let out a laugh. He wouldn’t want his ‘see you later’ ruined with tears or sobs.

Not only Y/n’s laugh was stuck in his mind, the way Y/n’s hand flicked when she waved at him would also be another memory of her he treasured the most.

He swore to himself he still remembered the way to the administration office, but somehow all memories of the campus suddenly disappeared once he went past the gates.

As he was trying to recall where the administration office was, his thoughts were interrupted with a loud cheer coming from a group of girls in graduation gowns.

He frowned and stared at the group, showing his displeasure.

“Wait, Yoongi?” A girl ran away from the group and hugged him, making him stagger.

Yoongi was about to scold whoever just hugged him when his eyes landed on a familiar face. It was Y/n, his old crush.

“Y/n?” He stared at her attire. “You’re graduating?”

Y/n nodded while flashing her teeth at him. “Surprise!”

“You didn’t tell me you’re graduating.”

“Well, it’s been a year since we last met, right? It’s time for me to graduate. I’m sick of this place.” Y/n glared at him while pointing to the map he was holding. “And you didn’t tell me you’re a student here.”

“It’s only right to study here after working here.”

“Still! What about your work?”

“My boss wants me to pursue a higher education.”

“Oh, I see.” Y/n turned around to look at her friends before facing back to Yoongi. “I’m almost done with my stuff.” Her eyes glistened in mischief.

With a bored look, Yoongi asked, “What do you have in mind?”

He still remembered how outgoing Y/n was. It was something he liked about her.

“You finish whatever you need to do, then meet me at our usual spot, then we go for ice cream. What do you think?”

“Is it another celebration?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.”

Yoongi’s smile was enough as an answer.

[Masterlist]

[Taglist]

@lyoongx @jjddk @babeejeon @thehopelessromanticclub @okvmv

Join/leave my taglist here

[edgeray]

HI, first of all, i love your write so much 💕💕💕💕💕, you're so creative, please, as long as you feel good writing, write!!! You are very good at it, and you feed Arle stans so weel.

Second, did you by any chance watched bridgerton ? If not, just ignore it, it's more to give a historical context (and dresses in beautiful scenery, for sure). Bridgerton is a period show (and books) that takes place at the beginning of the 19th century (1810-1820) [Although, I think Arlecchino would fit even more within the context of the Victorian age, but I think it might be an idea saved for another request]. Given the context, I believe my request becomes clearer :

Arlecchino who pretends to be a man (dressing and acting like one) to get married to the reader.

It's not news to anyone that Arlecchino is part of a powerful nobility family and it's also not news to anyone that she hates playing the female role given to her (and I can't imagine her wearing the fluffy dress ever!!!!), so seeing her childhood best friend become the diamond of the season (basically the favorite debutant of the season for both the queen and the suitors, in a very short way) She realizes that she needs to enter the marriage market too, in this case to fight for your hand.

Please feel free to change any part of the order, I don't want this to become boring for you to write.

So thank you for share your works and read it, (can i?) 🪷anon.

Courting a Lie

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N- Of course you can be 🪷 anon! Thank you for your kind words. I aim to feed. Arle for everyone!! Sorry that this is super late… I will assume the reader is female for this because a debutant is a woman. Also didn't know how to make it GN! since there's no gender neutral aristocratic titles as far as I know. Sorry GN! readers :(  While I haven't watched Bridgerton, from your description of the era, I've read quite a few manhwas set in a European aristocratic society that sounds just like this. I get the general gist of what you're saying from those manhwas so I drew some inspiration from there.  I've never really written for a historical fiction AU so we shall see how this goes. Apologies in advance if it is cringe. I did change a few things for the plot, but not because it was boring, more because of my own plot/backstory building. I actually had a lot of fun researching random bits for this request, and this request is among my most developed and thoughtful works on Tumblr! Still don't know how to dialogue though… I really liked writing this kind of setting so I would be pretty happy if a part 2 of this was requested... how did I do in terms of writing this? hopefully not too far from bridgerton?   Content warnings / info - arlecchino is referred to as a man and uses masculine pronouns for a little bit, 2.0k words

You don't quite remember what occasion it was when you first met her. Perhaps it was a charity ball or some celebration. Either way, you were at most eight years of age when you met your first friend, a quiet, petite child hiding in the corner of the Snezhevna Estate's garden, ducked nearby a bush. You wandered away from the garden party, as you couldn't find any other children your age that weren't pestering, so you explored the edges, admiring the flowers. 

You stumbled upon a white haired child, with her white dress sullied by her kneeling on the dirt. Similarly, her pale hands were soiled, as if she had dug into the earth with her fingers alone. You nearly gasped at the sight–no lady would ruin their dress so carelessly, especially a dress seemingly adorned as hers. Nevertheless, you were in awe of the courage to do so. Was it possible she wasn't educated well? It'd be damaging to her family's reputation if anyone were to see the condition of her apparel.

You approached her carefully, your voice small in hopes that you wouldn't sound rude. 

“Hello,” you greeted first, and the child turned her head over her shoulder, gazing at you. 

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her eyes, each black pit filled with a red cross in the center that made you suppose she didn't fit into any aristocratic family. You didn't know of any noble family that had such eyes, and it's only been known from noble families to hold particular sets of eyes. Did this girl really belong to nobility? 

“I know I'm not supposed to be in the dirt. Now leave me alone,” she says before turning away, her voice sounding far too monotone and androgynous for you to consider her a young noble lady. Nonetheless, the clear difference between her and the other guests of the function intrigued you. She was educated, or at least it seemed like it, but she had a disregard for creating a good impression. You ignored her request, instead, plopping yourself down beside her to see what it was in the dirt she was so interested in. 

“What are you digging in the dirt for?” You asked. She slumped, as if irritated by your persisted presence. 

“I'm looking for bugs. So go away, unless you want a spider on you,” she warned without looking at you, with the evident expectation her threat would ward you away. 

It did not, in fact, deter you. If anything, you pressed on, your expression contorting to that of fascination. “What kind of bugs?”

That seemed to snatch the young girl's attention as she turned to you, widened eyes as she observed you, searching your face for any lies. She couldn't believe that there was someone else who could be so ‘lady-like.’ Her apathy returns shortly after, and she glances back at the mound of dirt before her. 

“Young ladies aren't supposed to be interested in pests or dirtying their hands,” the white-haired child states, but it seems more like a recital of someone else's words. 

“Maybe. But it's fun, right?” You replied, offering her a small smile.

Although she still didn't face you, you watched her eyes gleam with life. Your grin grew in accordance. 

“So… you like bugs?” She questioned as she cups a worm she managed to uproot. 

“No way. Not touching them,” you shutted her down immediately and she pouted as you shook your head vigorously. 

“But… I thought you were better company than those other kids. So… I hope you don't mind having me too much?” you sheepishly remarked, wincing a bit at your apparent nervousness. In response, the girl huffed, gracing you with a faint smile. The sight sent flutters through your stomach, filling you with a rush of giddiness you never felt before. 

“Just don't scream, okay?” Is all she answered back.

And that was how you befriended the bastard daughter of the Snezhevna family. Since then, the two of you have been exchanging letters, and met each other at every possible social gathering in secret. Although your family discouraged meeting her so often, you ignored them. However, when you had just turned twelve, her letters stopped, as if she disappeared. You asked Marchioness Crucabena about her daughter, and all you received from the matriarch was a cold cut message: Peruere was receiving ‘education’ for indefinitely. 

Your heart sunk as you crinkled the letter in your hands, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of never seeing your dear friend again. Where had Peruere gone? You hastily wrote another letter, inquiring more about the education or if Peruere could write you back, but the Marchioness would not indulge you with additional information, essentially telling you to mind your business and to stop writing to her. 

You remember weeping into your pillows for the entire night until your eyes dried up, red and puffy from rubbing them constantly. You were haunted by memories of star gazing, of laying on the garden grass, of lounging in one another's arms. Your few moments of bliss were gone forever, stripped away with her absence. 

— 

Pureure always wished she wasn't born into a noble family. Aristocratic society was tedious and pretentious. Why her father ever chose to engage with something as disgusting as the Marchioness, it most definitely wasn't out of love–a fabled concept among nobles really. Peruere knew little of what happened to the late Marquess–his death was caused by a carriage accident–but she knew her birth father was with the Marchioness after the death. 

Regardless, between her and her half-sister Clervie, the Marchioness deemed Peruere better fitted as the heir of the family. In Peruere's opinion, Clervie would have made an impressive matriarch. However, when she inquired Clervie about it, her sister vehemently rejected the notion, wanting to remain carefree as she always was. For as heedless as her older sister was, she would be the model of a noblewoman, the favorite debutante had she wanted to take on the aristocratic responsibilities. In any case, Marchioness Crucabena always had a noticeable distaste for the two of them and Peruere suspected it was because she had no sons and marrying once more would mean losing the inheritance of her late husband. 

Peruere soon learned why exactly she was chosen as the next heir. It was easier for her to pose as a male rather than Clervie in order to appease the Marchioness. Added with Peruere's bastard status, few people knew of her existence, or more so, her familial ties with the Marchioness. With the Marchioness’s ‘education’ Peruere, the bastard daughter with a commoner surname, was transformed into Arlecchino Snezhevna, a bastard son with the Snezhevna surname, and so inheritor of the Marquess title. Pereure was erased effectively in the span of six years. 

Because Arlecchino was a bastard son, that label would have made it difficult to impose herself among other noblemen, and most especially, marry another powerful family. In that sense, what she could not make up in legitimacy, she had to make up in other qualities as a noble. Her hours, from dawn to dusk, consisted of history, economy, and art lessons, etiquette and mannerisms classes, 

and learning various skills such as conversational, dancing, equestrian, fencing, and hunting. Obtaining any length of slumber came few and far, and when rest was finally permitted, her body often ached too much for her to drift.

Instead, she laid conscious at night, her head tilted towards the window, the stars winking back at her. Her thoughts returned to you, as they always have during her respites, and she would wonder again and again if you were looking at the same night sky as she was, reminiscing over memories of stargazing. She often raised her hands to her eyes, the only question lingering in her mind would be if you would recognize these hands if she met you again, the same hands that held you. Alone in her chambers, Arlecchino, no Peruere, promised that she would meet you again, and maybe, this time she would never have to leave your side again. 

She only hoped that she would be good enough for you. 

—

Your heart is thumping rapidly against your chest while your clammy and fidgety hands grasp onto the gloved hand of your dance partner, maintaining deep breaths and keeping your composure as best as possible. You match the steps of the bachelor gracefully and diligentfully, feeling many spectators’ gazes on your back. It’s both invigorating and exhausting to realize that you are the diamond of the season. Receiving this many dance requests is a good sign, yes, but it only means that you are creeping closer to having to choose a suitor.

And inevitably lose Peruere forever. 

You quickly snap out of your thoughts in order to further entertain your dance partner with small talk, and finally the dance ends. 

“Thank you, Earl Childe. It was a pleasure dancing with you. You make an excellent dancer,” you offer the young redhead a beaming expression. 

“You're quite one yourself. I quite enjoyed our time. Perhaps we could dance more privately at a later date?” The sauve bachelor replies back, matching your practiced smile with a cocky one. 

“Perhaps,” is all you say, and thankfully the bachelor walks away. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but it seems you thought too soon, as another set of footsteps approach you from behind. Turning around, you’re met with perhaps the most refined and handsome gentleman you've graced your eyes upon. Immediately, you feel your cheeks swell and you feel unnaturally timid. Sincere red-crossed eyes meet yours, and a faint, charming smile stretches on the lips of the nearing bachelor.

“May I have this dance, Lady [F/N]?” He offers his hand gracefully, and you take his. 

“I haven't introduced myself, pardon me. I am, Earl Arlecchino, Earl of Snezhevna,” he introduces himself with a knowing smile, or rather, she introduces herself as your face contort to that of shock at the mention of her family name. You halt as she initiates the dance, her grin growing as fondness spreads over her facial expression.

“Peruere?” You whisper as you reach out, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, your other gloved hand in hers. Her body warmth bleeds through the contact, and you sense it flow through your entire body. 

“It's Arlecchino, for appearances. I trust you won't expose me?” Peruere says, her eyes scanning over your entire form in awe. “You're… I don't quite have enough words to describe you. You're utterly beautiful.” 

You flush at the compliment before you forcefully tear yourself away from the bubbling giddiness within you, nodding at her first question. Your face attempts to appear stern and angry, but your eyes sabotage that. “I missed you… dearly. Where have you gone? Why didn't you write to me? I kept waiting for you…” 

Peruere's face softens, morphing to one of regret and sympathy. “I haven't stopped thinking of you either. My mother demanded I suddenly take lessons on how to be a nobleman, and with that, I was no longer Peruere, but Arlecchino. During that time, I had to endure everything my mother gave me, and I hardly had time to sleep. I have tried to send you some, but I suspected that the Marchioness meticulously checked what was sent and received. I've kept a pile of letters that I wrote for you, so you would be able to read everything I had to say over the years.” 

You inhale slowly before nodding, understanding her words. “You kept plaguing my dreams, Arlecchino. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you. Please… never leave me again. I don't think I can bear being without you again.” 

It's Arlecchino's turn to be surprised. “You… Are you asking me what you think you're asking me?” She breathlessly inquires, her voice on the edge of exhilaration, and you give her a hopeful smile. 

You nod. “I… I always thought you were the one since we were little. I didn't want to spend my time with anyone else. So… can you be beside me again?” 

Peruere nearly melts at your request. “As long as you'll allow me another dance.” 

[yeah-uh-the-pilot]

Another thing. I don’t follow anyone on social media. I don’t use IG, i don’t use anything except for tumblr. So i have no idea whether anyone has said anything about Tommy’s (and Lou’s) departure.

But if they haven’t, from a solely marketing standpoint, this is fucking insane.

This is not just the n-th character brought in to be a LI. This was a character that already existed in the universe.

It’s a character - and an actor - that was respected by the audience and the cast. Kenny Choi - that with JLH is probably responsible for 90% of the stuff we love in 911, let’s face it - was incredibly supportive of Tommy and Lou. Hell, he went out of his way to say that he was happy to finally see Buck with someone he actually cared about for once. Tracie Thoms was super supportive.

He was included in videos and reels and what the fuck ever that compared Bucktommy to Klaine.

This is the worst fumble they’ve ever had on screen. This is worse than the S6 finale.

They have the time to make it a gotcha thing and bring back Tommy and pretend that that was the plan all along, but the trust the fans and the general audience had is lost forever.

Good luck, 911. I hope that when you crawl on your knees to beg Lou to come back he has a good negotiator in his corner. He’s the one with the power now.

[rylem33]

The Camera Doesn't Lie

I hope you all enjoy this new story. If you liked it, you can find it and all of my 100+ stories over at my blog (link on my Tumblr home page).

Eliza tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she wandered through the antique stalls. The final project for her sociology course was her chance to make a difference. Her theme, The Faces of Strength, aimed to shine a light on the struggles of the homeless community. Her professor had been thrilled with her idea, praising her for her empathy and commitment.

But Eliza wasn’t here for praise. “I just…want to help them,” she’d said during their last discussion.

As she scanned the market, her eyes landed on an old, sleek camera resting in a faded velvet case. 

“Excuse me,” she called to the shopkeeper, an older man with a wiry beard. “Does this camera work?”

“Ah,” he said, his smile spreading as he picked it up and held it out. “The Iris 2000. It’s a special piece. A real classic.”

Eliza looked it over, intrigued by the faint engraving on the lens. “How much?”

“For you? Twenty bucks.”

Her brow furrowed. “That seems fair.”

The old man chuckled. “I think you’ll enjoy the results.”

The price was within her limited budget. She handed over the cash and tucked the camera into her bag.

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

The community center’s main hall was decorated with string lights and colorful banners that Eliza and a handful of volunteers had painstakingly set up the night before. Tables were piled high with donated coats, gloves, and blankets, and the scent of warm casseroles and fresh bread wafted from the buffet line.

Eliza stood near the donations table, hands on her hips, surveying the scene with pride. Weeks of planning, endless emails, and sleepless nights had culminated in this charity dinner and giveaway for the local homeless community.

Beside her, Lisa, a fellow volunteer, was unpacking another box of donations. “You really outdid yourself this time, Eliza,” Lisa said, pulling out a bundle of knitted scarves.

“Thanks,” Eliza said with a tired but genuine smile. “I just wanted everyone to feel cared for tonight, you know? A warm meal, some essentials…it’s the least we can do.”

Lisa paused, holding up a bright orange bikini with a baffled expression. “Okay, but…what about this?”

Eliza turned, her eyebrows shooting up as she stifled a laugh. “Seriously? Someone donated a bikini? A bright orange bikini. In the middle of winter?”

Lisa chuckled, dangling the bikini from her fingers. “Yeah, because this is definitely what you wear when it’s twenty degrees outside.”

Eliza shook her head, laughing. “I guess someone was really cleaning house.” She grabbed the bikini and tossed it into the corner of the box. “Let’s stick to coats and boots for tonight, huh?”

“Agreed,” Lisa said, grinning.

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

The community center was alive with guests lined up for the buffet and sifting through tables of donated supplies. Eliza and Lisa worked tirelessly, darting between guests to answer questions, restock tables, and keep everything running smoothly.

“Eliza, we’re running low on gloves over here,” Lisa called from across the room.

“Got it!” Eliza said, grabbing a box from the supply corner and weaving through the crowd.

As she set the gloves on the table, her eyes fell on the camera tucked into her bag. She froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. The project! I completely forgot about the photos.

She hurried over to her bag and pulled out the sleek, vintage camera she’d bought earlier that week. Its weight felt satisfying in her hands as she adjusted the lens.

“Hey, Lisa!” she called, raising her voice above the chatter.

Lisa appeared a moment later, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “What’s up?”

“I need pictures for my project,” Eliza said, holding up the camera. “I was going to document the event, but it’s so busy I almost forgot.”

Lisa smiled. “Oh, right! That’s a great idea.”

Eliza aimed the camera at the tables filled with donated items, adjusting the frame. But before she could take the shot, Lisa stopped her.

“Wait,” Lisa said, placing a hand on Eliza’s arm. “You should be in the picture.”

Eliza frowned, lowering the camera slightly. “What? No, that’s not the point. It’s supposed to be about the event, not me.”

Lisa gave her a knowing look. “Come on, Eliza. You put all of this together. You should be in at least one picture to show the hard work you’ve done.”

“I don’t know…” Eliza hesitated, glancing around at the bustling room.

Lisa tilted her head and smiled encouragingly. “It’s your project. People will want to know who’s behind all this. Just one picture, for context.”

Eliza sighed, reluctant but unable to argue with Lisa’s logic. “Fine. But just one.”

Lisa grinned and gestured for Eliza to stand by a table piled with scarves, coats, and blankets. “Okay, stand here. Maybe hold one of the items to make it look natural.”

Eliza grabbed a thick scarf and draped it over her arm, standing stiffly beside the table.

“Relax a little,” Lisa said, laughing as she adjusted the camera. “You look like you’re posing for a passport photo.”

Eliza forced a smile, adjusting her posture. “Better?”

“Much. Hold still—aaaand…perfect.”

Click.

The flash of the camera was surprisingly bright, and for a moment, Eliza felt disoriented. She blinked, rubbing her eyes as the sensation faded.

Lisa lowered the camera and smiled. “There you go. See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Eliza nodded, though her thoughts lingered on the odd feeling from the flash. She glanced down at herself, smoothing her sweater absently.

“You okay?” Lisa asked, noticing her distraction.

“Yeah,” Eliza said quickly, brushing it off. “Must’ve just been the light. Let me see the picture.”

Lisa turned the camera around to show her the screen. Eliza stared at the image.

There was something about the picture, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, that made her look…better.

“Huh,” she said softly.

Lisa grinned. “You look amazing, Eliza. Like a natural.”

“Yeah…” Eliza murmured, unable to look away. “I guess that old camera takes better pictures than my phone.”

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

Eliza moved away from the donations table and spotted Tony, a familiar face among the guests, sitting near the buffet line with a plate piled high with food.

“Tony!” she called out, her smile bright and warm as she approached.

He looked up, his face breaking into a grin. “Eliza! You’ve outdone yourself this time. This is incredible.”

Eliza slid into the seat across from him, waving off the compliment. “It’s not just me. A lot of people worked hard to make this happen.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, but you’re the one who brought us all together. You should be proud.”

Her chest swelled at his words, she felt pride, but satisfaction at the recognition. Maybe Lisa was right about being in the pictures.

“Thanks, Tony,” she said, her tone soft. “I just wanted everyone to feel cared for, even if it’s just for one night.”

“That’s why you’re the best,” he said, his grin widening.

Before Eliza could respond, she noticed Lisa nearby, camera in hand.

“Smile!” Lisa called, and before Eliza could react, the flash went off.

Click.

Eliza blinked, again momentarily disoriented by the light. This time, she felt oddly warm.

“Lisa!” she said, half-laughing as she turned toward her friend. “A little warning next time?”

Lisa grinned sheepishly. “Sorry! But it’s such a great moment. I couldn’t resist.”

Eliza hesitated, her annoyance fading as she caught sight of the camera. She touched her hair, smoothing it absentmindedly.

“Do you want to take another one?” Lisa offered, holding up the camera.

Eliza hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay. One more.”

She turned toward Lisa, adjusting her posture and tilting her head slightly. Her smile was more deliberate this time.

Click.

The rush was immediate. Her heart beat faster, and she felt her lips curl into a wider smile.

Lisa lowered the camera, laughing. “See? You look great again.”

Tony chuckled. “Eliza, you’re a natural. Maybe you should be in the pictures more often.”

Eliza turned toward him, her smile bright but sharper than before. “Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “it doesn’t hurt to show people who’s responsible for all this.”

Tony blinked, the words catching him a bit off guard. “Uh, yeah. You’ve earned it.”

“Exactly,” Eliza said, her tone carrying a hint of satisfaction. She glanced back at Lisa. “Let me know if you need more shots for the project.”

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

Eliza strode toward the dessert table, clicking her heels as she walked. She stopped as she passed a wall-mounted mirror, tilting her head as she studied herself. Her hair seemed shinier. Her skin, usually blotchy after a long day of volunteering, had a smooth glow.

She reached up, brushing a hand over her cheek. I didn’t even put on makeup today, she thought, her lips curling into a slight smile.

“Looking good, Eliza,” she muttered to herself before a flicker of confusion crept in. Wait—heels? She glanced down. Sure enough, the sturdy flats she’d been wearing earlier were now sleek black heels.

Her brows furrowed, but she brushed the thought aside with a shrug. It’s been a busy night. Maybe I grabbed the wrong shoes on my way out.

“Come on, Lisa!” she called over her shoulder, the sound of her heels clicking against the tile floor growing oddly satisfying.

Lisa hurried to catch up, the camera swinging from her hand. “Where to next?”

Eliza gestured toward the dessert table, where Ms. Louise was chatting with another guest. “Over there. Let’s get some more shots.”

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

Ms. Louise looked up as Eliza approached, her face lighting up. “Eliza! You’re making the rounds tonight, huh?”

Eliza smiled, her teeth startlingly white. “Of course. I want to make sure everyone’s having a good time.”

Louise gestured to the pie on her plate. “You’ve outdone yourself. This event is amazing.”

“Of course it is,” she said smoothly. “I mean, let’s be honest, who else could’ve pulled this off?”

Louise blinked. “Well, it’s clear you’ve worked hard…”

“Hard?” Eliza interrupted with a laugh. “Louise, this took more than just hard work. It took vision. Talent. And, well…” She gestured vaguely to herself. “Not everyone can manage something like this.”

Louise hesitated, her gratitude faltering. “You’re a real blessing, you know that?”

Eliza’s smile widened. “Oh, I know,” she said, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “But it’s nice to hear it said out loud.”

Lisa stepped closer, raising the camera. “Can I grab a picture of you two?”

“Of course,” Eliza said, immediately straightening her posture. She glanced at Ms. Louise, her smile faltering slightly. “Louise, maybe sit up a little straighter? And wipe that smudge off your cheek.”

Louise blinked, flustered. “Oh, sure.” She quickly dabbed at her cheek with a napkin, her movements hurried.

Lisa hesitated, glancing between the two women. “Uh, ready?”

“Ready,” Eliza said, her pose relaxed but deliberate, her chin tilted just enough to catch the light.

Click.

The rush she felt was instant. Eliza felt her heart race as warmth spread through her chest and down her arms. Her dress, once loose and practical, clung to her figure in a way that accentuated her curves.

She ran a hand over her waist, her brows knitting briefly. Did this dress shrink?

“Looks great,” Lisa said, lowering the camera.

“Let me see,” Eliza demanded, stepping forward.

Lisa handed her the camera, and Eliza’s lips parted slightly as she stared at the image. Her hair looked longer and lighter. And her figure looked good, no…striking.

She handed the camera back with a satisfied smile. “Perfect,” she said, glancing at Ms. Louise. “See? You look good when you try.”

Ms. Louise hesitated, her smile faltering. “Uh…thanks, I guess.”

“Take another one of just me,” she said as she nudged Louise to the side.

“Umm, okay,” Lisa replied.

Click.

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

Eliza stepped onto the stage, her heels clicking against the polished wood. She turned, letting the lights hit her just right, and gestured for Lisa to follow.

“Everything okay?” Lisa asked, stepping up beside her.

Eliza blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Yeah, fine,” she said quickly, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “Just…thinking about the next shot.”

Lisa raised the camera. “What are you thinking?”

Eliza turned to the stage, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Let’s get one of me up here,” she said, her voice edged with excitement.

Lisa hesitated. “You sure? I thought we were focusing on the guests.”

Eliza’s smile tightened. “This is my project, Lisa. People need to see who made this happen.”

Lisa frowned but nodded, following Eliza as she stepped onto the stage.

“Over here,” she said, her voice sharp. “Stand by the aisle so you can get the full angle.”

Lisa hesitated, glancing around at the guests who had started to notice. “Eliza, are you sure? This feels…a little much.”

Eliza’s gaze snapped to Lisa, her eyes narrowing. “Do you want these pictures to turn out well or not?” she snapped.

Lisa flinched but moved into position, raising the camera.

Eliza’s smile returned, layered on thick for the camera. She tilted her head slightly, her pose effortless and confident. “Make sure you get my whole body in the frame. And don’t forget the lights behind me, I want everything to look perfect.”

Lisa’s hands tightened around the camera, but she nodded. “Fine. Ready?”

“Always,” Eliza said.

Click.

She stepped forward, grabbing the camera out of Lisa’s hands. “Let me see.”

Eliza studied the photo, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. She looked…stunning. 

“This is amazing,” she murmured, handing the camera back without looking at Lisa. “Keep going. We’re on a roll.”

“Eliza…” Lisa’s voice was hesitant. “Don’t you think we should…”

“Lisa,” Eliza interrupted, her tone icy. “You’re here to help me, right? So help me.”

Lisa’s jaw tightened, but she did as she was told.

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

Eliza descended the stage, her heels clicking loudly as she approached a group of guests near the dessert table. She smiled broadly, her gaze sweeping over them like a spotlight.

“Hey, everyone,” she said, her voice warm but calculated. “Mind if we get a picture?”

The group nodded eagerly, shuffling into position.

Eliza stepped to the center, gesturing for them to move slightly. “You, stand over there. And you, don’t slouch. This is going to be in my project, so we need to look our best.”

One of the women hesitated, her smile faltering. “Oh, um…okay.”

“Perfect,” Eliza said, brushing off the hesitation as she adjusted her hair. “Lisa, take it from this angle. And make sure you don’t cut me off.”

Lisa raised the camera, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Ready?”

“Of course,” Eliza said, her smile bright but shallow.

Click.

Eliza quickly examined the picture.  Her hair seemed even lighter, and the faintest glint of gold appeared in her earrings.  When did I put on earrings?

“You look great, Eliza,” one of the guests said, her voice soft with admiration.

Eliza flashed a fake smile.. “Thanks. You could look good too, if you cleaned up a bit and knew how to pose.”

The woman blinked, her face falling as she looked at her second hand clothes.

“Don’t worry,” Eliza added smoothly. “It’s just something to think about for next time.”

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

“Eliza…” Lisa started, her voice trembling. “Do you…hear yourself?”

Eliza stopped, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to face Lisa. Her smirk was icy, her patience thin. “What are you babbling about now?”

“You,” Lisa said, gesturing with a shaky hand. “The way you’re acting. The way you’re treating people. This isn’t you.”

Eliza raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Oh, really? And who exactly am I, Lisa?”

Lisa stepped forward, her expression desperate. “You’re kind. Compassionate. The Eliza I know cares about people. She doesn’t talk down to them or treat them like props for some project.”

Eliza laughed, the sound sharp and cold. “Is that what you think this is? A little project? Please, Lisa. This is my work. My success. And if you can’t see that, maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.”

Lisa flinched but held her ground. “You’re being cruel, Eliza. Do you even hear yourself? You’re treating everyone like they’re beneath you. This isn’t the person who planned this event.”

“Oh, please,” Eliza snapped, her eyes narrowing. “This event wouldn’t even exist without me. None of it would. So, excuse me if I expect a little gratitude for everything I’ve done.”

Lisa’s mouth fell open, her face pale. “That’s not… I’m worried about you!”

“Worried?” Eliza’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Don’t bother. I’ve never been better. Maybe you should stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself.”

Lisa stepped back, stunned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Eliza said, her voice dripping with venom, “you’re just bitter because for once, it’s not all about you. Admit it, Lisa, you can’t handle the fact that I’m the one in charge. That I’m the one everyone’s looking at tonight.”

Lisa shook her head, her grip tightening on the camera. “That’s not true. I’m just trying to help…”

“Spare me,” Eliza spat, cutting her off. “You’re just a jealous little bitch who can’t stand not being the center of attention.”

Lisa flinched as if she’d been slapped, her hands shaking.

“Give me that,” Eliza demanded, snatching the camera from Lisa’s hands before she could respond.

“Eliza, wait…”

But Eliza was already turning away, her stride purposeful as she headed toward the donation pile, the click of her heels echoing through the room.

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

She reached the table piled high with clothes and supplies. Her eyes scanned the pile until they landed on the bright orange bikini she and Lisa had laughed about earlier.

Her lips curled into a slow smile as she picked it up, holding the fabric between her fingers.

“Eliza,” Lisa’s voice came from behind her, strained and pleading. “What are you doing?”

Eliza turned, the bikini dangling from her fingers. “I’m just putting all the donations to good use. It’s not like any of these people could wear it anyway.”

Lisa stared at her, horror etched across her face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Eliza said, her voice low and sharp.

Without another word, Eliza turned and strutted toward the back room, her golden hair bouncing with each step.

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

Eliza entered the room, the orange bikini clutched tightly in her hands. Her heart was racing. 

Standing before the mirror, she held up the bikini, smirking as its bright color contrasted against her hair. Why not? she thought. It wasn’t like anyone else would appreciate it the way she could.

She pulled off her dress, noticing for the first time how much her body had changed. Her waist was narrower, her stomach flat and toned. Her thighs were long and lean, her arms sculpted like she’d spent hours at the gym.

The bikini fit perfectly. Eliza ran her hands down her sides, her smirk widening.

I look…incredible.

“Let’s see what this baby can do,” she muttered, angling the camera toward herself.

She struck a pose, hips cocked, lips slightly parted, and snapped the first selfie.

Click.

The flash hit, and the familiar hum surged through her, stronger than ever. Eliza gasped as the changes rippled through her body. Her hair lightened further, turning an icy platinum blonde. Her lips plumped, forming a perfect pout, and her cheekbones sharpened, giving her a high-fashion model look.

She stared at herself in the camera’s display, her heart racing. “God, I’m gorgeous,” she whispered, her voice carrying a new sultry edge.

Eliza adjusted her posture, turning slightly to show off her profile. She raised the camera again, a look of excitement in her eyes.

Click.

Another flash, another rush. Her body grew more defined, her chest fuller, her waist impossibly narrow, her hips curving just right. Tattoos appeared on her arms and ribs, delicate but striking, adding to her newfound allure.

She ran her fingers over the ink, her smirk growing. “Perfect,” she purred.

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

“Eliza!” Lisa’s voice called from the hallway.

Eliza turned toward the sound, her smirk fading into a scowl. Her again? She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Lisa appeared, her expression a mix of confusion and alarm. “Eliza, what are you…” Her words trailed off as her eyes widened, taking in the transformation.

“Do you mind?” Eliza snapped, gesturing to the camera. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Lisa blinked, struggling to process what she was seeing. “Eliza, what’s happening to you? You’re…”

“Beautiful?” Eliza interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I know.”

Lisa took a hesitant step forward. “This isn’t right. You’re acting…cruel. And that camera…”

“Is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Eliza finished, cutting her off. She turned back to the mirror, raising the camera once more. “Maybe you should try it. God knows you could use some improvement.”

Lisa flinched, her face pale. “Eliza, stop. Please.”

But Eliza ignored her, snapping another picture.

Click.

She turned to Lisa, her gaze cold and dismissive. “You can go now,” she said, waving a hand as if shooing away a pest.

Lisa stared at her, tears brimming in her eyes. “Eliza, don’t do this.”

Eliza laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “Oh, Lisa. It’s already done. And if you can’t see that, then you’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

She spun on her heel, the camera still clutched in her hand, and strutted away without a second glance, her every step oozing confidence and superiority.

The crowd at the event turned to stare as she re-entered the room, their faces a mix of shock and awe. But Eliza didn’t care. Let them look. Let them admire.

After all, this was her moment.

[malusokay]

Malu's Monthly Mail Submissions ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

In a recent voting (this one), I asked you guys if I should add a "Community page" to my little monthly mail. I did NOT expect so much enthusiasm for this idea, so of course, we're going to make it happen!!

How it works  ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

It's simple: Every month, I'll make a post with a theme for you guys to get creative with. Submit your post via messages (here on Tumblr, obviously), and I will go through everything and select a few to feature in my monthly mail.

Of course, those posts will be created, AND I will also make sure to link your account so people can find your blog easily — kind of like a shout-out!! (unless you want to stay anonymous, which of course, is fine too!!)

Don't worry about making it look perfect, I will edit everything (sentence structure, grammar, and all that fuzz so... DONT BE SHY <3)

What to submit  ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

I want to give you lots of creative freedom here so you can really submit anything: Recipes, tips, wellness stuff, book recommendations, poetry, advice, DIY ideas, little guides... Just the typical girlblog stuff, haha.

the only condition is that it has to fit the theme!! <3

This Month's theme  ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

It's March, Easter is early this year, and spring is just around the corner... I'm sure you guys get the idea!!

Spring cleanout, easter prep, fresh flowers, picnic dates, farmers markets, longer days, spending more time outside, self-care... That's the vibe <3

I'm so so excited to see how this will go and I truly look forward to creating this month's Monthly Mail. <3

‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

[winterandwords]

Writeblrs, I adore you

Shout out to my friends who are here for the writing, who come to Tumblr as your Writing Place, who share what you write and build community around your passion for writing, and who consistently offer absolutely wild amounts of support and encouragement to other writers.

I've never felt belonging in an online writing community the way I do here. On Writeblr, I don't have to talk about my life or anything other than writing if I don't want to. I don't have to be a brand or have a content strategy or curate a version of myself to appeal to a wider audience or give a shit about statistics.

I don't have to Do A Marketing or do anything at all other than be in love with writing and hang out with other people who are in love with writing too. I get to read the amazing stuff you write and I get to share the stuff I write with people who enjoy it. I'm at home here.

Writeblrs, you make this little corner of the internet so beautiful and cozy and welcoming just by being who you are and doing what you do 💜

[jasminewalkerauthor]

So you've wrote a book, what's next?

So I recently started uni and naturally immediately joined my universities writing and book societies, last week I was sat editing my book when a couple of people approached me. Apparently through some light instagram stalking they had found out I published books and was wondering how on earth do you even do it.

Upon being on tumblr this week it turns out that this is a question that a lot of people are interested in, this being probably my most requested post ever?

ANYWAY. You've wrote a book, either you're two drafts in or fifty drafts in it doesn't entirely matter. I am going to give you the bad news that the work has only just begun.

The first choice you really need to make is whether or not you want to pursue traditional publishing or self/indie publishing. I believe the common misconception of the difference between the two is that one is 'Easier' than the other. Both are hard, just in different ways.

Traditional publishing is hard to break into, you need to convince enough of people that your book is worth selling which can be incredibly difficult and results in a lot of heartbreaking emails. However once you have that publishing deal you have those people in your corner to help with editing, cover design, and distribution among other things.

Self publishing, much like the name suggests, means that you have to do everything yourself, edit (or source an editor), design (or source a designer), marketing, the works. However the plus side of self publishing which I like is that you have a lot more creative control and freedom.

Now to be fully transparent, I am an indie author, naturally I am going to know a lot more about a process I have actually gone through rather than one I havent. However I do believe I can provide at least a rough guideline of the process so that people can get an idea of what going into it.

So starting with traditional publishing, assuming that you have a full draft that you've at least done some self editing on, your first step is finding an agent. You'll need a couple of things for this. First is make a document of the first 30 pages of your manuscript (a 'sample' if you will), and a query letter which is almost like a cover letter for your book, this is what potential agents will look at to judge whether they want to represent your manuscript.

I dont think I need to say it but your query letter is VITAL, please take time with it, some agents may not even look at your sample if your query letter is bad.

Now, searching for agents is relatively easy, there are a lot of databases online that will give you a list of agents and whether or not they are accepting submissions. Most agents will also have a kind of 'wishlist' of manuscripts they're looking to represent (e.g. sci-fi, philosophy, high fantasy), look for agents with a wishlist that includes your kind of book.

Once you have an agent they will be able to go to different publishing houses with your manuscript, hopefully leading to a book deal at some point. From there the publishers will help with editing, design, and distribution.

With self publishing the process is a bit more complicated. First is the editing process. Either you can edit your own manuscript if you feel up to it or you can source an editor. There are three different editors you can hire: Developmental editor, Line editor, and Proof reader. Almost every editor charges per word of your manuscript.

I would also recommend looking for Beta readers, these are readers who will read through an early copy of your manuscript for feedback (These are NOT editors, more reviewers). There are also ARC readers who you send an early copy to about 2-3 months before release to build interest in your book.

When it comes to the actual publishing itself, there are two main publishing platforms: kdp and ingram spark. Both of these are three besides the fact that you will need to buy an ISPN for your book to use ingram spark.

I think i'll leave it there because this is LONG, but i may turn this into a series, what do y'all want to know about?

[girlbossblackbeard]

S2 TRAILER ANALYSIS WITH 1 BILLION SCREENSHOTS

obligatory warning that this post is gonna be SOOOOOOOOOOOOO foolishly long and rambling with all my silly little theories and thoughts and if you ALSO have silly little theories and thoughts you should ABSOLUTELY share them here please!!!! we can clown so much harder when our cacophonous honking harmonizes!!!!!!!

NOW ONTO THE POST (putting it under a read more so tumblr doesn't literally explode):

-the revenge looks BUSTED AF: i don't know if this is from general disrepair when ed is in his kraken era or if she was in a battle but her sails are all dirty in the opening shot of the trailer, and later we see stede on her deck with tattered sails and ropes everywhere, AND i'm like 99% sure that the shot of buttons ziplining from one ship to another is him going from the Chinese warfleet ship to the revenge, which i'm guessing is essentially stuck bc the sails are so torn they would never be able to catch the wind strongly enough to move her. I also wonder if the shot of roach shooting a canon at something is him shooting a canon at her since we had all those allusions to her exploding from samba, vico, and david on twitter all those months ago

-stede's earring: he DOES NOT HAVE THE EARRING when we see him lying on the deck next to roach and sighing dramatically nor does he have it during his conversation with Olu about stede dumping him, but he DOES have the earring in later shots like the beach english fight and when he's talking about being a failure his whole life which means WE WILL GET TO SEE STEDE GET HIS EAR PIERCED!!!!!!!!!! we'll get to see him make the decision to look even hotter and who knows who does the piercing for him idk!!!!!! @sluterastede had a dastardly beautiful thought in her brain about ed giving stede the piercing and stede making groaning noises and izzy once again thinking they're flapping their jacks right there on the deck in front of god and everybody!!!!!

-stede is spilling his heart out ("i let him down. i should've just told him how i feel") to susan on her ship (you can tell it's her by the long hair)

-interesting that there's a drawing of a donkey next to ed's wanted poster considering s1 had the line "a rich donkey is still a donkey". also i can't really read what the surrounding posters say other than "WANTED 20 GUINEAS". is this in the republic of pirates?

-stede says "i will find him" meaning ed may be actively avoiding stede at the beginning of the season???? (or the basic laws of travel physics have finally caught up to them)

-"look, captain, you know blackbeard's gonna murder you" i just think it's interesting that Olu is referring to him as blackbeard again even though ed told everyone in his pink robe era to call him ed. like it makes sense that he'd say blackbeard considering ed is on a rampage but it just made my brain wheels start spinning

-the Kraken crew are eating cake :)

-ed is holding a torch while letting the storm rain down on him: i don't think the laugh we hear is his because i don't think his mouth is even open during that slow-mo shot

-STEDE with a TEAR in his EYE as he says "i think i hurt him pretty bad"

-ed sobbing on the floor while the little bride cake topper is next to his head

-ed choking on the weed smoke i'm ACTUALLY crying, but also: where the fuck is ed when he's sitting in the chair smoking??? i thought it was on deck at first bc above his head is really dark and it looks like the lanterns we see on the deck of the revenge but there's a chandelier too?? it might be whatever shop Anne Bonny and her friend "you two know each other?" run bc behind ed in that chair is just a bunch of random furniture and a chandelier like we see when ed and stede are at the market. in fact, i think ed is smoking with Anne Bonny because I think that's her hand in the corner of that shot:

-"no more booze, no more drugs, and no more _____" not sure what the end of that sentence could be but we know that the "stede" that was put in there is NOT what he actually says!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-"you two know each other?" now hold on a sec because it kinda sounds like stede met Anne Bonny and Co. separately from Ed/before that market scene (maybe in the teaser clip of Anne on Stede's lap??) WHAT IF WE GET THE AITA SCENARIO WHERE ED AND STEDE TELL PEOPLE ABOUT THEIR VERSION OF EVENTS AND NO ONE REALIZES THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT EACH OTHER UNTIL THAT MOMENT BC THEY'RE BOTH SO BIASED ABOUT ONE ANOTHER

-the evil guy definitely got his nose sliced off by Jackie. good for her :D I also don't think the evil guy is Hornigold, i'm still holding onto my theory that the man in the white rags we saw in the teaser and this trailer is hornigold's "ghost" that ed needs to contend with to find his inner peace or whatever a la stede with nigel's "ghost". but i DO think the evil guy is the rich prince dude from that leaked audition tape from rhys's friend. if memory serves, the guy wants to buy his way into the pirate lifestyle but he's pompous and entitled which makes him reckless. based off the production stills we also got today, he still had a nose when he went into Spanish Jackie's...but i don't think he leaves with one. so because he gets butthurt over invading a space that was NOT meant for him and faces the consequences of purposely disobeying their customs, he defects to the english navy and goes on a rampage against all piracy, very MRA energy :/ also, later izzy says to him "you don't know the first thing about piracy" which would further support that this guy just tried to buy his way in

-izzy gets an honest-to-god pegleg but he doesn't start the season off with it because we see him in several shots with both legs, like the wedding raid and swordfighting stede on the beach. unsure if he loses it due to infection from the toe situation or if he gets shot in the knee like i've seen some posts talk about, but @sluterastede mentioned that one of the leaked audition tapes for archie included dialogue about an amputation so maybe that character has to uh. Get Her Roach On

-as i mentioned before with the teaser analysis, izzy is clearly training stede for something and now im guessing it's the english but like we kinda knew that !

-olu is in a bar fight??

-THE "ED GETS CAUGHT IN A BUCKET ON A ROPE DURING THE STORM AND GOES OVERBOARD" THEORY IS OUT. THE "ED TIES HIMSELF TO A MF BIG ASS ROCK AND JUMPS OFF A GOD DAMN CLIFF TO GO ON SOME SOUL-SEARCHING JOURNEY UNDER THE SEA" THEORY IS IN. and what the FUCK is the rag man doing with ed up on that cliff hello?????? if my theory is correct and that is in fact hornigold's ghost or whatever, what advice or harmful shit is he saying that makes ed do that?????????????????????? but do note the large rock with the rope around it in the first pic

-the revenge crew is blowing up SOMETHING on the side of a building. maybe to cause a distraction or gain access inside the building? is it the side of Spanish Jackie's?? also hiiiiiiii lucius <3

-"our entire escape relies on this" i'm just assuming they're trying to escape from the english bc that seems to be the Big Bad of the season??

-not plot related but during the rope swinging training session izzy slaps stede on the ass and makes this face (sir??????):

>he also has his pegleg here so their mentorship may ramp up after izzy is out of commission for hand-to-hand combat. maybe izzy was supposed to have a larger fighting role alongside ed in defeating the english but once he became incapacitated he realized he would need to train someone else up for the job so ed would be sufficiently protected. but it also had to be someone izzy knew would be willing to die for ed to save his life if it came to that, just like izzy would

-"i've been a failure my whole life. it's not so bad once you get used to it" is stede talking to ed here? is that ed's hair in the corner of the frame??

>side note: as mentioned above, stede also has his earring by this point!!

-"you're going through that 'if i was a regular dude' phase" first of all, SPANISH JACKIE AND EDWARD TEACH BEST FRIENDS TRUTHERS RISE UP. second, why would ed be considered a regular dude now?? how did he lose his reputation? did he willingly give it up or was it taken from him? is this permanent or just temporary? or did he fake his own death with the cliff and the rock thing so he could retire and live a more normal life?? the swede doesn't seem scared of him at all in the final clip from the trailer, straight up asking him if he's poor and going "back to basics". of course, that could just be a power trip from being one of Jackie's newest husbands (or at least her waitstaff)

-possibly totally minor/just a continuity error thing, but: ed has a red ring. we saw it in s1 as he picks up the rather fine cashmere and we see it as ed dramatically drapes himself across the ship's helm with his head on his hand. we do not see it in the scene where he's smoking (see above) or the scene where he's talking to the rabbit. now, if you'll allow me a little bit of clownery for a moment, red has been explicitly coded in this show to be a symbol of love/the heart, especially as it pertains to edward like his red silk scarf as a metaphor for his heart in s1. what if. what if he. gave the red ring (his heart) to. SomeOne. because.....................because his heart belongs to st--[GUNSHOTS]

-olu, jim, and archie with garlic around their necks and making a cross with their fingers - clearly they think someone is a vampire on the ship. @sluterastede proposed it could be izzy, especially if he's on the brink of death due to an infection and frenchie managed to spread his superstitions to other people on the ship!

-THIS FUCKIN GUY. WHO ARE YOU??? it seems like he kidnaps stede and his crew and throws a party on the ship and drugs the drinks which is why everyone is kinda tripping/laughing in some parts. but then everyone gets tied down (stede to the mast, wee john's hands get squished, olu and roach's heads get squished, and jim and archie's feet get secured to the ship's railing i think??). also that wide shot is definitely the rando dude hitting some shrill high note at the same moment the revenge crew cry out in pain from all the squishing (except maybe jim and archie - they might just be laughing at the others bc they're badasses and this pain is nothing). also don't know what the guy is looking at when we first see him but im thinking maybe it's a wanted poster of stede and he's looking at the description of the gentleman pirate to confirm it's the dude right in front of him/that he's captured?? also i think roach is wearing flowers from the drug party in his apron when he fires that canon, so maybe he's tripping too and shoots a canon?? i need a prayer circle for the revenge's safety at this time

-stede has a bullet hole???????????????? did ed fucking shoot him in the heart?????????????????????????? he also notably does NOT have the earring in this scene but he does have the sexy stiddies (blue) shirt like we see in the other shot where he DOES have the earring. maybe this weirdo dude pierces stede's ear bc he thinks stede needs to look more piratey?? or stede gets absolutely sloshed (or drugged) and gets his ear pierced idk !!! maybe jim does it bc they're effortlessly cool and has a bunch of ear piercings!!!

-idk if this is a coincidence or not but i'm pretty sure stede in his training scenes with izzy is wearing the clothes he wore in that final shot of s1 as he rows to find the crew on the island (white linen shirt, dark pants, brown belt and boots). so either costume changes are happening later in the season, they're reusing outfits like normal people do, or the training montage happens extremely early on in the season

-so originally with the teaser trailer i thought ed falling in the water was followed by the shot of ed coming out of the water on the beach. i don't know if i fully believe that anymore because ed is NOT wearing his jacket on the cliff (see above), but he IS wearing it as he comes up out of the water, so either it's two different events and ed just spends a lot of time in the water this season or he puts his jacket on before jumping off the cliff

-ed his holding his right side as he slashes that dude on the beach so he definitely got hurt in battle but i hope it's not him getting stabbed bc ur supposed to cleverly take the sword on the left where all the unimportant bits are :(((

-I VERY STRONGLY BELIEVE that the person in the scene where stede turns around and shoots his gun into the air and everyone else on deck suddenly draws their weapons against that person is our boy lucius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he's wearing a beret?????????? @sluterastede proposed that lucius got picked up by the english navy after getting thrown overboard and that's why we see him in the english navy garb (which we later see frenchie in too?? i believe an infiltration fuckery is afoot). also the fact that the shot immediately after this one is of Black Pete doing a happy little fist pump which i'm choosing to interpret as a cute little easter egg symbolizing Pete gets reunited with his love. i also also also believe lucius is in the shot of buttons about to zipline from one ship to the other. i missed him :')

-okay i know i said in an earlier post that stede running across the beach was romantic but i changed my mind and i think izzy is just making stede do cardio as part of his training lol. his outfit matches the one he's wearing when swordfighting izzy in that earlier wideshot and i think he even still has the scarf belt and the full beard in both scenes (explained at the end of this post via production stills) so maybe they have an honest to god training montage that takes course over several days and we get an incredible 80s powerballad to play on top of it while stede thinks of ed to motivate him or whatever. david jenkins hire me to help write season 3 i have ideas

-i think jim is behind stede as he breaks into the weirdly religious room we saw in the teaser when stede punches that guy??

-ed is pretty bloodied in the shot of stede leaning over him and saying VERY worriedly "ed????" so my theory is that ed got hurt in battle or he was taken captive by the Chinese warfleet and stede was worried he was grievously injured. however, once ed comes to and realizes who's kneeling over him, he gets pissed and headbutts stede because he's still mad at him for breaking his heart, and maybe his hands are restrained/his body is too weak so he can't push stede away. or maybe they had to begrudgingly work together on some mission and stede fucked it up and ed got hurt so he's mad about that idk!! ALSO HE'S WEARING THE CRAVAT HELLO

-ed in buttons's shirt looking so PEACEFUL what the HELL. obviously it's from the same general time as him being in Spanish Jackie's when she's talking to him about being a regular dude and later when the swede asks him if he's poor addkjfajdfhlkefh i fucking love this show and its writing so much. but ed says "no, i'm just trying something different man >:/" so i wonder if this is ed at the end of s2 or if this is more towards the middle as he's still in the thick of his healing journey. maybe buttons teaches ed about meditation and/or the tai chi he practiced with the Chinese warfleet crew??

-the BTS production still of ed with his "trust no one" tattoo also features what i believe is the treasure chest we see jim carrying off the ship in the shot where fang is smashing two dudes' heads together!

-i also think the BTS production still of stede with the beard is early on in ep 1 because he has a full beard (that im hoping someone on the revenge bullies him into shaving off to the scruff we see in the rest of the promo materials) and ALSO because he's wearing a long red scarf around his waist, which we never see again in any of the other promo material - except, however, around his neck as a makeshift cravat:

>it's the same exact material and everything! my guess is he gets his ass handed to him in a fight (maybe against izzy??) and his scarf belt gets destroyed, so he repurposes the shredded fabric into his necktie

-there's literal gold bars in the background of this production still lmao the kraken crew got BUSY during ed's goth era

>speaking of, the fucking hair dye dripping down izzy's forehead in this production still:

*sad clown noises*

in conclusion:

WE'RE BACK BABEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

anyway that's my second dissertation on less than 2 minutes of content that turned out to be quite literally 6 pages long :)

[lizzy06]

Ukai Keishin x Reader Fic Recs!!(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Other Characters Fic Rec Masterlist

Assumptions ✨by MrsTanaka (oneshot, soulmate au) Soulmate AU in which the name of your soulmate is tattooed on your wrist.[COMPLETED]

Your Shoujo Prince by queensbury ✨✨💖 A collection of unrelated Ukai x reader stories. [COMPLETED]

Smoke Stop ft. Keishin Ukai ✨✨by cloudnine_1 (oneshot, enemies to friends to lovers, angst,hurt/comfort) You were a hard working marketing manager working in the Miyagi prefecture. But one day while rushing again to work, you happened to bump into a blond haired man at a smoke stop who may have annoyed the hell out of you for no reason, and he seemed to think the same. Just wait until he realizes that your grandfather is the coach of Nekoma High’s Volleyball team-.[COMPLETED]

Something More✨ by melremade (friends to lovers, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, smut)In the ten years that you’d known Ukai, how could you never have noticed the way he looked at you?[COMPLETED]

A prevailing Love✨ by @liillyliilly (oneshot, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, humor, idiots in love, love confessions)a memory from childhood- getting locked in the bathroom. the life he's living now still carries themes from his teenagerhood.[COMPLETED]

The Way To A Woman's Heart Is Through Her Stomach✨  by  theacevampire (oneshot, enemies to lovers, fluff, humor, implied smut)I always thought the blonde cashier at the Sakanoshita Market was cute. Until he opened his mouth.[COMPLETED]

Unexpected Connection by Teapots_and_Teacups (oneshot, fluff)You're a divorced mother to 8 year old Takeru. You find an romantic connection with Ukai Kenshin thanks to a chance meeting at a mixer. You didn't know that technically he already knew your younger brother Tooru.[COMPLETED]

seek the light✨ by sanktaallina (oneshot, friends to lovers, fluff, smut)ack home after losing your job, you wander into a convenience store not realizing you would see a familiar face.[COMPLETED]

Is There Anyone Out There? by FearTheDerpyCone (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff)Soulmate AU with Ukai where whatever you write on your own skin shows up on your soulmate's skin as well.[COMPLETED]

Fly (Keishin Ukai)✨ by KarasunoParkingLot (fluff, hurt/comfort, amnesia, mutual pinning)They said she would be the best player in the world. Four years on and she had not touched a Volleyball since. However, what happens when she finally decides to turn her life around and becomes the assistant coach for her younger brothers volleyball team? [COMPLETED]

I Still Love You by @awearywritersworld (angst)Your younger cousin Hinata is desperate for someone to fill in as Karasuno’s volleyball coach until Takeda is able to find a more permanent solution. You oblige, eventually meeting the man who accepts the job, your ex, Ukai Keishin.[COMPLETED]

Second Chances✨ ✨by applescentedcandle (smut, fluff)It was supposed to be a one-night stand with a man you had nothing to do with, in a town you only visited once in a blue moon. You were a lawyer in Tokyo, he owned a shop in Miyagi. You were never supposed to see each other again.[COMPLETED]

The Upside of Change ✨by melremade (oneshot, friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort)You had been Ukai’s best friend for so long that he never saw it coming—the realization that he was in love with you. And now that he knew, how could things ever be the same?[COMPLETED]

Piss Off Your Parents ✨ by @lostinthewiind (series, fluff, eventual smut)freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.[COMPLETED]

petty game of cards by @ushiko (oneshot, ) Just keishin getting his ass whooped by his girlfriend in speed. [COMPLETED]

Five by glassandroses(oneshot, fluff, humor)You and Keshin have always had a strange, flirty banter when you come to his shop every Sunday. It only escalates when he refuses to let you pay for your tea, so you did what you do best…You played a little game.[COMPLETED]

[bl-bracket]

Anyways I was going to make a post about the process of picking bracket topics and whatnot and was trying to come up with some examples of types of topics that would or wouldn't work and for whatever reason I thought of the concept of a "best murderer bracket" and I can't stop thinking about it lmao

it's just like such a funny concept? the idea of fictional murderers battling it out, especially ones from bls (which like I don't think is most people who are not super familiar with the genre as having a lot of characters who have killed people) is just funny in like an absurd way. like abstracting yourself from tumblr and tournament blogs, the idea of telling someone else that there's a tournament going for fictional murderers from east asian mlm tv shows, a genre that for several years was primarily shows about high school and uni students.

anyways that devolved into thinking about it more seriously, and then deciding a more practical way of doing it would to make some kind of directory of bl murderers. which would then lead to a lot of interesting statistical analysis, like characters with highest on screen kill counts, which countries have the highest proportion of fictional killers, etc. you can then make a separate category for characters with implied kills that aren't explicitly shown on screen or vague. and you could track how the number increases over time, which I assume exponentially goes up as more bls are exploring darker and more serious genres.

anyways back to the country stats, I started thinking about what the breakdown would look like so here's my guess based on zero research and just my general knowledge of shows

China. While having very few bls (censored or otherwise), they have a very unfair advantage and that is genre conventions. The 3 biggest Chinese bls I can think of are: The Untamed, Word of Honor, and Guardian. With The Untamed and Word of Honor, the conventions of xianxia and wuxia genres means that there are a lot of characters and almost all of them have killed before (usually nameless canon fodder but still). And then with Guardian, it's a supernatural detective mystery show with murder plots in it and a lot of characters, which again leads to a pretty high kill count. So even only counting these 3 shows, China will probably have the most killers in bl, or at the very least most kills done.

Thailand. It's a numbers game on this one. There's just so many Thai bls and an increasing number of like detective or mafia ones. A show like Kinnporsche has a lot of killers and deaths. Then there's other shows that include a few murderers (but less than Kinnporsche) like The Sign, Manner of Death, 4 Minutes, 3 Will Be Free, Never Let Me Go (Palm did shoot a couple guys dead elt's nto forget), Dead Friend Forever, etc. However the numbers also hurt Thailand in terms of proportions, since there's a lot more Thai bls that don't have murder, so it actually might be 3rd.

Japan. You're not getting much murder from your Cherry Magics and Old Fashion Cupcakes, which is what a significant portion of bl fan's primary exposure to Japanese bl is, but let's not forget that there's a lot of dark Japanese bls where murder is definitely on the table. Now I don't actually have a good gauge of what the numbers on this is, cause I haven't really delved that deep into this corner of the bl market, so I can't make a good estimation but I bet there's more than I'm aware of.

Taiwan. They've got a couple of mafia shows like HIStory 3: Trapped and Kiseki: Dear to Me, both of which have some implied and explicit murder (though less then you would expect if we're honest). That'll give them a few kills and they also have a relatively smaller pool of shows to pull from, meaning percentage wise it's a bit higher.

South Korea. Ok I am far from an expert of bls from South Korea, but unless there's like obscure short films I'm not aware of, the only drama I can think of from here with kills is Long Time No See? or I guess The Director Who Buys Me Dinner has like 1.5 murders? anyways Korea also has a not insignificant amount of bls to their name so proportionally it will be quite low.

The Philippines. Out of all the countries on this list, I am least familiar with the bls from here, but from what I've gathered during my routine mdl searches, basically all of them seem to be murder-free (unless of course there's some shocking plot twists in them)

anyways I'll probably never do this project just cause it would require a lot of time and collaborative effort and I've got a lot irl going on right now (hence why the submission period for most whipped is so long lol) and also have some other projects I'm already planning on doing so I don't really have time to do it. but I wanted to tell y'all about my thoughts on the matter.

also sorry if this is the weirdest thing I've ever posted. kinda had a major stress breakdown today but then resolved it relatively quickly cause I realized I could just reschedule the life altering appointment that was causing the breakdown lmao so I'm in a strange frame of mind lol

[sparklingchan]

The way I love you || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Lee Know

Word count : 4k+

Warnings : Sexual implications, making out, prostitution, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, cuss words.

Genre : Romance, angst, royal AU, suggestive.

Description: He was a prince, bound by his duty. She was a harlot, longing for someone to love her truly. In stolen moments beneath the moonlit city, they dared to dream of a love meant to be.

A/N : HELLO MY TUMBLR FAM! I'm back again with the Royal fics haha. And this time it's my boi Lino<3 I hope y’all like this! It's one of my favorites!

And as I promised, I'll make a masterlist for all the Royal fics. Here is the link. Do check out the other fics in this series(the stories are not interrelated)!

Minho hates coming to the main market; he hates the sticky workers bumping into him, he hates the smell of burnt meat, he hates the sound of noisy instruments people play in the name of music.

The only things he does like about the market is the wine, and you.

"Here for y/n again, my Prince?" One of the courtesans-Taylor- asks him just as he enters the tavern. She wears the brightest of lipsticks and smells like jasmine.

"I'm here for the wine." He says, which is only half a lie.

"As you say, my prince," Taylor giggles, "Your y/n is on the third floor as always. She hasn't had any customers today."

He walks the flight of stairs without breaking sweat and knocks on your door, excitement bubbling inside him.

The door opens and he catches a whiff of your rose scented perfume.

"Well, hello there," you smile at him, "Long time, huh?"

He chuckles, "It's only been three days, y/n."

You pull him inside by his collar, shut the door behind him and immediately draw your mouth to his.

You'd missed him, clearly.

In your dark lit bedroom, many men entered everyday for the purpose of their pleasure. But Minho was the only who entered this room everyday only to please you.

"Excited, aren't we?" He asks you when you push him onto the bed and climb over him, "I missed you, y/n."

You kiss him again; this time with more force, more passion and a lot more tongue. He reciprocates your action with equal enthusiasm.

As the night grows colder and darker, you find yourself cuddling with the man under your quilt. The love bites on both of your bodies barely visible under the light of a single candle.

"I wonder what magic keeps me coming back for more everyday. " Minho says softly, his fingers playing with your hair.

"Oh, does the 'Perfect Prince' not want to be seen in a whore's bed? Does it embarrass him?" You ask, playfully.

His mouth twists into a smirk, "Never. Not even in a thousand years."

He kisses you again and again and again until the last candle dies out and the quilt finds its place in some corner of the floor.

*

"Taylor, it's too early to be bothering me with customers!" You yell first thing in the morning, still sleepy and still cold from the absence of Minho's body against you.

"Y/n, it's not a customer. I need to talk to you." She yells back, "Open the door."

Groaning, you push yourself towards the door.

"What is it?"

Her face lacks the usual cheerfulness. She looks grim. Sad, almost.

"Minho didn't wanna wake you up," she pulls an envelope from her pocket, "He asked me to give you this."

"Okay. I'll read it later." You mutter. It's not unusual for Minho to deliver love letters for you sometimes. What's so special about this one?

"Y/n, read it." Taylor says, "Now."

There's an underlying urgency in her words that she tries to mask but doesn't escape your notice.

You walk back to your bed and open the letter.

Hi, y/n.

This is probably the last time that I'm writing to you. I feel sick even just at the thought of being without you but I have to do my princely duties now.

I'm getting married to Princess Sophie soon. My father commands it.

Y/n, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me someday. I really meant it when I said I loved you.

Minho.

Inside the half empty envelope are a few coins of gold.

He paid you. For sleeping with him. For the first time ever.

It's as if the air is forced out of your lungs. You find it hard to breathe, hard to keep your eyes open, hard to even comprehend Taylor's questions.

You're not even in that room anymore.

You are by the river at midnight, with Minho. He'd set up a fire and covered the both of you with a quilt while he sung a soft melody.

You are in the rain, shouting profanities at each other. That was the day when he first told you he loved you.

You are at the tavern's terrace, kissing him for the first time.

You are at the Royal Palace. That's the day he first sees you, bold and loud, not afraid to say 'no' to sleeping with his monstrous father.

You are at the main market, buying a new pair of earrings when an injured Prince shows up at the shop. That's when you first see him.

You only had one regret at present.

You never got to tell him how much you loved him.

*

"Y/n, I know you're grieving but you cannot refuse customers anymore. You know this is what brings food to your table!" Taylor wraps a shawl around your half naked frame, "You always knew Minho could not just leave the palace and come live with you in this brothel, didn't you?"

You'd had another episode today; screaming and punching a customer while he tried to take your clothes off.

That's three days in a row.

If Taylor hadn't been there, the boss would have killed you with his own bare hands.

"I know," you say, "But I just...can't. I cannot bring myself to accept the fact that he burnt down the past year to the worth of a few coins. I have no lust for gold. I have no desire for a family, especially when my own father sold me here. I only loved him and now, he's fucking gone."

Taylor rubs your shoulders gently.

"Y/n, I know. But you have to get yourself together or you will only hurt yourself." She replies, "For all I know, he could be already married now. Sticking his fucking tongue in Sophie's mouth."

You look up at her.

"What do you mean? His wedding is today?" You ask.

She nods, "The city has been decorated like never before."

You force yourself out of her embrace and rush towards your cupboard.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Taylor asks.

"Going to crash a royal wedding."

*

Minho has developed a habit of looking for your eyes everywhere he goes. It's not a good one, but he can't seem to get rid of this habit.

And on his wedding day, as he stands at the alter, holding his fiancé's hand while the priest talks about loving, cherishing and honoring Princess Sophie for life, he cannot stop himself from looking for you in the sea of people.

Rich and powerful people from all over the world are present in the hall but somewhere in between these people, he sees a glimpse of someone he knows. Too well, in fact.

"Y/n?" He whispers to himself, heart pounding against his chest.

"Minho, are you alright? Your hands are getting sweaty." Sophie whispers but he just shrugs, his eyes glued to you.

As were yours, to his.

You didn't think he'd notice you amongst the velvet clad aristocrats but he did. And you wish he hadn't.

The bride and groom exchange wine glasses and have a sip from it.

"If anyone has any objections to this holy matrimony, speak now. Or hold your peace forever." The priest announces and the room goes quiet.

Of course no one would object to this wedding.

No one except you.

Minho sees a single hand raised among the crowd.

"Yes, miss?" The priest says.

"How could the prince marry another woman when his child grows inside me? What about the seed that he left behind? If I choose to give birth to this child, will it be your successor, my prince?"

Minho feels the blood drain from his face.

"You! How dare you?" Minho screams at you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. He would never speak to you in this way, but he has to. To protect you from this mess you'd created, he must be harsh.

He is the prince and he will be safe but you, they wouldn't spare you.

"How dare you?" You yell back, eyes bloodshot, "Do you think a few coins could make up for what you did to me?"

"Quiet! You whore! Dare you to disrupt a royal wedding with false accusations?" The king-Minho's father finally speaks. "Guards! Take her to the guillotine and bedhead her!"

"Father, no! I will deal with this in my own way." Minho says, almost losing his calm. "Guards, take the woman to the dungeons."

Your tears roll down your cheeks and you quickly rub them off with your hand as the guards take you down to the dungeons. You're sure he's gonna get you killed.

You take one last glance at the man you love and smile at him.

So long, Minho.

*

The wedding is called off and Princess Sophie storms out of the wedding hall along with her father. Of course, Minho's father was furious.

"I will kill her. I will kill her with my bare hands!" The king slams his fist against the table, "She ruined everything! Everything!"

"Father, please calm down." Hyunjin-Minho's younger brother says. "We have to think of a way to make up with Princess Sophie and her family."

"He's right. Being angry won't solve our problem." Minho says, twirling the wine in his glass, a playful smile on his face.

The king glares at his eldest son, walks toward him and smashes the glass from his hands.

"How dare you sit in my room, relaxed as ever, while you've fucked up so bad?" He yells, " You slept with a common whore, impregnated her and I have to suffer for it?"

Minho wants to defend himself but he knows it's of no use when the king raises his fist in the air and punches right at Minho's nose.

Minho smells the blood before he sees it.

Hyunjin tries to stop the king and mouths at Minho, leave now.

Minho does as he is told.

That night, as he cleans the blood from his face, he finally let's himself relax a little.

Today was a blunder, a total disaster but at least he didn't have to marry some other woman. He couldn't imagine life with a woman he didn't love. He considered himself a coward for not fighting for you enough, which is why you were in prison. Nevertheless, he swears to himself that he will save you from this mess. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would make sure you're out of prison by tomorrow.

"You're a reckless idiot, y/n." He mutters to himself, "But you're my reckless idiot."

*

You've never seen Taylor look this sad before. Her eyes are bloodshot and the tip of her nose shines red.

"I told you," she says to you, handing you some food, "I told you not to do this. Now look what they've done! Minho has you locked up and you can be sentenced to death any minute!"

"Well, it was worth a shot, really." You say to her.

Taylor snickers at your words, "Also, are you really pregnant or did you make it up to get his attention?"

You chuckle, "Of course I'm not pregnant. I just thought it would add a bit spice to the drama."

"Fine. Whatever. Just do not die on me, y/n. I swear. You're my.." Taylor sucks in a deep breath, "You're my only family. Please."

You blink your tears away before Taylor even notices. You take a spoonful of the porridge she made and stuff it in your mouth so you'd forget about her words. You're too weak for this right now.

"Y/n, just promise me-" Taylor is interrupted by the prison guard.

"Prince Minho is here to see you."

Even the porridge in your mouth does not stop your heart from aching and your eyes from tearing up.

Why is he here?

"Your majesty." Taylor greets him with the basic courtesy. You, on the other hand are looking at everything but him.

"Taylor, may I have a word with y/n alone? My guards here will take you up to my room. I have something important to discuss with you as well."

Taylor nods with a word and follows his guard.

Now it's just you and him. In a jail cell. While your heart breaks knowing he will serve you with capital punishment.

Is it the heavens punishing a common whore like yourself for loving the prince?

Perhaps.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Minho says in a soft whisper. His voice is filled with concern but you cannot look at him. Absolutely not.

If you even as much glance at those eyes you'd fallen in love with, you know you might lose all your will power.

"Fine." You reply sternly, "What do you want?"

Minho sucks in a deep breath, "I wish I had more time to explain but it'll all make sense some day, okay? For now, just trust me."

He offers you a vial of clear liquid.

"It's not anything bad, I swear. Just trust me, please. " He puts it on your palm.

His touch sends shivers down your spine.

And just like that, he turns around and walks away.

You stare at the vile in your hands and for a split second, you wonder if he'd handed you some type of poison. You wish he did.

And when you open the vial and gulp down that bitter liquid, you pray to the gods that you never wake up again because that's when your body hits the ground.

*

Hyunjin is anxious from the moment he wakes up in the morning.

He's anxious while he has breakfast, he's anxious while he avoids the eyes of palace officials to sneak into the old quarters of his mother.

He's especially anxious when he sees you lying on the bed, lips pale and stiff.

"I hope this works for God's sake." He pulls out a vial of purple liquid from his pocket and carefully, pours it into your mouth.

He curses Minho for handing him with the scariest possible task ever.

And as he paces the room, waiting for the antidote to work, he prays to every God, every spirit, every deity he's ever heard of.

Within a few minutes, much to his relief, your eyes open.

You look at Hyunjin alarmingly.

"You..You're his brother." You say, almost as if accusing him of a crime, "Aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm Hyunjin." He seats at the foot of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. But my head hurts real bad." You reply, "Where's Minho? That bastard gave me a bitter drink and disappeared!"

Hyunjin notices your hopeful gaze go from the ceiling of the room to his face and then to his outfit. The mourning outfit.

"Why are you in mourning? And why are you wearing that badge with a dove on it?" Your voice is alarmed and you immediately sit up.

You remember Minho had once told you that the dove badge worn by the Royal family implies a death of a member of the Royal bloodline.

"Is Minho okay?" Your words are almost a whisper.

"Well, y/n, it's a little complicated, I will be honest but if you come with me now and trust me on this-"

"Why the fuck does every keep on asking me to trust them? What is going on? Either let me die in peace or let me leave this palace! I cannot take this anymore. And, for the love of God, would you tell me if Minho is okay or not?"

"He's alive." Hyunjin sighs, " Everyone thinks he committed suicide last night. The city is mourning the death of their crown prince. "

You're confused, "But he's alive, right?"

Hyunjin manages a smile, "Yes, he's alive. He staged his death and is waiting for you by the river bank. "

You jump out of the bed at once, heart pounding against your chest.

"Take me to him, please."

*

The river bank is the most beautiful place in the city, filled with shops and tourists and traders and singers and life. It's beautiful. Unlike your room in the brothel, which was as lifeless as anything could get.

The only one who made that room lively was Minho.

Minho who taught you to play cards, Minho who once beat up a customer because he was harassing you, Minho who promised he'd give anything to get you out of that hell hole.

Minho who loved you.

Now, Minho stands by a boat, wearing a straw hat and gripping his sword tightly. Taylor stands beside him, a brown package in her hands.

And when Minho's eyes meet yours, you run to him as if he'd run away if you didn't, disappear into thin air, leaving you alone in that cold dark room once again.

And oh! Minho is so warm as he wraps you in his embrace. He's warm like the sun on the coldest winter morning, warm like a cup of tea, warm like a freshly baked cookie. He's warm and he's yours.

"What..what is going on?" You sob into his embrace, "Please, will you stay with me? Minho, please?"

Minho is crying too, which is surprising because you've never seen him cry. Upset maybe , but crying never.

Yet here he is crying like a newborn baby, crying because a part of him knows he's managed to save you somehow.

"I'm not leaving okay?" He says, still crying, caressing your cheeks, "We're gonna go far from this city. We're never coming back okay?"

You can only nod as Taylor gently pats your head.

"This is a farewell gift. From me." She smiles at you, handing you the package, "It's a wedding dress that I made. I hope you can wear it when the day comes."

And you're crying again. But this time, you're crying into Taylor's embrace. It's hard leaving behind someone who loved you like a sister.

"We'll write to you. We promise. As soon as we find a proper place to stay, we will write to you both. " Minho says, to Taylor and to his brother.

"Sorry for burdening you with this country. " Minho whispers when Hyunjin hugs him, "I hope you forgive me someday."

"Bullshit. Really, I've always wanted to kill you and get this crown for myself. You only made my job easier." Hyunjin jokes, patting Minho's back.

Minho chuckles. The boatman catches his eye and points to the sun.

"We should get going now, y/n. They'll be holding a prayer in the afternoon and we cannot risk anyone seeing us before we leave."

You nod, kissing Taylor's head softly, holding her gift close to your chest.

"Do visit us sometime." You say to both of them and they nod in unison.

Minho helps you on the boat and hands a few coins to the boatman.

The soft current of the river pushes your boat farther away from the shore, Taylor and Hyunjin wave goodbye to you. You feel horrible leaving behind the city of your birth. You feel empty and cold.

But Minho wraps his arms around you and the coldness vanishes. Minho is warm, and from now on, he's only yours.

*

4 years later.

"Your baby is fucking killing me, Minho." You groan as you get up from the sofa in your bakery.

You'd been sitting and munching on cookies for way too long perhaps.

"Hey, don't curse in front of the baby." He hushes you, caressing your bump. You feel the baby kick again.

You both laugh.

"Come on." He takes you by the hand and drags you to the sofa once again, ignoring all your protests.

Ever since you'd entered the seventh month of your pregnancy, Minho refused to let you do any work. And by any, you meant any work that involved physical activity.

In the mornings, he forced you to watch him sweep the floors whilst you made him breakfast. In the afternoons, he forced you to sit at the cash counter of your bakery and watch him bake stuff tirelessly while you interacted with the customers.

In the evening, he gives you snacks while he cleans up the bakery for tomorrow.

In the night, he holds you close while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

It was a routine but you'd come to love this routine.

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

"What are you thinking?" He pulls you closer and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Just something. " You reply, embarrassed.

"Tell me, love. What is it?"

And how could you ever say 'no' to him if he used that tone on you?

"Well, I was thinking," you mindlessly fiddle with his fingers, "Do you ever regret giving up the throne for me? I mean, you're royalty. And here you are washing dishes and baking cookies every day. You could have lived a lavish life, you know."

You sound sad, guilty even.

Minho chuckles at you. But doesn't say anything.

Instead, he pulls your face closer and kisses you. Passionately. Softly. Lovingly.

When he pulls away, you feel breathless.

"Does that answer your question?" His sincere eyes look into yours, his hands on your belly, "I wouldn't trade this for the world."

You pull him back in for a kiss because that's all you'd ever wanted to hear.

And because Minho is warm and he smells like cookies and he's yours.

[candywife333]

Damn, Dude's Horny

PART 5 of Just Want to See you Like That

This series is based on Jungkook's 3D and is probably going to have close to 6-7 parts, depending on where the storyline takes me. I'm feeling a bit dramatic, so expect a lot of angst. Tumblr is going to be referenced in this fic under a different name, Bumblr (I know, totally goofy name).

Summary: Y/N, an overworked employee at HYBE , only ever posted on Bumblr when she was feeling cornered. It was truly her escape. She didn't really do insta or even twitter. Most people would look at her and think this glass wearing quiet girl would most probably be posting pics of flowers and cute animals. But no, looks could be deceiving. Y/N's posts were far from innocent. In fact , they were borderline risque. She didn't expect anybody but a few horny people to come across these pics; people who would view and compliment in the best case scenario. What she didn't expect was that a certain star would be a regular consumer of her material. A star that technically had no business simping after her like that.

Disclaimer: This work is not representative of the real Jungkook's personality and behavior. It is merely fiction and please treat it as such.

Trigger Warning: voyeurism, exhibitionism, may or may not have dub-con later on

Please don't read the fic if any of these themes are disturbing or offensive to you.

Taglist is open

I grumbled under my breath the entire way back to my house. I still couldn't believe I was going back home with my literal harasser; a guy I barely knew. I thanked the cab driver and grabbed Jungkook to help him out of the car. His majesty obliged my poor effort by grabbing one of my tits with his right hand and my back with his other, shoving his face into my collarbone , hot breath gliding over my skin, making me shiver.

Climbing up a flight of stairs with a heavy man leaning on me would not be pleasant. But with some grunting and cursing, I finally got him up to my solace, my beautiful home; the one redeeming quality in my life. My grandmother had left it to me. Initially it was a house with two separate floors, with separate kitchens on each floor. The floors were connected by a staircase, but were otherwise two separate units. With the tough financial constraints of having to fund my own life, I leased the bottom floor to a renter, so I could get some sort of passive income to save in my bank account.

In my opinion, the top floor was the best floor. I kept a beautiful terrace filled with a full nursery of flowers of many varieties and vegetables aplenty for me to cook with. With how much produce I got from my garden, I barely had to venture out to the farmer's market for fruits and vegetables. My roses, my babies were all lined up in a row, merely swaying with the night breeze. Placed right next to it was my sofa swing, adorned with fairy lights in the center.

Gazing at my little plant babies to calm me down, I placed Jungkook on my sky blue comfy roll out sofa. He would be sleeping on it tonight. Placing a cup of water and 2 ibuprofen pills on the coffee table next to his sleeping form, I pushed him onto his side to ensure that he wouldn't choke on his own spit and die.

I walked into my bedroom, showering quickly and put on a pink babydoll lace top and matching shorts. I turned off my lamplight, getting my alarm ready for the next day.

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

I got up in the morning in a surprisingly good mood, despite what had transpired the night before. I opened my window, feeling the cool breeze filter in. My only suitors, the bevy of morning glories outside my window had changed into a mauve shade in the presence of weak sunlight.

I decided to forgo my robe. It was my house, why should I feel uncomfortable in it? He was the unwelcome guest. I ventured out to see him sprawled out onto the pull out couch still knocked out. I don't know how a human being could look so ethereal even with drool dripping down his chin. I guess that's what glutathione drips, thousands of dollars spent at a dermatologist, and good genes does for a person.

I decided to whip up a hearty breakfast before heading into work around 10 AM since there wouldn't be much to do today. I worked on dicing vegetables for the japchae I would make and got some salmon out to lightly fry with a marinade. I made a few omelettes, cutting up a few of them into tiny strips to go with fried rice for lunch. The last item to be made was kimbap stuffed with chicken and spicy mayo sauce I had already made yesterday.

As I was busy getting everything together, I failed to notice the man slowly waking up near me.

Jungkook's POV

I woke up to what seemed to be the faint noises of cooking. It was quiet except for some soft humming and the faint sizzle of oil simmering in a pan. The smell was spectacular, the scent of meat and noodles permeating the place. I sat up slowly to be greeted by a sight so different from what I was prepared for. The house was very quaintly decorated, like something in a movie about fairies and elves.

There were two humongous bay windows filled with soft looking pink cushions next to them and numerous other sofa cushions strewn over the house giving the place a cozy feel. Daylight filtered in and I caught the sight of humongous maple trees and flowers of different varieties clustered outside the windows. A wind chime sat next to the window, making faint musical harmonies with the birds chirping outside.

The place looked like a cross between a tree house and a cottage, yet somehow furnished with cozy interiors of pink and baby blue. I couldn't believe a place like this existed in Seoul. It must be super expensive to acquire this space.

My cheeks blushed as I was met with an even more delectable sight, Y/N was at the kitchen, back faced towards me. She was cooking something at the stove, expertly flipping what seemed to be numerous omelettes and grilling fish. It was my lucky day. Her scrumptious ass was faced towards me. She was in a dainty baby doll dress littered with little flowers, her ass framed by pink silk shorts that barely covered her. Her thick thighs and voluptuous butt were even more accentuated as she bent upwards to reach for something in a cupboard above.

If she looked so perfect from the back, I couldn't wait to see what she looked like from the front. I had never seen her so scantily clad, and I was already frothing at the mouth. She was my dream girl when I found her online, and after seeing her in person, I merely confirmed my prior assumption. She was definitely the one for me. Her sassy mouth, confidence, strength, and her beautifully addictive body could not go to any other man but me.

She turned around and as my jaw dropped seeing her plentiful cleavage spilling out of the bounds of the top, begging to be squeezed and kissed, she quirked her eyebrow at me, "Aren't you going to leave now? Wouldn't want your presence disturbing my brunch".

taglist: @fortunecookiesworld, @sporadicarcadebanana

@darkuni63 , @jessicalynn85 ,

[racinginchid3nt]

keep your dumbass thoughts off george’s tag please <3 if you wanna be stupid do it in your own corner of the internet

Welcome to tumblr, you must be new here so I’ll take it upon myself to offer some helpful guidance. Some of us have been around tumblr and f1 tumblr specifically since the early/mid 2010s so maybe you haven’t learned yet that hashtags are supposed to correspond with the topic (and not necessarily just positive things), which it does in this case!

And there’s also a thing here called free will, where you can scroll right on past the things you dislike. Or even use that fun little block button we all have access to.

Also, I worked for years in marketing/pr specifically for sports! In fact, I now teach classes on it (amongst other things). So while you may disagree with my opinion, I do (unfortunately for you) have the credentials to back myself up! Best of luck babe have a great day