Ntywbsl
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Summary
“Do you remember who I am?”
“No,” Yoonchae says truthfully. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m Megan. We live together. Housemates.” She says it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
(Or, alternatively, after Jeung Yoonchae gets into a horrific car crash, she falls into a six-month long coma. When she finally wakes up, she is unable to recall significant parts of the last few years of her life, including all the memories she has of Megan Skiendiel. Little by little, Yoonchae begins to put all the pieces together.)
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- Part 11 of 🚀
Bookmarked by Ntywbsl
18 Jun 2026
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Rumi laughs first, soft, bright, perfectly timed, like she always does, like she’s been doing her whole life. Zoey knows that laugh all too well.
“Well,” she says, tilting her head just slightly, the picture of modesty, “Zoey’s the sugar—” Zoey feels the word land on her skin like something sticky, something that clings. “— Mira’s the spice,” Rumi continues easily, and Mira hums beside her, amused, already leaning into it, already playing along, “and I’m…” There’s a pause— long enough to feel intentional.
Rumi smiles, small and self-aware and just shy of smug. “Well. I’m everyone’s type.”
The interviewer laughs, delighted. The cameras drink it in.
OR:
Rumi, Mira, and Zoey star in a highly-anticipated historical romance drama with a princess, an arranged marriage, and a forbidden love. Off screen, the tropes don’t stay fictional. Between Mira and Rumi's PR-stunt fake relationship, Zoey and Rumi's dating history no one knows about, and Zoey and Mira's secret relationship that complicates everything, the line between performance and reality starts to blur.
It would be easier if it were just acting. There's a script for fuck's sake.
No one is following it.
Bookmarked by Ntywbsl
18 Apr 2026
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I want to die like a citrus tree (but that's not a milkweed's fate) by ILovedHerAndSometimesSheLovedMeToo
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
17 Oct 2025
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Summary
Mira and Zoey don’t know this yet (they will, one day soon, they will), but Rumi died for the first time the Monday after her eleventh birthday.
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Rumi inhaled, the rush of air filling her lungs, inflating that tiny balloon called hope trapped behind her ribs.
“I love you, Celine.”
The words tumbled out of her gracelessly, but so so sweetly. She waited, and all the while, that little balloon grew and grew, the plastic skin of it stretching and thinning with every second before—
“You too,” Celine said back.
‘Pop.’
“Celine,” Rumi tried again, voice shaking as tears she didn’t even know she still had left to shed began to drip down her left cheek. “Celine, I said I love you.”
Or
If demons (even half-demons) could kill themselves, there probably wouldn't be many left. Rumi doesn't know this, yet. She learns.
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Bookmarked by Ntywbsl
18 Oct 2025