#true all art is a reflection of the time it comes from BUT...like art everyone's concept of 'their' time is unique

[kimsaena88]

It's been a long time since I last posted. I’ve been quiet for too long. I've thought about whether I should post at all, but I need to get this out of my head. Out of my heart.

As a Jimin biased ARMY, the last few years have felt like a nightmare. From the negligence and mismanagement by the company, to the excuses and bitterness from the fandom, the euphoric dream has devolved into something so twisted and ugly.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement. I'm utterly heartbroken and disgusted to finally realize what this fandom has become. I should have seen it coming. I was warned before, but I was too blind to see what was right in front of me.

Since I became an ARMY, I have vehemently and relentlessly defended this fandom. However, even back then, I witnessed the hate towards Jimin come from not just outside the fandom but from within. Jimin biased fans were told to “Report and block. Don’t engage.” Jimin fans did just that, but the hate continued to escalate. It got louder. It spread farther. It has since reached the point where it's clear ARMY does not find any of the malicious or threatening rhetoric alarming, and the majority rather doesn’t care.

Recently as last year, ARMYs turned a blind eye to Jimin’s father becoming a target of hate. His father had to turn off the comments on the Instagram account for his café, and deleted any trace of Jimin, it had gotten so bad. Not even a few days later, ARMYs came out of the woodwork to protect and defend JK’s dog from “Jimin’s vile fans”. I could not believe what I was witnessing. In real time. The hypocrisy was deafening.

ARMY has earned the title of the most toxic fandom, and it is speed running towards self destruction. It has become so fractured and disjointed. ARMY now only cares about it’s collective ego. The AMAs drama is proof of this. The way ARMY as a whole went about it was disgusting, and I will never forget what happened.

Jimin was belittled. Jimin was decided as less deserving. ARMYs decided Jimin’s talent and art paled in comparison to RM's. ARMY teamed up with other BTS member’s solo fandoms who openly hate Jimin. Jimin once again was sidelined by his own fandom.

ARMY decided what makes a “true ARMY”.

“If you vote for RM, you are a true ARMY.

If you vote for Jimin, you are a solo.”

This message was shared across all social platforms. This idea spread across continents and was translated globally. ARMYs made it clear that Jimin and his fans are the bane of this fandom. Any ARMY that did stand up for him was vilified and labeled an anti, a solo.

So, being a Jimin fan makes me a solo?! Having Jimin as a bias makes me a BTS anti?! Thinking Jimin deserved an award that would reflect his achievements in America means I cannot be a “true ARMY”?!

Then, I must be a solo. At this point, I don’t even want to be associated with such a hypocritical and hateful fandom. I've tried to stay positive. I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m overreacting. But after what just happened with the AMAs, I can no longer tolerate the blatant resentment of Jimin and his fans from ARMY. And to make matters worse, now that it’s over, ARMYs have collective amnesia, claiming none of this ever happened.

I’m tired of biting my tongue.

I’m tired of feeling like I have no place in my own fandom.

I’m tired of being let down over and over again.

I’m over it.

I’m done.

I imagine many will unfollow my account. But, honestly, it will only prove my point.

ARMYs don’t care about Jimin. They think little of him.

Unlike the other members, he is not allowed to have his own fans.

Unlike other members, he does not deserve the awards he has.

Unlike other members, he’s not as deserving of recognition and praise.

Unlike other members, he is nothing without BTS.

I have seen all of this. I wish I was making it up.

Since chapter 2 started, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, kept complaining about PJMs this, and PJMs that. Always calling PJMs “the worst”, the “most vile”. Never the other solo fandoms. Just PJMs. No other member of BTS has been subjected to the kind of vitriol I’ve seen against Jimin for having solo fans. No other member of BTS has been directly associated with their solos as much as Jimin has. It’s hypocritical and reeks of animosity.

I have seen this mentality even here. Right here in this community on tumblr. It sickens me.

I once did not understand how any ARMY could become a solo, but now I do. When you have to deal with constant bullshit from your own fandom, with no accountability, it’s only natural to want out.

PJMs may get a bad wrap from ARMY, but I understand why they keep growing. Continuing to be an ARMY with Jimin as your bias is impossible. Anyone that claims Jimin is their bias, but has sided with ARMY, until even now, is no Jimin fan. How any Jimin fan can witness what I have and still feel comfortable in such a toxic environment is beyond me.

ARMY has lost it’s heart. There is no more genuine love between fans. Just hate. Hate has clearly won. You are either a “true ARMY” or a Jimin fan. There’s no in between.

So, I choose Jimin.

I will always love BTS, but ARMY is no longer a safe place for me.

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[crustyfloor]

The True Face - Translation (free on Patreon)

This comic, "The True Face" did such a beautiful and (scary) job of fleshing out Mizi's character even more. It surprised me - it's interesting that while it was mostly assumed that Mizi was as naturally oblivious to her environment the whole time as she appeared to be, in truth, her demeanor was a conscious choice- a facade and a defense mechanism in the face of the world they lived in.

The pacing alongside the time Vivinos took to reveal this information is also so significant, as we're following the current timeline, we're obviously beginning to delve into the complexity of Mizi's perspective and story- though, I will say, this comic is a byproduct of Mizi's grieving and trauma, much like Ivan's post-mortem comic, it's not all the "truth", and it's not all unreliable, it's her perspective. And with that, I'm trying to nitpick what may be exaggerations as a result the sheer force of her emotions in the moment and what might have a string of truth to it, now that she's truly reached a breaking point and can't avoid reality to protect herself anymore, can't feign hope when the reality is right in front of her, she's genuinely going crazy in self doubt and guilt, and this distorted self image she has of herself. I believe that's what is trying to be conveyed in two important scenes. First, the one where Sua appears, the cold image of Sua that Mizi has in her head comes and cruelly emotionally peels her open with the first line, "feel like a waste?" What exactly does that mean?

I think in these recollections, Sua delivers this line because she is one of Mizi's first self-perceived "victims,"- the people she regrets having been led to such fates because of her "willingness" to prioritize her own survival over them, and so, she caused their deaths. Especially Sua, the only person closest to her that, in Mizi's perspective, she used and disposed of, the ignorance and hope she played into that led to Sua’s death. What had Mizi been thinking during round 1? (That's what I'll choose to interpret these sequences as, because especially in this official art it gives off the impression that Mizi's the last one standing, sitting on their corpses because she believes she used everyone to her own advantage

So when Sua says "feel like a waste?" that's a reflection of how Mizi feels about herself (Sua's presence in this comic in and of itself in a reflection of Mizi's grief and feelings), if this is survivor's guilt and self-hatred, she hates that this is where doing anything she could to survive got her ("Do you feel like you've failed them? your efforts were for naught?"). Mizi personally villainizes herself for it; that's why it continues with her past speaking directly to her, mocking and reminding her of her own actions that led up to this point. Framing herself as a manipulative and selfish person and convincing her that it's true, I've always correlated Mizi's story to a type of cycle, because her initial naive hopefulness and ambition have always led her to her worst moments, witnessing the death of the people she cared about, even in the past it's put her in danger, she did all of this for herself, to survive, is she proud of herself for achieving it? She's genuinely so full of regret. This is her conscience and her own guilt coming back to bite her; it's a self-deprecating moment of survivor's guilt and grief, and it's such a fascinating moment for her as a character to finally confront

Even the way she (from the past) looks at herself with such distaste and resentment because she knows what Mizi's true nature is like, and then she leaves Mizi right where she is... it is just indescribable and a visceral way of showing Mizi's self-hatred for everything

[chaoticarchivist]

when people ask what my favorite ship from homestuck is, i always say davekat. and when people ask why, i say i just like the art. and, while that's true, i like davekat for other reasons.

i get dave. on a level deeper than understanding. ive lived dave. i know the uncertainty, the fear, the need to keep it quiet, the desire to view it all through an ironic lens, and to keep a facade of everything being cool.

i understand karkat. the want to be older than you are, to prove yourself when everyone else has turned their backs and cast you aside, to make sure your voice is heard no matter what, to show that you can do what no has done before.

dave can't sit in silence. it puts him on edge, and it makes him feel like someone is going to hop out and attack. his thoughts wander from sick beats to terrifying paranoia in record time. luckily for him, karkat is loud and says exactly what he thinks. there is no guessing or silent uncertainty. there's only them.

karkat stresses over alternian rules. he'll never feel completely comfortable with his trollian counterparts because, in the back of his mind, there will always be the voice of a forgotten prophet reminding him that he's a mutant. luckily for him, dave doesn't give two fucks, as far as the amateur rapper is concerned, they bleed the same.

they are foils of one another. mirrors with imperfect reflections. knights who are burdened with the responsibility of holding it all together, despite their own uncertainty about where they stand in the mess.

dave, burdened with the knowledge of how truly insignificant they all are in the grand scheme of the alpha timeline. karkat, burdened with the understanding of how easily people turn on one another and how fragile peace really is.

they see each other. recognize the familiar frown lines that come with hours of contemplating how they could possibly make the impossible work. they gravitate towards each other, pulling one another into their orbit. you're not alone if someone else sees you for all that you are.

so ask me why i like davekat? i'll say its because they bleed the same.

[gaykarstaagforever]

I was going to do a whole journalistic deep-dive of this, but upon further reflection, 1) that would require labor I don't want to do, and 2) everyone but me is probably aware of this kind of shit and over it by now.

But I want to talk for a moment about a new "Country Gospel Christian" artist that is "blowing up" on YouTube and Spotify right now (I'm being sarcastic) named Aisha Sparkle.

YouTube Music, forever may it functionally persist, decided to drop one of her songs into my stream. Curious, I DuckDuckGo'd her.

Oddly enough, no image results matched the picture of the lady tied to the track.

Okay, fine. DuckDuckGo isn't perfect. There's still Google. Let's see.

Okay. She's pretty!

...Is that...the same lady?

Wait. Who the hell is that?

And none of these look like the track art, which looks like this:

Who is THIS, then? There is no way two country gospel singers have that same weird name --

......Wait a minute.

......OH YOU BASTARDS.

Yeah so this is AI generated, at least partially. All these tracks and entire albums have been dumped online, everywhere, in the last couple days, all with different lazy AI art.

The songs themselves are at least some kind of guided AI, because they're lyrically a little awkward at times, but sound like actual songs, with structure. Or it's just a really good AI, trained on this kind of music.

Honestly, the bar for white people "praise and worship" music is so low, it's hard to tell. Just endlessly mash up a handful of vaguely-positive Christian-esque platitudes, maybe start with a hooky chorus, and literally anyone or anything can generate one of these, and it sounds...good enough.

Then synth the music and get an AI voice of a white lady, and bam. Time to generate some money!

I just did one on ChatGPT, with the chorus "We Rise in Glory":

"We Rise in Glory" Verse 1: We lift our hearts, we lift our hands, To honor You, our Maker, Lord, With every breath, we praise Your name, Forever we will worship You, forever we will stand. Pre-Chorus: Through every trial, through every storm, You hold us close, You keep us warm. Our hope is sure, our faith is strong, We’ll rise with You, our souls belong. Chorus: We rise in glory, we rise in grace, Lifted by Your love, we seek Your face. With hearts united, we stand as one, In Your glory, our victory's won. We rise in glory, we rise in You, Our hearts surrender, our spirits renewed. Verse 2: The chains are broken, the dark is gone, Your light has come to lead us on. We run the race, we press ahead, In the power of the cross, we are led. Pre-Chorus: Through every trial, through every storm, You hold us close, You keep us warm. Our hope is sure, our faith is strong, We’ll rise with You, our souls belong. Chorus: We rise in glory, we rise in grace, Lifted by Your love, we seek Your face. With hearts united, we stand as one, In Your glory, our victory's won. We rise in glory, we rise in You, Our hearts surrender, our spirits renewed. Bridge: Let the heavens declare, let the earth sing loud, We are rising, we are shining, we wear the victor’s crown. By Your power, by Your might, we stand, In Your glory, we find our land. Chorus (Reprise): We rise in glory, we rise in grace, Lifted by Your love, we seek Your face. With hearts united, we stand as one, In Your glory, our victory's won. We rise in glory, we rise in You, Our hearts surrender, our spirits renewed. Outro: We rise in glory, we rise in You, Forever faithful, forever true.

Tell me that's in any way substantially different than this:

We all know this is doable and relatively easy now. But it's still amazing to run into it in the wild.

Whoever did this isn't even hiding it, obviously. The AI photos are lazy, and they're flooding the platforms with it. Which is the point. People who stream this kind of music probably won't notice that it's AI slop, because it is just good enough to pass as the mid thing they like.

And they don't seem to notice or care, judging from the YouTube comments.

...Assuming any of those are even real. That's probably part of the algorithm pumping, fake engagement.

Again, we all know this is what can be done now. But to stumble into it is still jarring. Especially when YouTube Music just drops it into an auto playlist.

Interesting note: why didn't DuckDuckGo show me any of these pictures? And why, then, did Google?

My guess is, while both are now using AI in search results, DuckDuckGo might still be sensible enough to weed out AI slop from search results. Because no one is looking for AI slop. And of course Google absolutely does not care, because they want to be the world's foremost AI slop company.

I went hard for awhile with AI art, to understand how it's made and all its quirks. And maybe that taught me something. I don't know. I assume everyone can become canny enough to sniff this crap out.

And clearly we have to, because this kind of thing is only going to get worse.

...Also AI-generated fiddles don't sound quite right. And the lyrics are always off in subtle little ways. And all the songs are around 3 minutes and don't have instrumental breaks.

...Also, Aisha Sparkle? That was the first red flag. It's probably some esoteric SEO thing, but it's so transparent. Issa Sparks would be better. Traylor Switch. Take it seriously, you bums.

All of this still requires a careful human hand to pull off atm, and shockingly, people scamming Christians for money are only willing to work so hard at it. Usually because they don't have to.

And that's certainly not something you need AI for. But damn if it doesn't make it faster!

Also NO, I'm not the one doing this. I like making fun of terrible people, not being one. Plus, why put all of this work in to make garbage for maybe a little bit of money, temporarily? Just make a good thing, if you can, and that could maybe generate a little money forever. You have to really just care about money NOW NOW NOW and nothing else to commit yourself to shit like this.

And if I cared about money, I wouldn't pay to use Tumblr. Like, come on.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 3

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Hey, I hit 4k followers! That's pretty cool, thank you everyone!

Part 1 // Part 2

A snip taken from Le Printemps, by Eugène Bidau

.

It takes you too long to pick a dress the next morning. There was an issue with all of them, one was too tight around your chest that you could barely breathe, the other had a hole in the sleeve that you hadn’t noticed before.

You'd ended up picking something you hadn't worn in a while- sage green with little flowers on it. 

Halfway to the museum, you'd noticed a small stain on the skirt, that had made you frown.

It wouldn't lift with the wet wipe you'd pulled from your bag, and you'd have to settle for hoping he wouldn't see it.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him.

You'd worn a dress in hopes that this was a date- you didn't understand why you wanted it to be a date so badly.

Okay, that wasn't true, you knew you liked him, even though you shouldn't.

It probably wasn't a date, why would he be interested in dating you?

I haven't had a clear thought since, he'd said, you knew the sentiment, wondering, if he was just like every other Alpha, nice at first and then demanding later.

The other Alphas you'd been with- you try not to shudder- they'd been awful, love bombing until you let your guard down, and then getting angry when you tried to deny them something.

The last one had gotten upset that after only knowing him for two weeks, you didn't want to share your heat with him. 

The scorn he'd shown you when you reinforced your denial instead of caving, it had made you curl up and never want to see another Alpha again.

This Alpha could be worse, he could be cruel, waiting to get you alone to trick you into something you didn't want because you'd stolen his coat. The thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nausea over you.

You see your seedy reflection in the window, everything moving too fast for you to focus on except your own gaze.

You would not be taken advantage of.

.

There’s that too much feeling again, everyone is so busy around you as you stand outside the art museum waiting. You see children running past, and dogs, a delighted scream in the distance that makes your chest feel like it’s on fire with the too much of it all. 

Why did the world have to be so chaotic? Why couldn’t it be warm and quiet and peaceful with hints of cracked pepper and bergamot-

You blink, realising you’d been thinking about the Alpha again.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. To get involved with someone that made you feel this way, like you wanted to give in to his demands. At which point would he ask for too much?

Your shoulders drop, you check the time, quarter to twelve.

You turn to leave.

Someone says your name.

You raise your head to find the Alpha approaching. He’s wearing a beige shirt, with large threads that look almost knitted, paired with black pants and another coat that definitely costs more than you can afford. 

Too late, your stomach twists.

You nod your head in greeting.

“Hi,” You acknowledge shyly, “You’re early.”

“Hello, I thought I told you to call me when you got here?”

Your chest squeezes in fright. Was he already making demands?

You keep his gaze, trying to show him a braver you than you were.

“I only just got here.” You challenge, wondering why it was such a big deal.

He nods, raising a hand to push his hair back. You watch him scan the area before letting out a soft breath.

“Sorry, I just didn’t like the idea of you waiting all alone here.”

Was he worried about you?

“I can manage,” You inform him, “I come here all the time.”

He studies you for a moment, looks as though he wants to say something, but decides against it.

“My apologies,” He turns to stand beside you, “Shall we?”

Your stomach flips at his words and you try not to focus on it, or him, and definitely not his smell.

You begin walking.

You try not to touch him, keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to take any part of him he might not be willing to give.

As you walk through the museum’s outdoor park, a lot of people glance your way. Men and women alike, want to steal a look at the man standing beside you. It makes you feel incredibly conscious of yourself, and you feel like the stain on your skirt grows ten times its size in that time.

You wonder if any of their staring has to do with the assumption that you were a mated pair- the thought makes you shiver- the idea that you would be mated to a person that looks like him.

“Cold? Want my coat?” He offers.

You shake your head, not wanting to touch this Alpha’s coats ever again.

“I’m alright, I’m overheating anyway.” You reply, hoping he didn’t ask any follow up questions. Your period would be upon you soon.

“Poor thing.” He soothes.

It almost makes you stumble.

Your eyes widen and you feel a sharp pang in your stomach, his easy comfort swirling in your hindbrain, begging you to curl up with this man in a cozy nest- not a man, you correct yourself, an Alpha.

You’d only walked a few minutes beside him and already you were thinking about bringing him into your nest? Had you gone insane?

You refuse to think about it, focusing on the trees, and the people passing by with dogs on harnesses leading the way-

“Did you grow up in New York?” He asks, his voice breaking into the whirlwind in your head.

You swallow, shaking your head before looking over at him.

Damn- looking at him was a mistake.

You tell him where you grew up on a shaky breath, asking him to reciprocate.

He smiles, calmly responds that he grew up here, bounced around the city a bit. Something about his response, the tone of his voice, tells you that there’s a key part of the story missing.

You don’t pry, knowing better than to ask intrusive questions.

You swallow, smiling at him politely when he looks at you, still trapped in the moment when he offered you his coat.

You catch a group of women with their eyes on William, and when their gaze falls on you, you watch their collective expressions switch from interest to disdain.

You drop your head, finding that maybe the floor is safer to gaze at than your environment.

What were you doing here with him? Why had you done this? You should have just stayed home where you were safer.

“What do you do for work?” He asks next, breaking into the din in your head. 

You turn to look at him with wide eyes, unsure as to why he was so interested in you.

“Uh- I’m- I work in customer service… somehow. I have no idea how I ended up there.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice sounds genuinely curious.

You glance his way, giving him a smile.

“I’m not exactly a person that’s comfortable around people. I like… being alone.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really, but it’s better than nothing.” You let out a breath, “Can’t complain.” You finish with a mutter.

“Something else you want to do?”

You shake your head sadly. You couldn’t very well say that you’d rather not work at all- it would look like you were after his money.

You think for a moment, trying to make something up, and falling short.

“Honestly, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t found my calling yet.”

He nods in understanding, and it gives you the opportunity to ask about his line of work.

“What about you? What do you do?”

“I'm in security,” he answers, “I handle asset and individual protection, and I even get contracted by the government occasionally.”

You listen intently, nodding along to his words. You'd already looked him up and had some idea of what he did, but it was interesting to hear it from him.

“That sounds really cool. Is there a lot of danger?”

He grins, and abjectly, you feel as though you've asked something stupid.

“It can get dicey sometimes, yeah, especially with protecting people.”

“Right, yeah, sorry, dumb question.” You mutter, looking down.

“I like your questions.” He says lowly, angling his head in your direction so that you hear him.

Like a fledgling omega, your heart skips a damn beat.

His eyes are very dark, you try not to trip as you get caught up in them, pools of obsidian, pulling you into him.

He gazes right back, the soft look in his eyes fills your head with delight, makes you forget about breathing for a few moments.

It's something so primal inside of you, a whisper in your head that this… this alpha, might be special. 

You breathe out a short sigh, inching closer, until you're close enough to breathe him in. You close your eyes, taking a deep, slow breath, bergamot and citrus chasing your anxieties away.

You lean in more, hindbrain in control, desperate for more of his scent, his hand is rough on the back of your neck. 

Your nose almost brushes the scent gland on the side of his neck when someone walking past clears their throat loudly.

You jerk, pulling back, brain restarting as absolute horror fills you.

No way did you almost scent a stranger in a public place.

You make a sound of regret, stepping back, his hand slips from your neck, you glance up at him, the scent of desire heavy in the air.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You vocalise, turning away for a second to catch your breath and calm yourself.

“I wasn't stopping you.” He admits, as you continue to breathe.

This was too much, he had too much of an influence on you. His words make your stomach flip.

It was a very good thing, you decided, that you'd chosen a public place. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if you'd been alone. You weren't sure if you had the capacity to stop yourself around him.

He had the hidden ability to somehow switch your brain from rationality to instinct. And that, was the most dangerous thing of all.

“I'm sorry,” you say again, trying not to cry from how overwhelming it is to resist him, “If you- if you want to leave I'll understand.”

“Not at all, omega.” He replies almost instantly, “I want this, don't be sorry.” He reaches out to take your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on.” He guides, taking a step forward to prompt you into walking again.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

.

The sandwich shop has an old feel to it, sitting at the center of the park with lots of seating both indoors and out for dining, the little building looks like it was built at least a decade or two ago. The roof is partially made of glass to allow natural light to spill in, blocked by trees all around except in the direct centre where a large amount of light spills in.

When Billy asks to be seated in the coolest spot, you turn to look at him in surprise, your stomach twisting, heart accelerating as you take in his casual dominance of his environment.

Like other Alphas, he knew how to command a room, though, with him, the assertion was more subtext. He was polite, and yet he always seemed to get what he wanted. It was a dangerous mix, and the implications of what that meant for you scared you a little.

“Is here okay?” He asks, turning to you when the woman at the front guides you to a table.

You blink in surprise. No one had ever-

You study the booth with a little frown, finding it a little too bright for your senses and then your eyes drift two tables down to a darker booth before looking back at him shyly.

“That one?” He asks, already moving.

“Yes please.” You say nicely, following him.

It's nice, you never sit in the booths because it's usually just you when you come here, but the seats are soft, and you can tell the velvety upholstery is clean and has recently been redone.

He slides into the seat opposite to you, his knees bumping yours for a second as he gets settled.

You giggle when they bump you again and he mutters an apology.

“Sorry, it's a little small,” you say, “And you're kind of… not.”

He laughs quietly.

“I'm okay, getting in was the hardest part, and it's not too bad.” You feel his legs extend out on either side of yours, taking up space to get comfortable. 

You can feel your heart beating forcefully as you watch him scan the little paper menu that had been placed on the table before you'd been seated. Finding difficulty in figuring out why exactly he'd taken an interest in you.

“S-so,” you murmur, getting his attention, “You didn't have the coat cleaned?”

His eyes darken, a smile pulling on his lips as he recounts the memory in his head.

“I was curious. I'd deleted the video of you taking it- didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for you- plus I know that omegas occasionally do things on instinct- so when I got it back, wrapped so tightly, I was… just wondering about you a little.”

You swallow nervously.

“And then?”

You feel the molten heat in his gaze as his eyes roam over you.

“And then I smelled the most delicious scent. It made me desperate, made me lose control of my own thoughts for a couple of minutes. The smell of your heat was wonderful, omega. I knew I had to find you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your eyes catch movement of a waitress coming your way.

“Hello, my name is Teresa, I'll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?” She rushes out, smiling politely though you notice that her eyes linger on William for a few moments more.

“We're not ready to order yet,” he says, eyes still locked on you, “Can you come back in five minutes?” 

She nods easily, stepping away with a ‘sure thing.’

There's a beat of silence, where you stare down at your menu and read none of the words, head racing with what you know.

“What are you thinking about getting?”

You blink, glancing up at him and then back down to the menu.

“Um, I usually get the turkey on rye, so maybe that.”

“Got any suggestions for me?”

You hum, deep in thought.

“The grilled chicken pesto always smells so delicious, there's some fresh mozzarella in it too. I've never had it, but it's a popular one.”

“You should try it. Mix things up.”

You smile sadly, glancing at the price of the sandwich in question, the fresh mozzarella near triples the price.

“That's okay, I'll stick with my turkey.”

“Don't worry about anything else. If you really want the pesto, get it.”

His eyes are earnest, and you know there's another conversation happening in the subtext of this one. That he was willing to cover the cost, that it was obvious that it was the source of your hesitation.

You swallow, glancing down at the price once again, figuring that one sandwich wouldn't throw him into debt.

A little lump swells in your throat, you wonder if he would expect anything because of this like alphas before. You figure one sandwich did not give him that much leverage over you. You'd done more damage with his coat and he'd overlooked that.

“Okay, I'll have it. What will you get?”

“Steak sandwich.” He answers, with a smile, just as Teresa appears again.

“Ready?” She asks eagerly.

.

“Why did you pick this table?” He asks, studying you.

You glance over at him, having been distracted by some people walking in.

You're beautiful, he squeezes his fists, fighting himself. He wants to provide for you so badly that it tears at him. He can see how defensive you are, how cautious you act sometimes. He knows that you must have had bad encounters with Alphas to be this wary. He wants to learn you, know you better than he knows himself.

“I have a little sensitivity to light.” You respond, absentmindedly, “I can barely see in direct sunlight.”

He inclines his head, noting for later, to avoid anything that would overwhelm you.

“I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart, it must be so hard to deal with.”

He feels delight fill his body as you give him a wide eyed look, your omega nature appreciating his sympathy to your plights. 

He bites the inside corner of his lip, wanting this sweet, timid omega to be his, very badly.

The urge to have you scent him sharpens, to press your nose to his neck, to have you breathe him in, mix your scents together so that no one would question whether or not you were a mated pair. You'd almost done it earlier, and he hadn't realized how eager he was for it until the moment you'd pulled away.

He had to play his cards right. If he scared you away, he would not get another chance.

.

You talk a lot, about where you grew up, and the schools you went to, and when he tells you about his childhood, you try not to give him any looks of pity, nodding along, eager to listen to everything he has to tell you.

You want to comfort him though, your hands clenching into fists in your lap because you want to reach over and squeeze his hand and tell him you’re sorry but logically you know that you barely know him.

Except that you feel like you’ve known him a very long time. Your face hurts with the amount you’ve smiled, the unfamiliar expression printed onto your face, where you’re usually shy or frightened.

When he asks about you, you feel a little more comfortable revealing personal information. Describing the details of your job so that he understands your day to day work.

“Does it pay well?”

“You know it doesn't.” You grumble sadly, “I would take up a second job if I could, but companies have this rule about how many hours an omega is allowed to work weekly.” You stop talking, waiting to see what stance he was going to take on this. The entire job market was designed to push omegas into the arms of alphas or betas rich enough to take care of them. 

His mouth turns down into a frown.

“They should just pay people liveable wages to begin with. Having a second job would be too much for anyone. At least tell me you get health insurance.”

You make an unsure face.

“For the most part, but there are… big gaps.”

His eyebrows crush together in sympathy.

“You get heat days?”

You nod, taking a few sips of your drink.

“Yeah, they give us three, and I usually have to take two extra sick days because I have longer heats.”

“Wait, they don’t give you days specific to your heat requirements?”

You let out a little awkward laugh.

“No, three heat days, giving more days to some people would be unfair according to them.”

He clicks his tongue, “That must be so hard.” He hums, and something primal sparks inside of you.

Yes, your mind screamed at him, yes alpha, I’m a poor little thing, please soothe me and take care of me and keep me warm and safe and full-

You clear your throat.

“I get by.” You reply.

He shakes his head, deep in thought.

“It’s still not fair.”

.

You let out a slow sigh when you take your first bite of the sandwich.

Eyes closed, you can't believe what you're tasting, that it could be so delicious.

You do your hardest not to take a second bite before finishing the first, determined to savour it.

Across from you, he makes a low hum when he bites into his, and you fight a smile, stomach fluttering, happy that he likes it.

“Maybe you can find another job?” He suggests between bites.

You blink, shoulders dropping.

“I've been trying, it's just not that easy,” You look down at your sandwich, a touch of sadness fills your chest, “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

“It's okay, I want to hear about it.”

You let out a harsh breath, your stomach turning over.

“Why? Because you smelled my heat and decided I was going to be your omega?” You blink, regretting the words as soon as they come out, drawing back into yourself and waiting for him to get angry.

“I'm sorry,” you say when he doesn't immediately speak, “I shouldn’t have- I'm sorry.” You take a shallow breath, feeling the panic grip you tightly.

“Don't apologize, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong.”

You don't meet his eyes, still trying to get control of your fears.

You hear movement, and in your peripherals, you watch him slide out of the booth and to a stand. Oh god, was he leaving? You feel your eyes begin to swell with tears. 

You'd done it, successfully chased him away.

Your breath stutters when his plated sandwich slides in beside yours, and finally, you glance up at him.

“May I?” He asks softly, and you automatically comply without thinking, sliding deeper into the booth to give him more space.

He fits himself in, while you grab a napkin to blot at your tears, a little embarrassed now that you realize he wasn't actually leaving.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, trying to apologize for this abundance of emotion. For sure, it would definitely annoy him.

Your breath stutters when you feel the warm press of his palm to your shoulder blade.

“Breathe, omega, everything's alright.”

You suck in a shaky breath, his scent wrapping around you.

He moves slowly in your peripheral, moving his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

You finally look at him when he touches you, the sensation leaving tingles behind.

“One more big breath for me.” He guides, and you obey, feeling your brain respond to his gentleness.

His eyes are warm, chocolate, a feeling of ease settles into the base of your spine.

“When I smelled you on my coat for the first time, I knew I had to find you. But, finally meeting you, and slowly getting to know you, is what makes me want to stay. You're not my omega, and I'm not your alpha… But I'd like to be.”

My alpha?

Your lips part in disbelief, looking into his eyes, feeling hope swell inside of you.

Maybe he would make a good alpha, maybe he would hold you when you were scared, and kiss your cheek every night before falling asleep, maybe he would hold you tightly and talk to you after sex, and not make you feel like a used item to be discarded-

You shudder out a breath.

“I-I'm not interested in finding an alpha right now.” You stutter out, afraid of his response. 

His eyes remain kind, though there's something in them that makes you think that he's sad.

“I understand, sweetheart. I won't bring it up again.” He turns, bringing his sandwich up to his mouth to take another bite.

You follow his lead with wide eyes, surprised that this was all he had to say on the subject.

After a few bites, shoulder brushing his arm every now and again, you can't hold back.

“You're not… mad?”

You hear him exhale slowly.

“I don't think I could ever be mad at you, little one. I like you a lot, and I'm willing to… be as patient as you need me to be.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And what if it never happens? I don't want to give you false hope.”

To your surprise, he laughs, low and sweet. It brings a smile to your face though you don't know the joke.

“I'm going to have hope whether I want to or not. That's the consequence of wanting.”

Want.

“You want… me?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yes, I guess it was, but…” You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head, “I'm sorry, this is so crazy.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Bec-” You couldn’t say it out loud.

He turns to you, studying you intently for a moment.

“I mean, well, look at me.” You say softly.

He raises his eyebrows.

“You're lovely.” He murmurs.

You can't help the shy smile that it brings to your face.

.

To no one's surprise, he pays.

You let him, because you were in no position to offer any kind of payment, and he was willing to lose a three thousand dollar coat on a whim. 

When he offers you a ride home, you feel comfortable enough with him to accept, looping your arm around his bicep when he extends his elbow for you to take.

The muscle below is firm, and you simmer with delight at the privilege he gives you.

You look around as you walk together, taking in the scenery around, watching as someone throws a frisbee, and a dalmatian runs to catch it.

“I take it you don’t like me, then.” He says, interrupting your thoughts.

“I do.” You blurt so quickly that your brain doesn’t have time to catch up. There’s something aching in your chest at the thought that he was unlikeable to you.

You take a deep breath, smiling sadly.

“That’s the problem. I like you, and that will cloud my judgement. My past experience has made following my heart almost impossible… and alphas…” You swallow, “Alphas can be scary, and they flip so suddenly sometimes,” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “It's dangerous to trust an alpha.”

“It hurts me to hear you say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry, and angry that you've had so many bad experiences with alphas. I'm sorry that they made you feel unsafe. I know it doesn't hold much weight right now, but I'd never hurt you.”

You're almost inclined to believe him.

“I guess we'll see.” You say, giving him a meaningful look.

He grins down at you.

“I like the sound of that.”

.

His car is heavy with his scent. You close your eyes, heart racing, breathing in deep lungfuls, feeling your brain go hazy with it.

Your skin gets hypersensitive, the feel of his leather seats brushing your thighs, the way it feels on your fingertips, makes you drunk in a way you've never felt before.

You don't give him your real address, but one that's a block over so that he doesn't see the hovel you really live in. 

It's hard to focus on anything outside of the vehicle, when his engine purrs to life and the sound vibrates your eardrums gently, he makes sure you're buckled in, before starting off.

He doesn't race, takes his time, moves reasonably. It makes you feel safe, settles you. You'd been a little worried he was an aggressive driver, but you had nothing to worry about.

You blink in surprise when he extends his phone to you, unlocked, his hands catching your eye, a work of art you could stare at for hours.

“Pick some music?” He offers.

You nod, fingers brushing his, and you select something soothing, lo-fi, to enjoy.

You get hypnotised by it, the bergamot and notes of citrus, cracked pepper that makes you hum, delighted. If this was what being in his presence was always like, how would you ever leave?

You wanted to press your nose to his neck, breathe him in right from the source, you wanted this scent soaked into your pores until it followed you everywhere. You wanted this smell in your nest, clinging to your things.

You're so needy by the time he pulls over, eyes glassy with want, you notice his hands are gripping his steering tightly.

“Omega,” he says, a slight tremble to his voice, “Do you want to scent me? It'll help you relax.” 

It wouldn't. You knew it from the bottom of your heart, scenting him would only make you want him more. But your hindbrain's in control now, and all you do is nod shakily, fumbling to unbuckle your seat belt.

He covers your hands calmly, doing it for you when you struggle too many times. You look at him shyly when you're both free.

He gives you a warm smile, before tilting his head up, exposing his gland to you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, a thrumming that fills your head, almost too loud as you lean forward, pressing your face to his neck.

He groans, and you reach to fist his shirt tightly in your hands, taking in a deep breath.

This was your alpha, there was no denying it, no other scent had ever took hold of you the way his did, everything else was rotten in comparison, and you were losing grip of your sanity with each passing moment.

You breathe him in, memorizing it, the extra kick, straight from the source, your hindbrain takes full control in these moments, and you're completely helpless to it.

“Alpha.” You sigh into his neck, and you feel him shudder beneath you.

You tilt your head up, lips brushing his gland, he groans loudly, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out the thrumming of your heart for just a moment.

“That's it, omega," He guides, "Take what you need.”

You whine, if you really took what you needed, he'd already be at home in your nest, ready to make you his.

You tilt your head higher, and he turns to look at you with heated eyes, your noses brush in the quiet of his car.

Someone walking past catches in your peripheral, and you gasp, reeling back, realising where you were.

“S- sorry.” You say, scrambling away, reaching to unlock the door, stepping out and bolting as fast as your legs can carry you, too afraid to look back at him.

It takes you three orgasms in your bed before you begin thinking again.

.

.

.

[hoseoksluna]

THE FUN DAY, pt. I. | kth ft. pjm

pairing: idol!military!boyfriend!taehyung x f. reader (ft. best friend!jimin)

genre: fluff, angst — the sad kind

word count: 4.8k

summary: you've prepared a fun day for your boyfriend's military vacation. thank god he's here, right?

pin: f. / playlist: fun / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: suggestive but not described themes of sex and alcohol consumption.

note: i'm so EXCITED to bring you this fic that i can't wait until tomorrow to post this. everyone welcome TAEHYUNG and JIMIN to the hoseoksluna universe. i have to tell you a secret. taehyung was my first bias when i first became army. taehyungie was the first one to save me from the bunch—literally to resurrect me because in him i found all the things i used to love and fell out of. jazz, poetry, the aesthetics and arts. it is an honor to write about him and i think i will write another taehyung fic next week. if you have any ideas, drop them in my ask box and i will use them for inspiration. this fic is dedicated to my baby ruru @tkslovechild, my tatlim @jjk7k, and the beautiful anon that asked me for a tae fic while i was already working on this one. i love you all so much. enjoy this beautiful piece. <3 mwah.

𓂃 ౨ৎ .

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

It was your love language, to dress up like your boyfriend. 

Dress pants, shirts and jackets. Linen, silk, leather. Pointed heels or oxford shoes. Grays, browns, beiges and whites. It was something that made you happy—and it was something that represented a vessel, made of unbreakable porcelain, for your love that you carried for Taehyung. 

He’s sitting in the corner of your bedroom, on a wooden stool he specifically placed at such a picturesque place. With the ivory curtains drifting along the nape of his neck, sheer enough to expose the small vase of tulips that stoop in a private longing for his touch. He fondles them often to preoccupy his mind when you take your usual long showers and he waits for the fashion shows you give him. He’s the one who says yes or no. These shoes, love. Look, they’re just like mine. And right at this moment, the wine-yellow petals are caught between his slender fingers when you come out and he doesn’t let go of them—because you’re not holding up the outfit for the day as you always are. 

For the fun day as you’ve called it. 

You’re dressed in it. Low-waisted gray dress pants with a little, tight, white shirt. Black stilettos, black shoulder purse. Your trench coat is waiting for you in the hall, hung up and lonely, but other than that you’re matching him fully. It feels as though you’re fading into him, becoming a singular being that has his DNA and his beauty, and when he beams up at you, boxy smile on full show, spine straight and tall on the stool, long fingers gripping its rim, Taehyung, with his gray suit and a white shirt, somehow validates that feeling. 

Somehow, in that peculiar Taehyung way of his. 

He extends his hands towards you, asking for your closeness. There’s a mist of murkiness that envelops him, with the saddened clouds beyond the window, standing in the place of the sun. It moves through you, this image of him reaching for you in this landscape, and you think he deserves to be painted like this. With black charcoal and a little bit of soft carmine to eternalize the blush of his cheeks—the only trace of color in the sketchbook. Your hands don’t know the art of drawing, but your heart does and while you take those necessary steps towards him, you feel the scratches of that dark pencil over that grainy flesh. 

His palms find your curves and you consider it unbelievable, the fact he’s still so big, despite the size of the stool and the height of your heels. No matter how much taller you grow, he’ll always be that tower that protects you from the blazing heat of the sun. 

He’s the epitome of autumn. No longer a boy, but a man, whose lungs are perfumed by apples, leaves, cinnamon, pumpkin spice and the slight iciness of the seasonal wind. Whose eyes witnessed the growth of your form since you were a little girl with two long braids. 

Childhood best friends turned to lovers, favored by the hanging, twinkling stars. 

You always saw him the most in autumn. Chasing you down during festivities that your mom couldn’t not be a part of, grabbing a hold of one of your braided pigtails with his already long fingers, then tickling you until you gave up. Ever so easy to catch because of the length of your hair. You knew, even as a little girl, that he was not just a part of your life, but your life itself. More than a companion, more than a friend. You dreamed about having his babies and that dream would come to life through your imagination whenever he would chase you down, years later, in the grand halls of the east wing of his grandiose family home, where nobody ever comes, just to steal a kiss or two. It was the moment you realized that you were no longer kids, even though you acted as such, but that you desired little legs to follow you in the fun of it all. 

And that kiss changed every autumn from that year on.

Stolen glances, the blush of cheeks, quivering fingers that no longer grabbed your braids. Not until many autumns later. You gave him your everything, every bit of your newly-bloomed femininity, your dream of having his babies and he folded it into the vinyls of his favorite jazz music that he would play every night whenever he needed inspiration or whenever he simply needed you. 

Newly. Not just yet as adults and no longer as kids. Somewhere in between. 

And then the duties of adulthood came. The natural process of drifting apart settled between your bodies and you no longer played in the stage between. Taehyung, the saxophone-playing jazz singer, moving foreign bodies into his personal, heart-sung rhythm. Not yours, never yours for a long time. You, working a day job that never paid enough, not for the dresses you yearned to wear at those clubs he would play at. 

But what you didn’t know was that drifting apart meant coming together eventually. 

He might have become your Turnip Head, silent and distant, but you were Sophie—and you found him. You found him while looking for something, or someone for the lack of better words, and he helped you. Over a cup of coffee he didn’t drink, at a jazz bar you always wanted to come to. Your date was a hit and miss and the guy never came, and your Turnip Head didn’t help you find your Howl. 

He helped you find himself. And from that moment on, you never drifted apart again. 

Who would’ve thought that seeking a relationship that did not resemble your dream nor your childhood would make you find him all over again. 

In autumn, too. 

Taehyung paid for your dresses, your female suits, paid for your drinks. Kissed you underneath those dimmed, brown lights before he went off to play songs that moved your body at last. Dancing alone to his songs was your dream come true until he set down his saxophone and joined you. Let his band mates play his favorite Etta James song as he took your hand and drifted upon the dance floor with you. Those who danced before this song sat down, let you have this opportunity for yourself, and Taehyung kissed you, after a long time, after many autumns had passed, right then and there. 

And both of you realized that you could never drift apart again. You could only drift together. 

You moved in together. He bought you tulips of every possible hue every week. Played you his new songs for you on the saxophone. Took you to art galleries. Took you sightseeing, sometimes alone with you, sometimes with Jimin joining you. Shared your dream about having babies with you and talked about it all the time. Tried it out, seized it many times, though the outcome both of you desired never came. Had a beautiful life with you until…

Until he thinned out into his Turnip Head form and skipped away to fulfill his country duties. 

But he’s here. Oh, he’s here. Buff and big, apples, cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Brown eyes that carry the memory of your growth, hands that clutch your hips and that hold the silky memory of your still long braids. Hands that edge around your slightly, barely puffy tummy and that don’t know that you are with a concoction of a small him and you, a divine magical realism, a dream that came true without his knowledge right after the last hours of his military vacation were up and he had to go back to serve the country. 

The reason behind this fun day. 

The day of his second vacation, the day you tell him. 

“You look just like me,” he breathes, the width of his smile never lessening, hands skipping over the space between your hips and your arms and grabbing your hands. It gets to you still, the way his eyes never look up at you, the way they never have, and you feel so sweetly small. Even more so when Taehyung stands to his feet and slides his suit jacket over your shoulders. You become even smaller, a fawn taken care of. A pregnant fawn. “And now you are me.” 

Oh, he doesn’t know just how much. Not yet. 

He sits back down and gently pushes you to take a step back. On wavering feet, like that freshly-born fawn, you waver on your feet, but Taehyung keeps you stable, leaning forward to make sure you’ve caught your balance. A wisp of his dark hair falls over his eye that he, at last, flicks up at you. And the sensation from it, it is nothing that you ever felt before. 

It is a step forward. 

It’s something that tells you: go ahead. 

You planned to tell him at the jazz bar where he kissed you for the first time as an adult and made you his. But now, now it feels more than right, amidst this strange newness that you don’t think you’ll ever experience again. 

You open your mouth, brace yourself, but Taehyung is faster. Ringing fills your ears, the atmosphere around you feels gooey—as if you’re walking through a limbo. 

“Jimin will meet us at the park.” 

Oh, yes. Walk in the park, a warm drink to go, then the jazz bar. Jimin is having his military break as well, about to sing in Taehyung’s honor, you already knew this, knew he would join you, but being in the presence of your boyfriend, the detail slipped out. 

The newness leaves. Taehyung straightens. Towers over you. The normalcy flattens over the chemistry between you and him, the atmosphere lessening to feathery lightness and when you move your arms to give back his jacket, your arms feel as though they’re not your own. 

Your smile falls. 

Jazz bar it is. 

“We should go,” you prompt, turning around, having all the balance in the world as you go fetch your purse and reapply your red lipstick. 

Taehyung watches you in the mirror, his boxy grin on eternal display, warming your heart. You think about how you can’t wait until his baby witnesses that smile for the first time—and wonder if God is molding, at this very hour, the same one upon their little face. It brings tears to your eyes, ones that you quickly blink away, and instead you focus on lining your lips with the tip of the lipstick with utmost precision. 

In your vast collection of lip liners, you don’t have a red one. Truth be told, you always feared this vibrant color. It represented a stigma you never liked—that only promiscuous women wear that color, but to you it was never that. 

It was a color that meant you lose your girlhood, your childhood upon wearing. 

And now, it is a color that announces the next era of your life: adulthood, but different, painted with motherly instincts that are of these vibrant hues. Womanhood. No longer fearful, but brave. 

Right. 

You want your baby to connect this color to you and know that you made it. You waited your whole life for their father and gave it to him in one of the autumns as a child. Without knowing, without realizing. 

That color is a legacy. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Taehyung kisses the back of your head, halting your motions. Wraps his arms around you as he props his chin on the place he kissed—and right here, right now, you’re looking at a family portrait in the mirror. 

A living, breathing one. With lifting chests in tandem, growing smiles and a growing baby in your womb. 

Magical realism in full effect. 

And then Taehyung is off to fetch your trench coat, holding it up for your arms to slip inside its sleeves. Grabs your hand and revels in the autumn weather outside, boxy smile never faltering. Sings in the car on the way to the park, makes eye contact as he mouths the lyrics—kiss me once and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time—because he could never sing over that part. It’s too precious to his heart for him to do so. 

The wind accompanies you and grabs your other hand as you walk down the pathway lined with half-barren trees and a still pond. Taehyung hums the Bing Crosby song that seems to be playing on loop within his mind and it is the only greenery that spreads around through his husky voice. All else—the pond, the trees and the last of their leaves that dance around you, the shrubberies and the clouds up above—are smeared with sullen blues and grays, to which Taehyung is everlastingly immune. 

Jimin is standing by an antique coffee stand, dressed to the nines in an outfit he most definitely must be cold in. Black dress pants with a jacket that stuns you. A matching Hussar one, with golden braiding. A military piece of clothing from another time. You think it suits the fun day quite delightfully, but not as much as it suits him. The golden detail goes hand in hand with his golden hair and you think he needs his picture taken. 

“Jimin!” you call out, making his confused little face turn in your direction, and he swivels his body to face you altogether. He holds two cups of coffee in both of his hands, one for him and one for you. You melt at that and look up at Taehyung to see his boxy smile ever so frozen and beautiful, pointed at his best friend. 

When you reach him, he hugs you. His cold skin stings you and you quickly warm him up with rubbing motions against his back. Scrunch your brows in puzzlement when he doesn’t hug Taehyung nor even look at him. 

But all is swept away when Jimin exclaims in discomfort and takes a rapid sip of his boiling drink. 

“Jimin, where’s your coat?” you ask him in pity, watching him shake and moan in pain once he burns his tongue. He uses the cup to warm up both of his hands. 

“I didn’t think Paris would be so cold in October,” he explains in a hushed, livid tone, drawing the rim of the paper cup back to his lips as if he didn’t learn his lesson. Typical Jimin. “But this outfit is for Taehyung anyways, so I’ll survive.” 

He talks of him but he doesn’t look at him. Makes heart eyes at the misting coffee, instead. Like Taehyung isn’t here at all. 

Strange. 

You shake off the thought. 

“Go stand by the pond before you freeze. I want to take a picture of you,” you say, softly, pulling your phone out of your purse. Glancing up, you expect Jimin to be ready with his pose, but he’s looking at you as if you said the most outrageous thing in the world. Eyes wide, mouth downturned in horror. You laugh and place a hand on his arm. “Go, Jimin. This is a special day and special days ask for special pictures.” 

Jimin sighs and nods, despite the fact he doesn’t really look like he wants to do it. 

“Fine, but I’m keeping the coffee in my hand.” 

Your tender laughter prolongs. “Fair enough. Go pose with your little heat pack.” 

Gazing out at the pond, Taehyung is already standing there. With his brown coat over his gray suit, he coalesces with the autumnal scenery and you think he belongs there. That a statue should be made of him right where his feet are planted, for people to remember and appreciate his beauty. You snap a few pictures of him before Jimin makes his way towards the stone bannister and stops right in front of Taehyung, who towers over him. Jimin lifts his cup and smiles a little tight smile, the mist from his coffee eclipsing over him like a soft fog. Switching to portrait mode, Taehyung is gone by the time your screen clears out and shows Jimin by his lonesome self, setting his coffee cup down on the bannister and turning around for some dramatic, aesthetic shots. Taehyung laughs in your ear, catches your slipping purse and places it back on your shoulder, and what he says next gives your life a whole new meaning. 

“Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.”

You pivot back, piercing your sight right through him, not believing those words were just flung out of him like that. Taehyung never mentioned you having a protector while being in the military and even the whole concept of it confuses you even deeper as Jimin is serving as well. He might not be in the special forces like your boyfriend is, but he’s serving nonetheless. The systems are the same, no matter the department. 

Before you can ask him what he meant by that, the sing-song tone of Jimin’s voice reaches you. He calls out your name with a bit of alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You gaze back and meet his eyes in full motion—he’s already taking long steps towards you and grabbing your arm, taking your confusion to another level.  

“What happened?” he asks, his pupils thin dots that ripple through your skin with stiff, panicky electroshocks. You glance back at Taehyung to discover that he’s not standing behind you at all, but behind Jimin, clutching his shoulder. 

You blink. “Nothing.” 

Jimin lets go of your arm and inhales the autumnal air. The pond, suddenly, heaves. 

“Let’s go somewhere warm,” Jimin suggests and you agree with him with a nod of your head. Pinpricks of iciness kisses your fingertips, despite the fact you’re still holding your own cup of coffee that Jimin bought you. 

A strange feeling seizes you. 

The jazz bar is an embrace of snug heat that embraces your womb first before greeting the rest of your body. You can’t help but to touch your baby, say to her in your heart: this is your Daddy’s most favorite place in the whole wide world. And the feeling is so surreal that it washes away the strange sensation that clung to you so heavily. 

You’re the first customers to come. Jimin sighs in absolute relief and he’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen in time, as he lets the warmth of the place defrost his bones. Your cup of coffee was long finished and discharged; Jimin’s drank his in long sips that took seconds to finish, too, and the whole ordeal was so funny to you that it’s given you a sense of lightness that you needed. 

Taehyung hasn’t spoken a word since you left your apartment. 

He sits at the bar stool like he sat in your shared bedroom. One leg propped on the footrest while the other is relaxed on the floor, one hand folded on the apex of his thigh, the other drumming on the bar while the band he doesn’t know is rehearsing their instruments. You take a seat right beside him and feel like the parents you’re about to become. Sophisticated, classical, sublime. 

The pretentious kind, but in a good way. 

That thought makes you smile softly until the bartender asks you if you’d like anything. You politely decline her, even though you’d love a glass of wine with the daddy to be beside you. You can’t drink, not for many months to come. You wait for her to ask Taehyung the same question, but she doesn’t even lift her eyes to his direction. She wipes down the wood of the bar and leaps away. 

Nobody fucking asks Taehyung anything. 

Amidst a hearty guitar strumming solo, Jimin notices the furrow of your brows, the downturned pout of your mouth that opens to ask Taehyung about the strangeness that keeps occurring today. But before you get the words out, Jimin calls out your name into the microphone, the vowels made sweet by the sound of his princely voice. He stands with the band behind his back, his Hussar jacket exquisitely fitting the dimmed background. He holds out his hand for you, a poignant glint perched on top of his irises, and he flattens his puffy, pink lips. 

“Don’t be sad. Tonight is for Taehyung and all sadness is prohibited,” he says with his feigned announcer articulations, the corners of his mouth rounding in a similar manner to yours, in sympathy. “We will have to kindly ask you to leave if you proceed in your sadness. Please, join me here.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile gracing your features couldn’t be erased even with the force of the whole wide world. You stand to your feet and paddle your way to him, the heels of your stilettos clicking on the worn parquets. Jimin gives you a soft grin and places his microphone down, meeting you halfway on the dance floor and taking your hand. 

It is when he begins to sing, just for you, that you perceive that the instrumental song the guitarist played is one, which is contained in one of Taehyung’s vinyls. The ones he would play in the darkest of nights and sing the lyrics to your bare body. Tears prick your waterline when Jimin guides you into a gentle slow dance while maintaining the tones of the song with utmost perfection. 

And Taehyung is carried in every languid motion and in every vocal cord that is strained upon this hour in his honor. 

I’m in the mood for love, simply because you’re near me…

You gaze back at Taehyung, who sits still and smiles his boxy smile. Frozen and beautiful, but unbreathing. 

Still and unbreathing. 

Frozen. 

You halt your movements. 

Jimin stops the dance, ends the song with a deep hum that pulses through you along with the notion that something isn’t right, but very, very wrong. 

“I wish Taehyung were here,” Jimin says with a deep sigh, holding both of your hands, and an uncanny, perplexing feeling constricts your throat. 

Your breath shivers, vision blurry. “But he is here.” 

Jimin lets go of your hands and you lament his touch. You need to be touched because you feel yourself shrinking into a fawn most vulnerable that doesn’t know what’s real anymore. A fawn just born, pathetically ignorant of the world and of her loved ones.

“I know, but I wish he were here for real.” 

A cold sweat drips down your spine, paralyzing you. Your constricted throat dries up like a well and you can’t swallow. You can’t think, you can’t blink—your lungs can’t lift to inhale any air and they mirror Taehyung’s still ones, unbreathing. 

It is a surprise to you, the question that flows out of you. 

“Jimin, who is sitting at the bar?” 

A wrinkle forms between his brows as he sweeps his gaze over all those bar stools and doesn’t linger at the occupied space that you know is there. A perturbing energy thuds in his eyes once he returns them to yours, and that alarming potency in him rises once again. 

“Who do you see there?” he asks, carefully, leaving his mouth parted as he anticipates your answer. 

You peer back behind you and don’t find any bar stools occupied. Not single one. 

No Taehyung, smiling his boxy smile. 

No Taehyung behind Jimin. 

No Taehyung behind you. 

A sob rumbles out of you in unison with your realization that you were, indeed, very wrong. You catch your sob, covering your mouth with your fingers as your tears spurt down onto your cheeks. 

And then the memories arrive, the reality.

But Jimin ceases their flow with the warmth of his even more careful question. 

“Did you see him at the park, too?” 

You can only nod, but you can’t look at him. You stare at nothing in particular and it seems that what Jimin has ceased, he allows to stream through the pond of your thoughts, accompanied by his vocalized truth. 

“Taehyung isn’t here. He should’ve been here with us, but he had to go to North Korea. There was a conflict, remember? You know this.” 

Taehyung’s apologetic text message appears before your eyes. The letter that came first before his phone call, where he explained to you that he can’t have his vacation and visit you because he has to go and save his country. The real, known reason between the pair of you and Jimin behind this fun day. To honor Taehyung for what he’s doing. The day you wanted to share, as well, that you were pregnant. 

The aloneness has gotten to you, helped by your blessed state. Confused your mind to the point that you imagined him here when he’s not here at all. 

Jimin calls your name and you glance at him. Perhaps he can see the truth dawning on you by the way pity twists his features. He caresses your arm and leaves his hand there, his heat locking in the realization. 

“What has happened to you?” 

Another onrush of tears clouds your vision. Your spine bends. And you can’t. 

You can’t not tell him. You can’t keep it in. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and it merely takes him a second to envelop you in his embrace. He coos your name, rubs your back, a whimper resonates in his chest against yours as he holds back his tears. The music falls into nothingness—and nothing is said for a time that appears to be as long as the season of autumn. 

And then, somehow, you’re outside of the jazz club, sitting on Jimin’s Hussar jacket that he put down on the cold ground for you beside him. And the silence continues until it doesn’t. 

“Does he know?” he asks, and you feel his irises gliding across the side of your face that you cannot turn. 

It’s you who’s frozen this time. 

Still and unbreathing. 

With no smiling Taehyung at your hip. 

“I wanted to tell him tonight,” you say, quietly, with your hands helplessly in your lap. “On the day of his vacation that he looked forward to.” 

Jimin sighs, the sound full of that terrible pity. “How far along are you?” 

It’s a question that brings life to your numb hands and you take them to your belly. 

“Three months.” 

A beat of silence. 

You fondle your growing baby. Jimin seems to be watching you, considering his following words, but you fear to move your eyes. Lift them in expectation to see Taehyung only to meet the half-barren trees and the leaves on the ground that have absurdly regained their vivid colors. 

Lift them to look at Jimin and meet the outcome of your autumn-long aloneness. 

“He’ll be back in a month and I’ll talk to the Sergeant and offer my own vacation. I’ll give it up so you can see him and tell him.” 

A sob lodges itself in your throat and you tilt to the side, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder. He, in response, leans his against yours. 

“I don’t think your Sergeant will even hear you out,” you say, humorlessly, your personal pain still prickling the flesh of your heart. 

But then Taehyung’s words wash over you. 

Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone.

Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend, who’s been there for him through thick and thin, long before you came into the picture. Jimin, who stuck by your side when sightseeing, and took your pictures. Who devoured dinners with you and drank a whole bottle of liquor with you when Taehyung abstained. 

Jimin, your best friend, too. 

“Will you be here for me while he’s gone?” you ask, the sob in your throat enlarging, preventing you from speaking, but you push through. “So I won't get delusional again?” 

Jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it firmly in your lap, his thumb brushing over your little, half-swollen belly. 

“It’s the least I can do. Let’s get you home.” 

And he does. 

He calls a cab. Walks with you up the stairs, lingers at the door, watches you take off your heels—watches the comprehension of this day being anything but fun take form on your face and posture, and he hugs you. Reassures you that he will be here the whole week until his vacation is over, and even long after that. 

And you nod. Thank him. Turn your head away when he clicks the door shut behind him. Walk over to the window and stifle your tears when you see him head over to the liquor store in front of your apartment and leave with a bottle of spirits hanging from his fingertips. 

And the tears rush out, despite your efforts, when your gaze cascades down onto the windowsill and onto the vase, where white wine-doused tulips stooped in yearning for Taehyung’s touch a few hours ago. 

They aren’t stooping. They’re flaccid, dead and withered. Like the fun day you prepared.

Because Taehyung hasn’t bought any newly blooming tulips in a long while. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | read part two

[plottwiststudios]

I Guess I Should Update Ya'll...

The upcoming Kickstarter's demo is wrapping up. Which means in a week or two, we'll go into refining the Kickstarter page, then going full speed ahead on the campaign. (Despite the fact we're only 10% of the follower goal on the actual Kickstarter page. Near existential dread there, but!) If the team has any fortune left, the Kickstarter follower count won't at all be indicative of the success of the game's campaign. So instead of looking at something I can't control, I will focus on showing everyone the vibe and feel of the sequel, and what they should expect in terms of changes.

First thing's first! Matching the narrative tones between the in-game sprites and the CGs has been greatly improved since the original game. Yes, partly because I have improved my directing and we have WAY more time to work with than before. But also, ssam_reptile's utter dedication to getting that look down while insisting on honoring @nekojirou sprites cannot be denied. There will be some scenes in the demo (that we're obviously not going to show here) that will absolutely have moments of "...Oh this is clean." And we can't wait to see ya'll's reaction to the events that play out.

Speaking of play, the core gameplay (read a visual book) is the same. But we've updated the UI a bit. The original UI artist makes his return, and presents us with a far simpler look that will hopefully cut down on confusion. Some fun little highlights:

Speaking character's name moved to the center

Quick menu display has more recognizable naming and icons

New font and font color

Name of the song playing now appears! With a volume slider!

Some of the new, cool features to the UI to be added post-campaign

And the story? For now, let's just say that breaking this game up into two has given us ideas and opportunities that we would not have had if this sequel was included in the original Women of Xal like we originally intended. One of the most notable changes is in fact the tone. Taking place weeks after the events of The True Ending of Women of Xal I, Xjena is learning the hard way that you cannot be a Matriarch without making enemies. And enemies of the powerful tend to be quite formidable themselves.

For the 1% of you who are familiar with how my stories tend to progress, this will be familiar territory: The honeymoon period that was the first part, no matter how light or dark it started, can never truly return. From this point on, things take a more serious turn, and the writing's real teeth come through. The script will still make you smile, laugh, and have heartwarming moments, but the characters have moved on from castle shenanigans. They're locked in for the turbulent second half, and the writing/presentation will reflect that.

Women of Xal II Demo Features

40 Minute Demo

New outfits for most of the returning cast

New locations

New environment art

All new music

Two new key characters

Liz has freckles now (You can thank ssam_reptile)

Please hit that Notify Me At Launch button! I'm quite serious when I say that the Kickstarter website LOVES seeing traction from the first few hours of launch and will help us encourage them to boost us from within.

[allmondbuttergirl]

pick a pile - Advice from BTS: Hyung Line

༘⋆ Before you begin, take a moment to center yourself and reflect on your current journey. Trust that the universe has a plan for you, and the messages you receive today are here to help guide you towards your next steps. Pick an image whose energy you're drawn to the most. ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ──────

✧ Pile One — Jin

This is so Jin-coded. Like that older brother energy who says something hilarious one minute and then hits you with the most grounding, protective life advice the next — with a side of “don’t be dumb, you deserve better.”

🧿 What the Cards Say: Two of Wands · Ace of Pentacles · Queen of Swords

He is asking you to stop waiting for permission. You’re standing at a threshold, holding a dream in one hand and hesitation in the other. He says, "“Choose yourself. Begin something that will last.” You’re being guided to plant a new seed — a project, belief, or way of living — rooted in clarity and purpose. But do it from a place of wisdom, not emotional reactivity. There’s something regal in how Jin’s energy shows up here — calm, clever, discerning. Vision is nothing without grounding. And you don’t need everyone to agree with your path — only to walk it with your whole heart.

✨ Jin's Advice: “You have more potential than you’re letting yourself believe. Take the leap — you’re ready. Build something real. Stay smart, stay grounded, and don’t forget to protect your energy along the way.”

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

✧ Pile Two — J-Hope

…this is SO Hobi, but like his deeper, more introspective self — the side people sometimes overlook beneath the sunshine.

🧿 What the Cards Say: Four of Swords · The Hermit · The Magician

J-Hope shows up not as the eternal sunshine — but as your guide into sacred stillness. He asks, “Have you paused long enough to hear your own voice again?” There’s healing here — the kind that happens when you step away from noise, from hustle, from the need to be “on.” In the quiet, you rediscover your tools. Your soul is the magician — resting, reflecting, then rising. The lesson: Silence isn’t absence — it’s preparation. You don’t have to force the next chapter. Rest, and your power will return to you tenfold.

✨ J-Hope's Advice: "Take the break. It’s okay to go quiet. That silence is sacred — it's where you'll remember who you are. And when you're ready, use all that you've learned to create something only you can. You're more powerful than you think."

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

✧ Pile Three — SUGA

🧿 What the Cards Say: Eight of Wands · Queen of Cups · The Magician

It’s classic Yoongi. He’d never force you to rush healing, but he would encourage you to stop over-perfecting and just let your soul speak.

Yoongi’s energy rushes in like lightning through water. He whispers, "Move.Create.Feel Everything." Something is ready to come out of you — a truth, a creation, an emotional release. But you’ve been doubting your timing. SUGA says the timing is now. Your emotions don’t make you fragile — they make your art real. He says, "Use it." Your softness is not your weakness. Let your emotions lead you to something bold, fast, and true. The storm inside you is the spell.

✨ Suga's Advice: "Move fast when the spark hits. Don’t waste time doubting. Let your emotions be your fuel — not your chains. You’re not missing anything. You already have it all. Make something with it."

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

✧ Pile Four — RM

This is the Namjoon spread — like a handwritten poem he’d leave pressed between pages of a book.

🧿 What the Cards Say: Seven of Pentacles · The Tower · Six of Wands

Namjoon meets you at the intersection of patience and collapse. He says, "Don’t fear what’s falling apart — it’s clearing the way for who you’re becoming.” You’ve waited. You’ve tended your garden. But sometimes the walls still fall. The Tower here is sacred disruption — and he’s reminding you: this is not failure, it’s freedom. And when you rise — you’ll rise seen. You’re not behind. You’re transforming. Be brave enough to stand in the fire — because what comes after will be your liberation, your recognition, and your quiet triumph.

✨ Namjoon's Advice: "Be patient with your becoming. Don’t fear the fall — it’s carving the space for your truth. You will rise, and when you do, you’ll shine not because you were unshaken, but because you kept choosing to rebuild."

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

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-The Pack

Series Master list | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters are based after. The actions, views, personalities and characteristics of these characters do not in any way shape or form reflect the real Stray Kids. This story is all for fun so please keep it that way.

Background: This story takes place in an alternate universe where everyone presents as 1 of 3 sub-genders, Alpha, Beta, Omega. Omegas became a rarity after a disease almost wiped them out and the world has been slowly trying to repopulate them ever since. Omegas are normally sold to packs as possessions and are for the whole pack to use. Most packs only have one omega if any unless a pup is presented as one which they are groomed to be the perfect submissive omega for a pack to buy. But some rare omegas don't go through that, this is that story.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

Christopher Bang Chan- Alpha (Pack Alpha / Pack Leader) 27

Chan helps run his fathers business in the Korean Office with his fathers business partners son after deciding to move there from Australia. The 2 created their small pack named SKZ located a bit outside of Seoul and helps take care of a small town. Chan's a pack and family man, having become more understanding and protective of omega's after his younger brother presented as one and takes care of everyone even if it means neglecting his own needs.

Lee Minho- Alpha 26

Minho is hard to read. He can come off as cold and distant to outsiders but in the pack he's actually the caretaker type. He's the main cook for the pack and just seems to know how all of his pack mates are feeling and what they need. Before meeting the pack he was a backup dancer for a K-pop group called BTS and have since become a dance teacher at a big prestige dance studio in Seoul.

Seo Changbin- Alpha (Head alpha / 2nd in command) 25

Changbins father ran an office in Seoul with his business partner in Australia (Chan's dad). Changbins father stepped down and decided to let Changbin and Chan run the Korean office. Together with Chan they slowly formed their pack, becoming protective of his packmates. He's Chan's second in command and will do anything to protect his pack. Even though he's seen as the muscle and tough guy of the pack, he's actually one of the sweetest and the pack all collectively agree that he gives the best hugs and comfort.

Hwang Hyunjin- Beta (Head Beta) 24

Hyunjin is a hopeless romantic but has shielded his heart because of it having been hurt too many times. Because of this he's possessive of his fated mates and doesn't take too kindly to new people. He was even cautious with each of his pack mates having to take time to accept all of them. And it took him even longer when their pack was betrayed by one of their own. Because of this he's a great head beta and often time used as one of the mediators. He can be found teaching art classes in the towns community center once a week.

Han Jisung- Beta 24

Jisungs one of the most helpful and supportive of everyone, even if he doesn't even believe in himself. Even as a beta he still has some omega tendencies. He stives to please the people he loves. At first he can be shy and introverted but around is pack he's always talking and joking. He has some insecurities the pack helps with as well as mental health but he tries to not let that stop him, especially when his true mates remind him how amazing he is.

Lee Felix- Beta 24

Felix is the most omega like beta you will ever meet. His family was honestly surprised when he presented as a beta instead. They joke that his and and his sister (who did present as an omega even though she's more beta like) had somehow mixed up their sub-genders. The pack was always okay with not having a true omega as they felt they already had one with him around. No one can ever say no to him as he's just a ray of sunshine that brightens the packs lives. He will nest for not only himself but also for his pack and can be found in the kitchen along side Minho.

Kim Seungmin- Beta 24

Seungmin pays attention better than anyone in the pack. He's observant of everyone around to make sure his pack isn't in any type of danger. All though one of the youngest he knows how to assert his dominance when needed. Along with Hyunjin he's a great mediator for the pack. He has a passion for baseball and is the coach for the local towns little league team.

Yang Jeongin- Alpha 23

Jeongins the youngest member of the pack and a late presenter. It took time and a lot of help from his alpha hyungs to control his tendencies and he looks up to all of them because of it striving to be as great as they are. It also helped that one of his brothers presented as an omega allowing him to understand what it's like to protect one. Although he's the least experienced in the pack he's devoted.

Y/n- Omega 23

Information given as the story goes

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[sepublic]

Likewise, if I had to describe Lilith’s fatal flaw, aside from the insecurity and jealousy? Probably Naïveté; Her childish willingness to believe in things that obviously aren’t true nor going to work out. Such as believing that this shady curse she bought will actually work as it says, lasting only a day; Believing in the propaganda of the coven system, that it’s good and better for everyone. Believing it will give her what she wants, insisting it CAN “poof her problems away” while Luz points out otherwise.

Eda will eventually come around and all of her pestering will actually work out. The childish glee Lilith leaps to when she believes Eda willingly got herself caught, her nostalgia for a childhood that they can’t quite ever get back to. Eda doesn’t need to know Lilith cursed her for them to be happy together again. Eda definitely means it when she says she’s going to turn herself in. The Emperor will totally cure Eda’s curse. There’s a way to handle this problem without having to take her half of it.

And after being let down time and time again, eventually Lilith has to confront the truth; She can’t get by on childish delusions anymore. Like her parallel Luz whom she comes into conflict with over their shared desire to protect Eda in their own ways, who realize they’re not so different in how far they were willing to go to be a hero, even not listening to Eda herself… Perhaps that’s why Luz is willing to listen… Lilith realizes this is the point of no return, either she grows up and faces reality, or she allows her naïveté to kill the persons she cares for most.

Like is it any wonder then that when S1 ended, when Lilith finally began to understand that she needed to grow up and mature after being emotionally stunted for decades, we had this piece of reconciliatory art from Dana herself?

That’s really what Lilith was; An emotionally stunted child in a woman’s body who had yet to grow up, and catch up to her little sister, who was always the ‘older’ one; Not just in terms of attitude, but as symbolically reflected in the curse making her look older. It was a curse inflicted by Lilith, it was Lilith’s own immaturity that just made her younger sister look more wizened and experienced by contrast. And when Lilith finally takes responsibility, they both end up looking older together; Thus heralds S2 as we see the ways in which Lilith can be good in her own ways. And eventually, the sisters catch up with one other, as they both have things to be proud of.

[mystxmomo]

hi hiii

so. what if. iiii. enabled u to be autistic on the internet again :3c

i wanna hear your thoughts on eilistraee and vhaerauns relationship! the nitty gritty, the dynamics, how they think of each other vs how they act, and how thats changed over time+how its reflected in their church

im ADORING all your posts on it if i could id print them out and eat them 🫶

Okay. So this is officially the third part of my "I need to go crazy on some character analysis" Saga. My analysis on Vhaeraun is Here, and my analysis on Eilistraee is Here. I recommend, if you're stumbling across this post in the wild as tumblr tends to do, reading those two first so that you have an idea of how I see these two characters and where the basis of my argument for their characterization comes from. If I need to reference something from either post, I'll quote it here. But y'know. Need be said.

Okay so.

I believe this post is going to the most subjective of mine. I am going to try and pull up canon screenshots from War of the Spider Queen, The Lady Penitent, and Evermeet, but unlike how you kind of get told directly how the drow gods behave and hold themselves and a lot of things end up getting built on them, I would argue so many hands have touched DnD and so many interpretations of their relationship have sprung up over the books that it's hard to give a truly simplified "This is how they see one another."

Water is wet statement, relationships are complicated.

Anyway. Given what my thesis is, I am going to be talking a fair bit about abusive family dynamics in this one as well. My goal for this (and any character relationship I do, really) if to try and keep it very fair. I think a of people make the mistake when talking about Eilistraee and Vhaeraun's relationship of picking a side. Like this idea of one of them being right and one of them being wrong and needing to "Fix" the other. And I don't think that's true at all. I think to be able to understand why they feel the way they do about one another and why their relationship is the way it is, you need to respect both of their characters individually.

(Granted, I think this should be true of any relationship you're writing for in fiction. If I can preach for a second, I think even if you don't like a character, you have to be able to respect the character to properly portray them.)

Final note before I get into this. Everyone thank @abracadav-r again for being on screenshot duty. The posts wouldn't get done nearly as fast without them, they know exactly where to find these little moments.

So. That all said. Lets get into it.

I've made a smaller joke post about what I think their dynamic is like before here. But now that you're giving me the opportunity to do so, I will go indepth about it. Yes.

I'm kinda of the opinion that Eilistraee is more incorrect about Vhaeraun than Vhaeraun is incorrect about Eilistraee (But also that this is the result of DND Canon not being entirely fair to Vhaeraun.)

Let's get the discussion about my thesis about the Elven Pantheon being an analogy for an Abusive family on a divine scale out of the way first, because it's something I've mentioned a few time's, but only every really shorthanded. And I think here, in the discussion about relations, is a GREAT place to start and actually explore that.

Now. I should probably start by saying, I don't think this was intended by DnD. Like, I think when they were originally making this lore, it was the intention to just make a justifiable evil worth killing. DND came out of a time of the romantic fantasy, the very Tolkien and Fairytale esc ideas of good and evil and have this classic hero's journey power fantasy ideal to it. Other people have gone into depth about that origin with far better sourcing and dissection than I can ever hope to, but basically: DnD is absolutely (as all art is) a product of it's time and of the community it stemmed from.

However, I personally think those themes and ideas are a little outdated, and a modern audience (myself being the modern audience) tends to be more enthralled by very nuanced interpretations of good and evil, and find indepth character driven narratives more engaging. And I think that for what this mythos has become over the course of it's 60+ years of evolution, you can reinterpret the narrative to be a fascinating depiction of a mythos that echo's the abusive family structure.

Copying and Pasting from my Eilistraee Essay:

It is of my opinion that, when you look at the Eilistrae-Vhaeraun Dynamic and how they were treated by Lolth and Corellon, you're looking at a classic Golden Child/Scrape Goat dynamic. This is important to mention here because I do think that's important context within how Eilistraee (the person) see's and understands the world, and where her mind is at when it comes to the perception of her sense of self. To VASTLY oversimplify about how emotionally abusive family structures work by a lot, when you look at emotionally abusive families with siblings, you tend to find a pattern where one child ends up getting the bulk of the favoritism and affection (The golden child), while the other takes the bulk of the abuse and tends to take a of blame and is seen as being deserving of the abuse (The scrapegoat.) I'll get a little bit more into the specifics of what that means for their relationship in a later post.[*] Now. Calling her the Golden Child, but I don't think being the Golden Child is strictly a good thing. In a lot of ways, I think a lot of golden children end up very emotionally stilted, and I think you kind of see that in Eilistraee. She HAS to be the perfect one. And she's had this expectation to be The Good One placed on her shoulders since she was young. Golden Children are often blinded to the abuse their siblings face because they themselves are not subjected to the same kind of abuse.

[*] And well. It's that later post!

In emotionally abusive families, siblings tend to be pitted against eachother, either unintentionally as a result of the Golden Child being the subject of a parents time, attention, resources, and affection, or as a purposeful attempt on the part of a parent to put divides in a family. In the real life world, it is more often the first. I think a lot of people think Abusers are more like Lolth where there's an intentional "I looked at you and from the day you were born decided to make your life hell."

But I would argue the tricky thing about abusive family structures (Especially with parent-child situations), is that more often then not, the abusers love the idea of the person they're abusing. To them, what they're doing is love. It is very rare that an abuser is this knowing evil schemer that actively sits and thinks to themself that "That's my least favorite child, they don't deserve my attention."

(Though, as a small side tangent not immediately related to the fictional character, you might see this logic manifest more in the way finances are weaponized in abuse, especially see in America where college is more expensive and therefore often used as a control tactic. IE; My wonderful son wants to go into STEM, why would I waste money by giving it to my son who wants to do art college. Because people get comically evil about money.)

Instead, emotional abuse is often more insidious. It's... I'm going to put the blame on everything that goes wrong on my son (Who I left in the hands of his physically abusive mother to have his arm constantly bent behind his back by her) I can't bring myself to believe that my daughter would ever want to scheme against me. YOU could have been good once, but you're evil because you're not happy, you're too moody, you're too violent. I'm not even going to give you the chance or the environment to grow, because it's just in your nature to be evil, and because you are evil because you were born evil that all that goes wrong is your fault.

You know. That kind of logic.

So. Eilistraee was Corellon's Golden Child. She was the free spirited happy one. She was the one that loved to hunt and dance. She was the good one.

(But often, when a scrape goat leaves the family, the golden child becomes the new target.

Y'know. Like..

Corellon gave up on the idea of trying to turn his son Vhaeraun to abandon his ways. He vowed to kill Vhaeraun if he ever tried to hurt his sister. Nevertheless, the Masked Lord did threaten the Dark Maiden's life, without known action against him on Corellon's part.

Corellon's servant Solars claimed that, with this act, Eilistraee had exhausted her purpose, because the willing had been saved, and the unwilling cast down as a necessary sacrifice.

The in-story context for this being honestly worse and kind of containing bad racial implications:

“Her soul was destroyed,” Felarathael said solemnly. “But before she died, she saved many. She cleansed the taint from hundreds of drow who might otherwise have been condemned.” “But the rest!” Lashrael wailed. “Thousands! Hundreds of thousands! No hope of redemption for them, with Eilistraee gone. Condemned to darkness and despair, forevermore!” “Another necessary sacrifice,” Felarathael said without a trace of emotion. “Else the game would have been lost.”

This, to me, is the framework of Vhaeraun and Eilistraee's relationship.

Likewise, the Masked Lord nurtures an abiding hatred of Eilistraee. The Dark Maiden always held Corellon's favor more than her hateful brother, and she thwarted Vhaeraun's early efforts to bring all the Ilythiiri (southern, dark-skinned elves) under his sway, enabling Lolth and Ghaunadaur to make great inroads among those who would become the drow.

I'm under the impression that Eilistraee doesn't know Vhaeraun. She has this idea of who he is in her head seemingly both based on the what their father thought of him, and as a result of being an outsider looking at the things he did at the hand of his mother. (And again, let's be clear and establish in this post. That wasn't WHOLLY Lolth. Vhaeraun did play his part. But I don't think Eilistraee see's that, I think she strictly see's an eager climb for power) And then she makes a lot of assumptions about his motivations based on the idea of him she's made in her head that reaffirm that idea.

On the other hand, I think Vhaeraun understands exactly the kind of person his sister is, because it's really not that hard to understand who Eilistraee is. She really does just mean well. While I consider her to be a lot more guarded and lonely then people tend to give her credit for, I don't think she's being insincere with her wants and wishes and you don't have to doubt what her intentions are. Instead, the ways that I think Vhaeraun is often wrong about how well she can handle herself and how strong her allies are by 4e, and what that could mean for drow as a whole. Because he's so willing to discredit her as a threat, he doesn't pay attention to her, and because he doesn't pay attention to her I don't think he realized she'd gotten friendly to people like... Mysta the goddess of magic.

And being realistic, even if he had known, I don't think he understands the weight of her being friendly TO people like Mystra because he himself only ever makes allies, not friends amongst gods.

Now. The reason I capped that whole screenshot above is actually because it contains a very interesting bit of framework that I think proves this. Even back in the 2e source books, the phrasing of these things matters. If it was a matter of Vhaeraun thinking that something was the case, they would have mentioned it. However, the specific way that it's set up in that passage is: "It's not that Vhaeraun thinks Eilistraee's involvement in circumventing his climb to power allowed Lolth and Ghaunadaur to gain power. Her involvement DID allow Lolth and Ghaunadaur to gain power."

And I don't think she's aware of that. But Vhaeraun is.

To further this, we're to copy/paste a passage from Sacrifice of the Widow. Now. This is from the perspective of a Vhaeraun worshiper, and it holds as much bias as Eilistraee's priestesses have towards him. But. Because it correlates with metatextual information we have from all the way back in 1998, I'm inclined to say it's not a full dishonesty, just a biased truth.

The dance might have been beautiful, had it not been a violation of the sacred order. Had Eilistraee not interfered, Vhaeraun might have united all of the darkelves under a single deity millennia ago, but Eilistraee had proved as greedy as Lolth and had stolen the females away from the Masked Lord’s worship. She’d taught them to exclude males from her circle, to subjugate and revile them instead. Vhaeraun’s followers had learned a bitter lesson. Females could not be trusted.

Compare this to how Eilistraee speaks of Vhaeraun's influence in Evermeet: Island of the Elves.

Like... Eilistaee. There are bigger threats out there than your brother But. She's so blinded by her history with him that she can only ever see her brothers influence is a bloodstain on the land.

As I mentioned in my other post, I think Eilistraee is a biased narrator in this scene. I don't think Vhaeraun wants his sister to die for the crime of existing. I think his feelings on his sister are way more complicated than his feelings on either of his parents. And we know when Vhaeraun explicitly wants someone dead, because the text would have told us that.

...

So, to understand Vhaeraun and Eilistraee's relationship, I do think we need to talk about The Masked Lady.

Given how much of DnD is oral tradition and people building on concepts that the games give to us, I think people feel more comfortable engaging with some of these things through the wiki and building off of the idea of the ideas they get from the wiki without searching out the original source. And to be clear, this isn't like, judgement for doing that. Nevermind that the IP is older than I am twice over, that a lot of old blog posts are only acceptable through niche internet archive links, and that a lot the source books are neither applicable to 5e or still within print. I'M personally guilty of doing it all of the time.

Instead, the point I'm making is because of how the realms is set up and how people engage with DND, not a lot of people know when plot point comes from a source book, a blog post, a prose book, an official magazine, when something was fan-submitted and made canon, or Ed Greens personal twitter/discord. They all kind of merge together to create a collective canon. I think, as a result, a lot of people end up engaging with these concepts with the same amount of abstraction. But the thing about The Masked Lady is that they're like. A book character. This isn't just a concept that was placed out into world abstractly, they're a fully fleshed out character within The Lady Penitent.

This is important to us and our purposes of engaging with these characters on a more transformative level rather than at a dnd table. Being a character, we can look at how they behave and what the actual intent of their portrayal was. And I want to show you a few things, because I have an argument I would like to make given that portrayal.

==

A voice called to them: a voice that was neither male nor female, but both. A moment later, it became a pool of utter silence. Then song, then silence. Opposites, twined together, yet somehow harmonious. Side by side, the awarenesses that were Kâras and Valdar drifted to the place where the song-silence was coming from. It caught them like leaves and swirled them up toward itself. They drifted in front of an enormous face. Moonlight bathed the face’s upper half in shining radiance; the lower half was shadowed in utter blackness. A glint of blue danced across eyes the color of moonstones. Masked Lord, Kâras asked. Is it you? A feminine laugh rustled the mask. Masked … Lady? he ventured. The chuckle deepened, became male. Hands moved to the blackness that was the deity’s mask. Fingers gripped its edges. Kâras tensed, and felt the eager anticipation of the awareness that was Valdar. The mask lifted. Kâras wept. So did Valdar—and as he did, Kâras saw into the other Nightshadow’s heart. The emotions that had prompted their tears were as different as moonlight from shadow.

==

“Masked Lord,” Kâras prayed. “Is it your will the breach be opened? Have you—” He hesitated, then forced himself to say it. “Have you allied yourself with the Ancient One?” This time, the god answered. Not in words, but in the distant peal of a hunting horn. That alone wouldn’t have convinced Kâras; it might have been one of the priestesses, signaling the others. But as the horn sounded, a rectangle of darkness with two eyeholes appeared in the air a short distance away, within the tunnel leading to the ruined temple. The bottom of this “mask” fluttered, as if the mouth behind it were lending its breath to the hunting horn’s peal. Dots of angry red blazed where the eyes would have been. That decided it. Kâras wouldn’t run. He’d fight.

==

===

My argument about The Masked Lady is this: Despite taking a lot of Eilistraee's visage and Churches Iconograpy, When you look at how The Masked Lady behaves in practice I would argue that this isn't actually strictly Eilistraee. The Masked Lady feels like a new character that is both Vhaeraun and Eilistraee..... but also Neither Vhaeraun and Eilistraee. In that strictly esoteric kind of way, by merging their aspects together they've created a new god made of their parts.

And on one hand, you can read some of this as Eilistraee Masquerading as her brother to try and get his church to work with hers, but on an authorial level? I don't know if that was the intent. For one, I don't actually think Eilistraee is good at being manipulative, she's too well intentioned. She'd have fallen apart under the weight of that lie.

Granted, I do think with both of them being in there Eilistraee is more "in control." Vhaeraun is absolutely ""Dead"" in at least some ways. The piece he puts down representing himself is destroyed in the Sava game, Eilistraee ends up with his mask, and Lolth is able to show off his corpse in the astral plane.

But even all of that aside, I'm tapping in both Ed Greenwood's thoughts for this and something from Faiths & Avatars.

(I'm going to copy this summary from the FR wiki page on dead powers because, as always, it's quite good at summarization. But as always, I've double checked Faiths & Avatars to be sure)

Sometimes, the memory and personality of a deity was separated from their power and true form at the moment of their death, typically by the interaction of the magical turbulence of their death with the magic of a powerful relic or artifact into the same area. In such cases, the deity remained awake but imprisoned, in a sense, though vastly uncomfortable with their much-reduced state.

As such, I think during The Masked Lady era, three things were true simultaneously.

There was a part of Vhaeraun that was dead. That's the part of him on the astral plane. And even that part of him seemed to hold mild consciousness. But I also think a part of him was trapped by Mystra in a dream, and another part of him existed simultaneously within his sister creating a new entity as The Masked Lady, in the same way that Eilistraee seemed to both exist as herself AND The Masked Lady separate from herself as she's playing the Sava game. Because these are gods. Their existence does not exist in singularity.

But. Why does this matter to Vhaeraun and Eilistraee's relationship. Why do I think this is an important talking point for them.

Because I think the fact that they exist together implies a level of respect and understanding towards one another. This is not how this would have happened if they truly hated one another. What happened with Vhaeraun and Eilistraee seems closer to what happened with Zandilar the Dancer and Bast (Absorbed and became Sharess) or (Sehanine Moonbow, Aerdrie Faenya, and Hanali Celanil) > (Came together to become Angharradh and notedly, can separate to spent time apart as times have changed.)

This feels like. Notedly different, compared to what happened with (for example) Ulutiu and Auril, where he got entirely subsumed by her.

For a moment, they were one god. And they could have only synergized as one if they understood eachothers intentions well enough to agree to be one.

==

It's worth noting before I get into this section. Both the idea that Vhaeraun didn't actually die and was put in ⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹❇Mystra's Dream Prison <3 ❇⊹⋆ ˚｡⋆ and that upon returning to life he started working with Eilistraee are not actually ""canon"" to 5e. They are, like many things, Ed Green-ism's that a lot of people (myself included, because I do actually think he's an incredibly creative person with good character building ideas) take as canon. Despite taking it as canon, I think it's worth mentioning that there is no official source material to pull from for these ideas, because unlike the masked lady, these two ideas exist as concepts to be built off of rather than media to be examined.

We can only logic and reason what happened between them and how it's changed their relationship using everything else we have.

Posted from the FR wiki:

"The Grand History of the Realms explicitly says that Vhaeraun's assassination attempt failed and Eilistraee killed him. However, Ed Greenwood suggests that Eilistraee didn't actually kill her brother. The Dark Maiden defeated Vhaeraun with the indirect help of her ally Mystra, as the Weave frustrated the Masked Lord's magic while enhancing Eilistraee's. The goddess temporarily took her brother's portfolio, and trapped his sentience in the Weave, where it was enfolded in a dream by Mystra. The Lady of Mysteries did this to ensure that the two drow siblings would survive the cataclysm that she knew was coming—the Spellplague—in which she would be "killed" to renew the Weave and magic would go wild. After Mystra and the Weave were completely restored in 1487 DR, the goddess of magic could finally give Eilistraee her own lost power and do the same with Vhaeraun, after having awakened him from his dream."

It was one of Ed Greenwood's ideas to have the two deities reach a reciprocal understanding, and to make the personal enmity between them was no more. More to read here

So here's my take on this situation.

I think a lot of people like to paint the "Mystra and Eilistraee put Vhaeraun in Dream Prison" Situation in a very limited light. In the same way Eilistraee tends to get romanticized as a wholly good and Vhaeraun demonized as a firm evil, it tends to get boiled down to the idea that Mystra and Eilistraee managed to convince him to be "Less Evil."

But, I don't know. To accept the Mystra/Eilistraee tag team as something wholly good, you have to also accept the sentiment of Vhaeraun as someone who is evil and needed "fixed," and I don't think that's ever been the case. As I think my multitude of arguments have implied, I have never been under the impression he's an actual evil.

As such, it's always felt little bitter-sweet to me. I think it's more impactful if they just managed to rub off on eachother due to their time spent together as one. I think it was especially a turning point for Eilistraee, given how many changes came to the structure of her church as a result of that merger. She understands why he uses the tactics he does, she understands that what he's doing is coming from a place of (what I would argue) is sincere love for the drow as a whole, and I think she got a little bit more of a nuanced understanding of the uhh Sexism. I also like to think she understood his experiences more, and that his love doesn't come through the same lens as hers.

Likewise, I think Vhaeraun came out of that understanding that he was stretching himself thin. I think that he learned that he NEEDS to be able to rely on others, he NEEDS to start trusting the outside world more. While he's more accepting of drow as they are now, I think his goal has always been to put them back in power to the extent that they were when he had worship from the Ilythiiri. But, thats not the world they live in anymore. Even if he did pull all the drow from the underdark, they could not and would not manage to be that. I think he comes out of The Masked Lady era understanding that to get the drow away from his mother and to coexist is stability in itself. They don't need to rule to be powerful, they just need to coexist.

You know. It's choosing to forgive. We can't change what we were, but we can start this relationship over and grow something new from it. And sometimes, that might be enough.

....

And ALSO I think they had to start getting along, because it really didn't take their churches THAT long to start meshing together when they fused as the masked lady.

At the word “died,” the priestess glanced down at the male. The cleric didn’t look good; his eyes had fully rolled back in his head and his skin was turning gray. Halisstra reached out and lifted the priestess’s chin, forcing her to look away. “It’s only a weak venom,” she lied. “You have plenty of time to heal him. Plenty of time, still.” “Yes,” the priestess repeated softly. “Plenty of time.” Her eyes reminded Halisstra of another priestess who’d succumbed to Halisstra’s bae’qeshel magic, years ago. Seyll had stared just as trustingly into Halisstra’s eyes a heartbeat before Halisstra plunged a sword into her. And yet Seyll had told Halisstra, as she lay dying, that no one was beyond redemption—not even Halisstra. She’d been wrong. This priestess had a wide mouth and creases at the sides of her eyes that could only have come from frequent laughter. The frown of confusion looked out of place on her forehead. The slight bulge of her stomach hinted she might be carrying a child. Halisstra hated her.

Come on guys, The Masked Lady hadn't even existed for half a decade and there was already pregnancies. We don't know what their churches are like 100+ years out. But, for as much as Ed emphasizes the infighting of the churches (And I have no doubt in my heart there ARE factions who refuse to mesh, that's canon to the text) we are inevitably met with 1-2 generations where the combined churches are all that they knew. Vhaeraun and Eilistraee had to work together, because I think as much as they're their own people with thoughts and opinions and experiences, they are also a reflection of their worshipers.

==

I think, to summarize what I think Vhaeraun and Eilistraee's relationship is like in a few paragraphs

With the way their relationships are described, I think Eilistraee was the golden child and Vhaeraun was the scrapegoat in the earlier parts of their childhood. They become reflections of the parent that favors them, because those were the parents that acted as their main influence. Eilistraee saw Vhaeraun as a reflection of her mothers evil, and Vhaeraun saw Eilistraee as undeserving of the favoritism their father gave her.

This view of eachother was cemented when she followed him to Toril. She saw him and his power as an evil and bloodstain, unhelped when he exiled her (probably out of spite and due to the grudge he had as a result of the earlier years). As such, she worked to undermine the influence he had. And when that allowed their mother and Ghaunadaur to take hold, it was the same kind of evil to her.

Her enabling them to take that power worsened the grudge Vhaeraun had of her, because he knows he isn't the same kind of evil as Lolth or Ghaunadaur, and them having that power worsened things for everyone.

This grudge between them kept itself in the legacy of their churches, all the way until The Masked Lady Era. The Masked Lady era was one where they actually managed to come together for a similar goal. It was the first time they were truly about to understand eachothers motivations, experiences, and perspectives, and the first time that divide between them and their communities truly lessened.

And when they finally came out...? I mean. That's going to change anyone. I think not only their relationship changed, but they sort of managed to change eachother a little.

I don't know. I think their relationship is complicated and messy and such a product of their parents influence on them. There is no forgiving Lolth, and there really shouldn't be forgiving Corellon (though, dnd might disagree with me on that.) But I think theirs one that could eventually heal. Out of all of the relationships in the Dark Seladrine, theirs feels the closest to being one that can be refounded on equal ground and with respect towards one another, especially as drow return to the surface and find more acceptance (even outside of their communities.) Because they are to me, two sides of the same coin.

[johntayjinf]

very serene theme that's been stuck in my mind ever since i first heard it

yk, one thing i've slowly come to internalize is that, once you share your art with the world, it's no longer just yours; it's for everyone.

sounds a bit stupid because realistically speaking i still am responsible for arranging and/or writing the songs that i release... but i think people should be free to interpret art however they like, bad or not. you can obviously tell whether or not people interpret a piece of art in bad faith, but i don't think that stops the fact that people are allowed to think what they do.

there have been times where i've tried to change people's minds on why i make specific stylistic choices, but i really should acknowledge that people will interpret it based on their own knowledge and experiences. i feel like i should bring this up because sometimes people don't necessarily see the true intent i want to convey or deliver in a song or my other artistic works, and that's probably for the best. maybe there simply isn't a definitive answer as to what something would truly mean, especially for something so abstract.

people should be allowed to create their own meaning out of the feelings they get from something, though obviously it would be much more appreciated if subjects were handled with more nuance and maturity. people can find their own happiness in their own ways. it's a hard concept to fully grasp, but when you actually slow down and look around... you'll realize that, that minor form of self-expression is a very beautiful thing.

i wrote all that down because this song really just, reminded me about how a song as beautifully written as this one exists in our reality. i personally have never fully played through any pokemon game, so playing gold/ silver/ crystal is out of the question. gameplay just never clicked with me, sorry.

but the thing about this song... or , well, the heartgold/ soulsilver arrange of this song just reminded me of a lot of the beauty in life, despite my suffering.

it's hard for me to have a long-distance relationship, but i am just about as happy as my boyfriend is for us forming a meaningful bond together. his opinions may come off as wacky and kooky and he may be a bit absent-minded; but deep down, i know he really cares a lot about the things he talks about. i've told him many times how unbearable it was watching him squabble with other people about their own opinions, but i still love him regardless. there are times when we respectfully disagree on things so it isn't so grim as i've written it out to be.

i just wished that people would take video games as an art form much more seriously, and when i came to talk to him about it, he agrees with me but simply says he can't do a lot to help the situation; i very much understand that. sometimes we all just have different opinions on things and while that may warrant unwanted conflicts, that's entirely fine.

i like to imagine national park as like, a place that people regularly go to in this universe (no i do not know what part of the pokemon world this is). i like to believe that we'd see different kinds of people here, thus the arrangement reflecting that fact added up with the commentary. you'd never know what you'd learn from other people. the more i appreciate people's perspectives, maybe the more happier i am. like with my boyfriend.

[emmett6]

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[updatingranboo]

tips and tricks for ranboo fans to make chat (and the community) a better place!

hello! since the rebrand is coming up i decided i wanted to make a list of certain things ranboo fans should be discouraged from saying/doing, to keep chat/the community fun and keep from pushing ranboo back into the box of a streamer they no longer are. i personally don’t believe in cringe culture, i think everyone should be able to have fun, but at this point certain jokes and comments restrict ranboo from growing as a person and do reflect on the community. this got a lot longer than i was expecting, apologies! lets begin.

gender jokes (“genderman”, you stole my gender etc)

a super obvious one. getting gender envy from ranboo is normal and super awesome! nothing wrong with that. but the jokes have been overused. the genderman one specifically has ties to minecraft which, while ranboo doesn’t care about being associated with minecraft, it’s still a tie to their past content they would prefer to leave behind. this is the same level as calling them an “mcyt”, while there’s no harm in it and ranboo really doesn’t care, it’s also just.. not really true anymore and hasn’t been for years. let them grow!

2. *blank*boo/general spam

*blank*boo is nothing but spammy. all it does is fill up chats and replies and brings no substance to anything. spamming “tiredboo” when they yawn, “madboo” when they yell etc. is not contributing anything meaningful to a chat. it’s annoying and drowns out actually fun and interesting comments. as for general spam, you can use a few emotes here and there! but when all you do is spam emotes it again just floods the chat. when ranboo tells chat to stop spamming, you stop. don’t take it as a challenge, you will just get banned. yes there is delay, but you can see what other people in chat are saying too. spamming lag, telling them they missed a dono, anything where you find yourself repeating what other people are saying to either get their attention or just because (except for using bttv emotes) just don’t. i know most people are used to speaking in a fast chat, but the truth is chat doesn’t have to be fast! if you don’t have anything to say, you can just stay quiet. even spamming the PETTHEMODS emote defeats the purpose !!

3. telling off chat

slightly related, you don’t have to tell off chat either. going “chat stop” “oh my god chat” just adds to the spam. change the subject! ignore the spam and let the mods take care of it. focus on reacting to the stream and being silly, not being backseat mods.

4. the swearing obsession

ranboo is almost 20. they make so many innuendos every stream. they are heavily considering adding a mature warning to most streams from here on out, and as we have seen they no longer are the “family friendly” kid who they used to be. he can say shit and fuck and people can be normal about it. you don’t have to say LANGUAGE or go THEY SWORE ?????? he’s an adult and can swear. all of his friends swear and a huge portion of us in the community do too. it is not a big deal

5. telling ranboo what to do

back seating in video games, as well as in other situations when it’s NOT ASKED FOR is not fun. let ranboo do what they want. this applies to just general things too- you don’t need to tell ranboo to go to sleep. they can make that decision themself. again, he’s almost 20.

6. assuming ranboo is uncomfortable with something

it’s always good to be careful about respecting boundaries! but don’t confuse your own boundaries for theirs. ranboo has said many times that if something bothers him, he’ll talk about it! it’s safe to say they are more uncomfortable with you harassing an artist for drawing something you personally don’t like, over the actual art itself.

7. the chat hopping/mentioning ranboo unnecessarily

we all love ranboo. that is very obvious. their friends love them too! but when you go into one of ranboos friends chats or comment sections and start either asking about ranboo, telling his friends to play with them, or making unnecessary references to their content, it makes their friends want to do things with them less! streamers are their own people. there’s nothing wrong with watching one of ranboo’s friends streams because ranboo is there, i do it all the time. a lot of us do. the biggest thing is to be RESPECTFUL to the person who’s stream you are watching. if you chat, chat to the streamer! you don’t have to mention ranboo. or, just stay out of chat if you don’t think you’ll be able to stay on topic. you don’t have to speak in chat! there is the flip side of this, don’t bring up other streamers in ranboos chat unnecessarily either! no one cares if you saw two colors and it made you think of something unrelated. it’s so disrespectful to the streamer to do this.

8a. unnecessary negativity

the internet can be a very negative, reactionary place. seeking out negativity just for the sake of an argument is unhealthy and can also expose others to arguments that they wouldn’t have had to see. bait, obvious unchanging bigots, and also people who just don’t like ranboo (which is valid!) don’t need to be engaged. in the case of trolls, bait and bigots, they only bring negativity and are there to cause arguments. don’t give them the attention they want. As for people who just don’t like ranboo, you can leave them be too! Not everyone has to like ranboo. he can handle it, you don’t need to defend him or try and change someone’s mind. now, unnecessary negativity does not equal call outs/criticism!

8b. please criticize !

if something happens in the community, or from ranboo directly that hurts you or makes you uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to say something and help make us all better people! ranboo wants criticism. if it’s purely in the community, try reaching out to the other person first! often things can be settled privately so as to not hurt others by dragging them into the conversation or making things heated and causing people to attack each other. on the other side of this, if you see criticism from someone and feel the need to defend ranboo: don’t. if you are affected by something (ie. you are a person of color and the topic is racism) feel free to add to the conversation! if you do not have an opinion on something (ie lesbians call out lesbiphobia, and you are straight) keep it to yourself. let the people actually affected by something talk and have an opinion, and support them. it may feel like people are “attacking” ranboo (or you!) but they are not. they are real people with real, valid feelings, who want to feel safe in a community when in real life, they may be constantly victims of horrible things. listen first. if you still have your own opinions, reflect on them and why you feel the way you do, and dissect any implicit bias you may have. these are all important things that keep a community safe, happy, and mutually respectful!

ranboo encourages everyone to be good people and use common sense. remember when you say something, people other than ranboo see it too! every account has a person behind it, so treat each other with respect and help make the community a more fun and safe place for everyone to be in. ranboo has no tolerance for bigotry, racism, misogyny, antisemitism, ableism, and so on. remember to be aware of the things you are saying, and if you don’t know why something is wrong, look it up or try asking someone politely!

thank you for taking the time to read all of this! this list is non exhaustive. there are plenty of other things you can do in the community to make this a better place, from uplifting the minorities in the community more, to supporting artists by reblogging/sharing and commenting on their art, and more. at the end of the day though we are here because we love ranboo, so by following guidelines like these and putting in the effort, you show ranboo and the other people in the community you care and make everyone proud.

that’s all for now! keep boobing!

[mochiotomedumplings]

analysis on sunday celestia trailer bcs getting into it is comforting. also the video is just so good now that i’m actually watching it, so much on sunday as a character (and generally an amazing cinematic work of art).

he’s just falling the entire time 😭

if we had wings made me cry bcs of how sad-hopeful it is, of trying your best to be someone else’s hope and protect them like how you had been by someone else. robin could not look away from her audience and herself, back on that first stage and the promise shared with her brother. like how she had been protected and given hope, she too would protect and become the hope of others, sharing the song that once comforted and gave her peace in moments of need (crying again).

i couldn’t not see how much sunday was like a pillar of support for her, even only as that bright-eyed boy building her first stage and sharing a dream of delivering hope and joy to everyone (their songs). but also see how sunday had already seemed to want to stay in the back supporting her instead of singing along with her - this would further be referenced in his own video - also how both robin and sunday were living lives being constantly watched by others, robin was able to escape for just a bit but sunday was only falling further until the dream was broken. but why the difference ?

sunday’s celestia trailer started with him using the harmony to question himself, almost like he had to resort to such a thing to be honest/ see his true thoughts & feelings. he is all about always keeping himself proper and “stately” - composed, orderly - due to and on top of what he was doing his whole life, being in the spotlight and leading others. as the “older brother”, the protector, the one in charge, showing his true emotions, weakness, any indication that things were not going well or he could not be counted on was almost impossible - a dereliction of duty, or just what he must not do, if he were to protect what he must.

if he had already been so “iron-fisted” as a child, so hard on himself and being “in order”, not only was this about him being manipulated at a young age but just how Early it was that he got into the order. 2.7 implied that it was aideen park when he had first enforced “order”, but it was not actively known to him back then. he must have known joining the order was a betrayal to robin, to their promise of sharing the song of harmony - i believe this was reflected by his first “fall” in the video.

sunday fell a total of three times - i will call it past, present and future. in the past segment, it started with him recounting the original dream he had with robin - the contrast of the vulnerability in his voice compared to strictness of the question & his usual measured tone was beautiful. it felt like he was just about to cry but holding back - and this would happen again. i think it reflected his guilt over what he did to robin, betraying the dream they had.

tuning into the past, we saw him walk to robin singing with the children - but he was not quite there with them, standing at a distance in slight shade. even in “paradise” he was not even next to his sister, only a supporting figure (note how he wears the family head garbs while robin wears soft casual clothes, even in his most beautiful dream he was more a protector than the one singing and bringing joy to others) (he’s playing the harmonica but it feels different from the scene of the two of them on the piano - mirroring robin leaving him after that, at some point sunday has decided he wants to support her at the back rather than sing alongside her).

then the dream turns dark - from his voice “such a small wish” we could tell just how much he had wanted to make the promise with robin come true. now that it is dark, the “light” on stage is no longer a good thing. i think it refers to reality “the shadow that looms over the dream”, perhaps the “dark side of adulthood” he had mentioned in his lines. it can be said that he’s more of an overthinker and more sensitive than robin - so many references of him crying next to robin wiping the floor with those paparazzis - and thinking back to what he said about violence and arguments and finding peace in the dreamscape, the stellaron disaster they went through, that “shadow” must have been sunday’s anxiety and/ or actual problems they faced in their childhood (robin woke up from ena’s dream bcs it was “too blissful”). what sunday did not tell robin, possibly gopher wood making use of his fears and showing him all the shortcomings of the harmony, it was enough for him to have lost the dream/ betrayed the promise: it was originally about sharing the song of the harmony, but he lost hope in the harmony (fell from the dream world made from jigsaw pieces like xipe). that was his first fall (he must have felt so much guilt all this time, which culminated into him being a “disappointment” to robin in 2.7).

i think him relegating himself to a supporting role and turning to the order were both due to sunday’s innate sense of responsibilities & protectiveness and their childhood circumstances. perhaps he would have been “wonweek” had things been different, but it’s not just one thing that’s led to the current him.

almost forgot, a darker light shone over robin and the kids - in the dark state the “light” meant bad things - representing the dangers that did/ could happen to robin. this mirrored how sunday talked about robin as one of the reasons he chose ena’s dream - it was worrying over robin that influenced why he lost faith in the harmony.

he had fallen from harmony, but had the dream changed to him ? he said he “didn’t know” - this led us to the present segment, of what led him to manifest ena’s dream in penacony. “the people in the land of dreams live in a different kind of prison” this refers to the prison of self-value he talked about in the quest, survival of the fittest. he tried to help the child, only to be bound by thorns then fell.

the thorns had been really intriguing to puzzle out, as they were in many places and all over sunday as well. we first saw them in the past scene, right after he fell - the thorns in the dream seen through the cracks of the harmony. i believe they represented the kind of prison sunday was trying to overcome with ena’s dream - the constraints, the suffering that made people unable to pursue happiness in reality. they were in the harmony’s dream, showing that sunday lost faith bcs of how the harmony’s belief of “the strong protecting the weak” had failed, where it was more “the strong oppressing the weak” and the people suffered (the thorns) if they were weak.

it was once again reflected in the present segment - sunday being shackled in chains/ thorns as penacony enemies crowded over him (strong over the weak - it seemed there’s more than one instances of sunday alluding to himself as weak/ helpless - like the previous scene when he was seen falling and “unable to protect those he loves”. it must have fuelled his desire for control and safety even more) (perhaps that’s also what he meant by “overcoming the thorns” - overcoming his past weakness of overindulging in the dream).

the enemies then pushed him into his second fall, this time falling into ena’s hands (eyes of the order). it also signified that he agreed with the plan because of the corruption he saw on penacony - manipulation or otherwise, ena’s dream had been fuelled by a desire to “save” the ppl - with absolute order, he would be able to “break” those chains and ensure happiness for all, liberating people from the prison of self-value and they would truly be happy. the thorns were about the suffering in a reality of “survival of the fittest”, the helplessness of everyone living in it.

oh all these falls… it’s just like the caged bird that fell all those times. “falling was originally just another name for flying” the parallel kinda uncanny, i guess while it could mean he considered a large part of his past as failures, that the last fall towards reality (towards tomorrow, towards the stars as mentioned in one dream jigsaw) was depicted in such a bright, positive and freeing animation next to all those flying birds meant that despite his broken wings, he was “flying” - no longer trapped in the past of a fallen bird, he too would fly/ fall like everyone will wake up to another day in the real world (the bird may fall, may not be able to fly, may not have a “future” - but still it belongs to the sky, falling or flying, it will always come back to the sky, like ppl will eventually wake up to tomorrow).

(the parallel with that passage at the end of aven’s story and not having a morrow… such foils)

the stage has many symbolism to him, but the curtain he was looking at while being questioned was the one that was covering the stellaron - it was when he opened it that we came to the future segment. when ena’s dream was enacted - we see so much of his true feelings from his voice, so unlike his usual composed self - he had been so certain of the dream coming true. the sheer hope and joy as he spoke of it, but here we have another instance of him sounding like he was about to cry but holding back. there’s a callback to the piano scene with the twins as children, but they faded away to a lone piano with no more song. then the septimus choir, and back to the empty piano again - i think just like that first scene, it showed how sad he was over the promise with robin.

the certainty with which he spoke of the paradise of the choir, the joy he seemed to exude talking about their dream coming true - was a brilliant contrast to the crack in his voice, that lonesome piano, the obvious contrast to their original dream. it showed that he was conflicted over the betrayal - he knew deep down it was no longer the same, and it hurt to not be able to keep their promise, but ena’s dream, that brief paradise had been so beautiful, had brought him so much joy that it was just like that beautiful dream we saw at the start, the one time he had sounded happy (i think the dream had given him so much reprieve from his life, imagine if he had been constantly worrying and also the stress of his job and the suffering of the people that he could not help but want to save… ena’s dream must have felt like a fix-it moment, as though the paradise they seeked had actually come).

then the breakdown of the dream. why is everyone so silent ? the voice was so harsh, so self-berating - the moment people started wanting to leave the dream, he fell into pieces (just like his boss fight, after robin started singing), once again showing how much he cared about and was affected by the happiness of the people “they aren’t laughing anymore”. then the choir members slowly turned into crows and flew away, a great cinematic moment as sunday realized the truth. this scene showed the ppl leaving the dream, the singers turning into sunday’s own crows flying away so he’s the only one left (the ppl didn’t want his paradise anymore, only he wanted to keep dreaming). it culminated into sunday being wrapped up in those very thorns he had wanted to be free from, under ena’s gaze, the irony that he was the only one left and so thoroughly gripped by such insiduous thorns and he called it the “sweet dream”. the conductor who thought he would stay awake and guide ppl to true happiness in the dream, had been the one stuck in the dream all along. the bleak color of that scene was really tragic, that all this time he was still helpless, still chained up after all. and he’s all alone.

and there’s a few snapshots of him being mired in the darkness - there’s crow feathers and hands grabbing at him, reminiscent of that image of him before the fight in 2.7 that was referring to his past titles and responsibilities in penacony - could be referring to how he himself isn’t “happy” so how can he give a song of happiness to ppl, it isn’t a true paradise. and omelas reference to how he’s the only one awake and suffering in reality. and symbolically, perhaps how he’s been the “traitor” and weighed down by what he went through over the years, suffering of the people and thorns of the order.

then the bird broke out of the cage between the harmony and the order, and the last actor left the stage, the show was over. sunday - the crow - turning almost all white again, and the conductor turning (back) into “sunday” again (the show of the past had ended, and he too had woken from the dream) (into the light, he’s finally in the light proper) (you can tell he’s more free and expressive from his wings before and after).

there’s a hole above the stage with thorns seen beyond it, i believe this was made by the bird breaking out of the enclosure that sunday was in i was cracking, he walked out from the dark like backstage or something during the why does life slumber part - the thorns look like they’re beyond the gap but they are part of the dream, stopping him from leaving.

he broke away from the thorns of the order and realized the truth of what he had done (that the order, what he did was the same as the constraints on the weak in reality), seeing the dream for what it really was (a deserted stage beyond the cage of the harmony and order in his inner mind, a dream in a dream… reminds me of omelas again, how he’s the only one trapped by the thorns to make everyone happy, and everyone left him behind).

the moment of wakening, the final question in the reminiscence and dream, why does life slumber ? then he fell from the stage into the sky of flying birds, “flying”. then he fell into a liquid world of sort, mirroring the liquid we had to be in to enter the dream. like he was falling into another world (he’s been in the dream for so long, remember how he kept working in the dreamscape) and it’s him really waking up to the real world, just like everyone else, opening his eyes to tomorrow. that even though the real world is full of unknowns and out of his control, and he can no longer “fly” - it’s a beautiful sky and he’s free, falling towards the stars.

and he’ll surely overcome the thorns - of his past, of the suffering of the world where there will always be a paradise to build. go reach the stars king 😭😭✨