#Beauty standards are a way to be seen as more human n worthy but so is performing a behavior. Like masking or showing parts of u

[fumifooms]

I should have touched on dark elves in my beauty standards post... Let me just slap this on here real quick. So as we went into there, beauty standards can show political dynamics and sort of reflects the politics of who get to be seen as human, who get to be seen as desirable and promoted within a society. So like, beauty is power right, in the sense that beauty standards are highly influenced by the ones in power, the ones who have the time & resources to look a certain way and the power to present that look as desirable to large groups. It’s complex and diverse but generally beauty standards are upheld by the elite, the influential.

By the former 'time & resources' thing I mean stuff like clothes, health, makeup or even cosmetic surgeries, or even simply the freedom to only go out in public when you look your best— Meanwhile the latter, the power to present that look as desirable to large groups, usually applies more to situations where it’s about a whole category of people like an ethnicity that was uplifted as the ideal. Not just in a political or economic dynamic, but discrimination on a systematic level without regard for individual appearance or action.

For example in the former, not all people who wear makeup are rich, and while makeup did historically help signal status, if you’re poor and wear nice makeup you can still touch some of that beneficial association with the beauty standards that makeup helps you attain. In the latter……. Well you get, "no, all elves are good! So the elves who do bad things must be something else!". Where, in trying to have uniform standards for a whole group, you kinda just get erased or othered if you don’t conform to expectations. The elves especially put effort into giving off this air of perfection, which they've successfully made tallmen populations believe. So, for those people, the answer that "But elves are inherently good and beautiful and perfect?" asks, isn't "well elves mustn't be inherently perfect", but instead is "there must be bad ones too, innately too." A similar phenomenon happens with the reverse too, where people will say there are "the good ones" within a group that's seen negatively.

"But Fumi, in this case the difference is purely linguistic and perceived, there’s no visual difference!" Yeah, and there being little visual distinction between two groups has never stopped people from being discriminated tbh. Different types of christians seeing each other as heathwbs for example, or the deep british vs irish hatred that has existed. A tidbit of history I find fascinating was the infamous use of "speak white" from english-speaking canadians against french-speaking canadians especially, because complicated history aside, last century as the business owners the anglophones had the power over the majoritarily francophone working class and a lot of political sway even though they were the minority in the Québec region. There’s a different cultural and ethnic identity there, and language was the most important difference between the two groups- and I suppose the most noticeable one.

The way we as social creatures and social groups categorize people and the groups they form is complex, interesting and very important to our society and the way we approach both the world and social interactions, and that's what leads to discrimination. We decide what’s important and then we decide it’s what people should be judged and distinguished by. Belonging to a group is a show of status, and can be a weaponized both ways, for and against. If you’re not worthy to be an elf, a "good" elf, then you’re not.

Interesting especially because looking at the elf portraits page there seems to be many different cultures within the elf race, so yes "good elf" vs "dark elf" is considered something like a race rather than an ethnicity or culture presumably. There's definitely a "main" elven culture since it seems pretty uniform whenever it's brought up in the adventurer's bible and the story, though, wether the differenr cultures form different communities in different places or live together as one nation. But maybe more treated like a mental illness since it’s acquired, or sometimes slang? It's not completely clear wether it's thought of as fully innate or something learned, a chosen moral failure like sin is, but with how they speak about it they do sound very essentialists, even Chilchuck seems to get a chill considering Marcille could be one. Quoting Kui's lore comic, "There are two kinds of elves, nice holy elves and evil elves bewitched by darkness". It’s just considered like an innate thing that separates them from the concept of elves... 🤔 But this sort of category being vague is often a feature and not a bug, because then they can be a boogeyman to bring up just whenever is convenient, that can fit whoever, like calling a kid a "fairy's child" for whatever behavior in the olden days, because if you don't precise a lot what a dark elf is then it can apply to whoever you see fit, and it doesn't need to be coherent or consistent. The sort of discrimination headspace that leads to the classic fascist "the enemy is both strong and weak" type rethoric.

"Dark elves" is interesting within Dunmeshi because it's about people trying to fully separate elves from the concept of bad and untrustworthy people, even though they look the same. "Elf" isn’t just a beauty standard, it is The ultimate ideal of perfection both in appearance and morality, and if something threatens that perception and reputation it has to get rationalized and compartmentalized. Those are coping mechanisms to avoid having your whole world view challenged or shattered. To tallmen who practically worship elves, it’s a huge deal!! To them that makes it make sense! Some elves are born good and some elves are born evil, simple as! No world view re-examination needed!

So for Marcille for example... It’s interesting because she has an outside view of elven society despite being elven herself. She was raised amongst tallmen, aka the people who idolize elves to this intense degree. It had to have affected her dynamics with others— not unlike the academy students, mostly gnomes and tallmen, who looked up to her as some natural-born genius, even though she did do research and study to get her skills and grades. It also had to affect her relationship with having a role model growing up (having none around except for her mother who pretty much renounced her elven culture, a novel series that sensationalizes and glamorizes elves), her dynamic with being elven itself, because even though she doesn't feel like she fully fits into it she's interested in elven culture, and she herself enforces the beauty standards around elves and acts elitist about it- as seen when tallmen actors playing Daltian Clan opera, when men are very masculine rather than very androgynous like with Laios, having long hair, having no facial or body hair. With this angle, all of this behavior of hers is very "internalized high standards that were my bible to follow growing up and so others must follow them too and these high standards must be worth upholding".

Considering everything, elves being looked up to as a role model in appearance and behavior, plus them having the reputation of being great at magic, and Marcille having grown up amongst mostly tallmen, we start understanding that there was IMMENSE pressure on Marcille to conform to that idea of an elf. She has a lot of pressure and a very high beauty & behavior compass to conform to. She also has an idealist and rigid sense of justice and morals, like how Namari is a heartless traitor for leaving instead of coming along to save Falin, and she needs people to believe she has noooo facial or body hair. She probably WAS afraid of being seen as a dark elf, aka fundamentally evil, for her dark magic research. You don't want to be a letdown, do you? You don't want to be the ugliest elf, do you? You don't want to be a dark elf, do you? You don't want to be one of the bad ones.

Shave your facial hair and deny you have any body hair. Take care of elven traditions like hair-braiding and have pride. Be the kind, smartest model student. Do magic by the book. Never do dark magic. Ah shit-

And so she hid the domain of her research, and so she hid being a half-elf.

[untaemedqueen]

SandB Series

Alpha Werewolf!Taehyung x Mate!Reader

Chapter 12.

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Feelings of Inadequacy, Use of Oc's Powers, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praise, Lactation Kink, Sexual Acts Involving Jeongguk, Jimin, Yoongi, Use of The Term: Bitch, Pregnancy Kink, Milk Drinking,  Cunnilingus, Knotting, (Minor) Jungkook Handjob, Cream Pie

Being in Summit is eye opening on levels you never thought you would begin to grasp.

It's not just discovering you have powers, it's seeing how these two species you once considered mythological act around each other.

Even how they act within their own groups.

You've come to understand recently, or feel more accurately, that the Fae do not actually like the werewolves. In fact, there's a film of hatred that pours from their territory into the wolves.

It's shocking in all honesty, how do they keep up the charade? How do they keep the wolves from not knowing their fervent hatred?

It astounds you almost everyday.

What you've also come to realize is how different packs are than the one you're in.

Yes, even though you're a human, you've been told very rigorously by the servants that you are indeed still a part of the pack.

With your mate being pack Alpha, it seems that you're also held to a higher standard than all the other wolves in this group.

You can feel constant judgement from other female werewolves when you pass them in the streets or when they just pass by you on a whim.

Sylai, a female Omega you've been spending time with almost as much as Namjoon has been, seems to know all the hot gossip at the drop of a hat. However, she is timid and skittish at times whenever your best friend Alpha is around.

The pretty Omega is always quick to tell you why you're an outcast here and although you shouldn't be upset about it -- you almost always are.

You've come to terms with the fact that werewolves don't normally find their mates in humans, you've heard it from Taehyung's lips on more than one occasion, but you didn't think it would disgust others as much as it does.

When you've had the chance to view other packs, they seem to operate on levels of hierarchy you've never seen before.

The Alphas are always on top, the Betas a close second and the Omegas, most times, are treated like play things. Which is why you can understand that Sylai makes herself so small around Joon.

When you've been able to see other Alphas mates, they're very accommodating and docile. They're almost always pregnant which you understand and they bow to their Alphas every wish.

Sometimes you recall your past fights with Taehyung and lump forms in your throat. You can remember how he wished that you would just listen sometimes or not make comments and it truly makes you wonder… what if you aren't right for him?

You feel strong, thick muscled arms curling around your waist as you stare at the other packs down below your bedroom balcony.

"Hi, beautiful," your mate whispers, spreading his hand over your small belly.

"Hi," you breathe, letting your eyes flutter shut.

He's been away a lot recently, most because of the High Council asking his opinions of what to do with the rabid werewolves still at large -- including his parents.

"I missed you, baby girl." he coos, drifting his lips slowly over your mate mark.

You hum in agreement, running the tips of your fingers over his arms.

He peeks over your shoulder to look down at the random pack near the forest's edge.

He watches the Alpha snarl and snap his teeth at a Beta when he gets to close to his mate. Your fiance chuckles, burying his face in your hair.

"What's funny?" you inquire softly.

"Betas don't know how to behave sometimes," he replies, lifting the hem of your shirt to caress your growing belly.

Sometimes you feel completely out of your element and this feeling has been growing ever since you found out you're one of the Fae.

Maybe it's because you feel like you don't even know yourself anymore. You don't know who you are or who you should be.

The soothing scent of pine and musk breeches your senses once more and you allow yourself to be calmed by your mate at this very moment.

"Sylai has been spending a lot of time with Joon." you comment to him.

He hums in agreement, wanting to ignore his Alpha duties for just one minute of the day. If he accepts this fact, then his wolf will have to welcome someone new into the pack and he would just rather have these moments alone with you.

"I've seen it." he murmurs, pulling you closer to his body.

"Are you going to let her join your pack?" you ask, turning around to him.

You really like Sylai and you would really appreciate more female company around.

"Probably, Joon deserves to be happy." he answers, not wanting to dive head first into the matter.

"I mean, she's really sweet. I think she would be good for your pack."

The words 'your pack' don't sit right with your mate for a second. And he voices it openly as he pulls you over to the bed. "Why do you keep saying that? You keep saying 'your pack'? It's our pack. You're my mate, you're in this pack too." he inquires with a raised eyebrow, sitting down on the bed.

He pats his lap, leaning back on his elbows and like always you straddle him immediately.

"Well, I'm not a wolf. I'm a Fae or… just human so…"

He can smell your timidness, he can hear your heart hammering with worry and his wolf suddenly feels protective.

"What's wrong, baby?" he whispers, dragging his thumb over your lower lip.

You shake your head slightly, running your fingers over his tight black t-shirt that seems to hug each and every sinewed muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Hey now," he breathes, flipping you over so you're laying down beneath him.

You don't make eye contact with him, you don't so much as look above his stomach as he lays down beside you.

"Y/N?" he murmurs, kissing your temple.

It's stuffy in the room, you've come to realize or it just feels that way with his prodding questions.

"Y/N?" his voice is more forceful and you're just embarrassed to speak.

Werewolves aren't known for their patience. They need to know what's wrong, why this is happening and how to immediately fix it or there's very little in the world that will calm them down until the problem is solved.

The growl Taehyung emits throughout the room is a warning to you. It's a warning for you to speak up.

But you've seen Alphas immediately give in to their mates when they bare their necks. So you do so as well.

Taehyung's heart clenches in the recesses of his chest and he can almost scoff at your meekness. "Don't do that," he breathes, nuzzling your neck with his nose.

"Where's my spit fire mate today? What's wrong, baby?" he gasps, burying his face into neck.

"I'm sorry," you bleat.

"Sorry? Sorry for what? You're perfect, baby."

Your fiance can quite literally feel his heart panging with worry. He can hear some of your thoughts like you're screaming in the quiet room.

Inadequate

Unaccepted

Different

Human

Disgrace

"No, baby, no." he hisses, turning your face to look at him.

When your eyes don't meet his, he can only swallow thickly.

"I love you, baby girl." he promises, drifting his lips over your jawbone.

"I love you too." you mumble, looking down at your engagement ring.

"If-If you wanted to get another mate… maybe a wolf… I would understand."

The sharp breath Tae takes between his teeth, makes you shudder beside him. "Don't you dare, ever, suggest something like that. You're my soulmate, do you understand? You're my woman. My mate. I don't want anyone else, I could never be with anyone else."

"I'm not a wolf," you explain, turning to face him.

"So?! What does that have to do with anything?" he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Well, most other wolves are disappointed that I'm a human. I'm not-"

"Who fucking cares about those newborn pups?! Who cares what the fuck they think?! They aren't in my pack and they aren't my mate!" he curses, sitting up and carding his fingers through his silver mullet.

You can see his chest vibrating with growls and snarls. You know you're pushing him to the edge but you just can't help it -- your insecurities are trumping everything right now.

"Are you embarrassed of me? Embarrassed of our children? Our pups?" Taehyung inquires, looking at you with hardened blue eyes.

"No," you reply, turning your body away from him.

"Then what is going on in that head of yours? You feel inadequate? Because wolves look at you differently?"

You stay silent, squeezing your eyes closed.

"Answer me, Y/N." he urges, running his hands over your back.

"They...They just look at me like I'm a disease or something. Like I'm not worthy of being with you. And… I don't want to be a burden to you or your pack."

He scoffs loudly, hooking his arm around your body and pressing his chest flat to your back.

"I don't care about others. You're not a disease. You're not a burden. You're mine. You're my beautiful, precious, headstrong mate who is just as much a part of my pack as Guk or Jin." he breathes.

When your silence bleeds throughout the room, he doesn't think he can stomach it for another second.

His canines drop out of instinct and he clamps his teeth softly down on your mate mark. If you were a wolf, you would be arching back into him needily already but it grounds him to know that things aren't so easy.

Yeah, you're stubborn and reflexive but you're his. And he loves that so much that if the Earth was crumbling he wouldn't care as long as you're in his arms.

Taehyung lifts the hem of your shirt, cupping your small belly. "I don't need anyone else but you, Y/N. You're a fierce woman and I count myself lucky to know you and to have you as mine."

"I'm sorry… I was just embarrassed… I don't want to burden anyone." you hiccup, looking down at his hand.

"Never, baby. You're never a burden." he promises, pulling the straps of your tank top down.

From your belly to your clothed core, his hand digs beneath the band of your leggings.

"Why would I want a meek little wolf when I can have a fierce fairy in my bed." Tae quips, turning you flat on your back.

Your breath hitches and you gasp gently when his fingers part your lower lips.

"T-Tae," you whimper, allowing him to position you as he sees fit.

As he climbs above you, his eyes roam over your body as if you're prey and you can't help the excitement that begins to bleed from your pores.

"Do a little magic for me, babe," he quips, kissing down your neck.

Snapping your fingers, you relish in the deep growl he gives when you both are stark naked.

"Pretty girl," he drolls, palming both of your breasts in hand.

When your nipples begin to bead milk, he can almost surely feel his knot twitching to expand already.

"I love you." his voice is a purr that echoes throughout your limbs.

"I love you too."

The kiss he captures you in is passionate and heated. You can feel the sharp points of his teeth raking over your bottom lip until your aching with need at your center.

"Flip over for me, my wolf wants to show you how loved you are." he coos, suckling at your nipple.

Flipping over onto your front, you perch your ass in the air for him and the complete sense of dominating ripples through your mate.

His eyes harden over, pupil dilating as he stares at the puckered mate mark that scars your skin.

"My bitch is so pretty full of my pups," the Alpha growls, knocking his forehead against your temple.

His movements are fluid and firm, spreading your legs to situate himself between them.

The head of his cock glides through your now sodden folds and you quiver with anticipation.

"Alpha, please," you beg, lowering your forehead to the pillow.

His sharpened nails dance over your spinal column, purring at how submissive you sound beneath him.

"What is it my pretty mate? You're aching? You need Alpha's big cock in you? Want me to split you open so well you don't even remember your own name?" he prods, rutting his cock to your core.

"Yes! I need it!" you preen.

His hands grip onto your hips, massaging the flesh within his large, warm grip.

"Well, if that's what you need," he hums, entering you in one intrusive motion.

Your mouth drops open into a silent scream, your hands fumbling to grip the sheets until your knuckles turn white.

This sex is primal and mind shattering -- and everything you need.

Taehyung can hear your thoughts screaming once more and he's pleased with what he hears this time.

More.

Complete.

Mine.

Ours.

Nuzzling your neck, he lets your cunt accept the intrusion of his large cock. He takes to caressing your three month pregnant bump to distract you.

"That's it, baby. You look so gorgeous stuffed with my cock inside your pregnant pussy." he mumbles against your ear.

You can feel his muscles contorting and hardening against your back.

"I would never love someone like I love you. I would never wish to be buried in someone like this, baby girl. Let them talk all the shit they want, because you're the one that gets this hard cock at night." he growls, rolling his hips for you to feel every inch of his cock within you.

Your mouth waters and a sharp moan emits from you at the feeling.

"No one takes my knot but you. And no one would ever take it so well."

Taehyung lets his prideful thoughts bleed past his lips because he knows you need to hear them. He knows you need the assurance. And he may be Alpha, but he's a slave to your love first and foremost.

When he pulls his length almost all the way out, your body sings with hot pleasure -- it's every thick vein and ribbed muscle along his cock that gets your mind numb.

"Only my beautiful mate," he thrusts back in to prove his point, "gets fucked stupid by my cock."

Your back arches, his name falls from your lips like a prayer and you don't even have the strength to lift your head up and look back at him.

He creates a dazing, relentless pace, fucking you just hard enough to keep you babbling but not hard enough to get your orgasm to approach.

He's proving a point. He's making you his again and again with every thrust.

His canines sharpen longer and they clench down on your mate mark just hard enough for you to feel a sting sing through you.

"Hey, Tae-" the door is thrust open and you can barely focus on who's just intruded but your mate just chuckles against you.

"Come in and sit." he orders, pushing your hair away from your mate mark.

His fingers glide over your distending skin, kissing down your back with soft, open mouth pecks.

"My mate thinks she's not enough for our pack." he announces and fuzzily you can hear murmurs of shock.

"She thinks she's not worthy of my knot and my pups," he growls, fucking into you harder.

"Tae!" you whine, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust.

"But she's a pretty bitch that still bends to my will," he coos, focusing on how much of your arousal has coated his long, thick length, "Yoongi, come."

He pulls you up by your shoulders, pressing you up against his chest with a snarl.

Yoongi sits before you, not knowing where to look but licking his lips hungrily.

"You want him to suckle? You want our pack to need you, bitch? Is that it? You want your scent all over all of them? To show these filthy mutts who live in this city that you're a queen amongst mongrels?" he inquires, kissing the shell of your ear.

You don't know what's driving you, you don't know if it's the insanely arousing thought of being above everyone else or it's the thought of being on top of this pack. But the sharp 'yes' you moan out has Yoongi growling with anticipation.

"Feed," he orders the Beta.

You gasp loudly at the foreign feeling of Yoongi's lips against your puffy nipple. You adore how his eyes screw shut at the taste of you. His hands grip onto your sides and you're lost for words when he ruts his clothed hard cock against your thigh.

"See, my beautiful mate, you're above all here." Taehyung coos, pressing his hand to the apex of your thighs and rubbing smooth circles to your swollen clit.

"Jimin." Taehyung calls and you hear the earnest whimper of your best friend.

"No, I don't think I should… I'm-" Jimin breathes nervously.

"Well fuck, if you won't I will," Jungkook groans, pushing Jimin out of the way.

Your head lolls back to your mate's shoulder and your vision becomes blurry with the attention your body is being given.

Taehyung knows that his wolf is sharing you for the sake of proving a point but he can't help the way his cock twitches within you as he watches Yoongi hump your leg like a dog in heat.

Jeongguk's lips on you are familiar and suddenly you can smell the forest from that fateful day when your fiance shared you with the youngest pack member.

"You gonna cum? Hmm, beautiful? I can feel your pregnant cunt trying to milk my cock," your mate growls in your ear.

The small whimpers of the wolves suckling from your breasts, sends you over the edge and Yoongi is quick to press his hands against your rib cage to keep you from falling.

"That's a good little bitch," Taehyung gasps, fucking you with a fierceness to cum inside you.

"You want it, baby? You want my cum?" he goads, kissing over your mate mark.

"Yes, please," you cry out, carding your fingers through both Yoongi and Jungkook's hair.

Jimin lets out a sharp whine, feeling conflicted on what to do. But, this probably will never happen again in his lifetime and even though you're his best friend… he's not missing this. "Fuck it," he curses, jumping onto the bed.

He eyes you wearily for a second, avoiding your stomach which he knows is solely the Alpha's property and heads straight for your swollen, over-stimulated clit.

Your mate on instinct cups your growing stomach, growling as his best friend makes his dissent.

Your body shivers like a leaf when Jimin's plush lips kiss at your bundle of nerves.

"Oh God!" you cry out, gripping onto the boy's hair harder.

Yoongi curses against your breast, pulling off your nipple to catch his breath as his shorts become sticky and slack against his golden skin.

"Fuck, baby girl. I'm cumming," Taehyung murmurs breathlessly.

The swiftness of Jimin's tongue knocks the wind out of you and you spiral into another orgasm with ears filled with white noise and eyes seeing stars.

"Shit! Y/N!" your mate growls, pulling you back roughly to his cock until you’re squirting your arousal onto his thighs.

Jungkook whimpers needily, guiding your hand to his swollen cock.

"Pup," Taehyung warns him, stilling your hips as his thrusts become erratic.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, cursing loudly when he begins to cum inside you.

His lips tremble against your mate mark when his knot begins to inflate and you can only whimper at the stretch.

"Good girl taking my cock so well," your fiance coos, pressing his index finger beneath your chin and turning your head to kiss him.

"Noona, please. God!" Jungkook whines, nuzzling his face to your breast.

Taehyung can only give a breathy laugh against your lips. "See how needed you are? Guk is going to explode if you don't help him."

Jimin pulls away from your core with innocent eyes and he kisses your forehead gently.

"I'm gonna go check on Baek and Chan." he murmurs, hopping off the bed.

Your mate's eyes follow him as he leaves the room and he doesn't appreciate the bloom of pheromones that bleed from the Omega. Almost as if he's caught feelings for you.

You haven't noticed with your attention on the youngest.

He suckles eagerly from your breast, whimpering and whining as he fucks up into your hand.

"Gonna cum, noona. Oh shit," he whines, burying his face into the valley of your breasts.

You hum sweetly, combing your fingers through his long black locks.

The warmth that explodes onto your hand is a knowing sign of the youngest's release and he cries out softly against your skin.

"Clean her up," Tae warns him and he's quick to do the Alpha's command.

You can feel your tiredness beginning to exhaust you and your mate knows it right away. "She's sleepy, let me lay her down," he whispers, laying on his side with you.

The tug of his knot has you wincing slightly but he makes up for it with his sweet kisses to the back of your neck.

"One time thing," he tells them.

Yoongi pulls at his cum covered shorts with a grimace. "Good enough for me."

Taehyung's large hand caresses over your head and he can't help but think of the scent that was drifting off Jimin in waves.

"I love you," you mumble, closing your eyes.

"I love you too baby girl. You and our pups," he replies, drifting his hand over your belly.

He knows your asleep when his breathing gets shallow and his knot finally deflates after a while.

Taehyung turns onto his back, perching his hands beneath his head as he closes his eyes. His ears perk up and he takes a sharp breath through his nose when he hears Jimin mumble across the mansion.

"I-I don't know. I just felt so-"

"Don't let Taehyung catch you talking like this! She isn't ours," Yoongi hisses to the younger Omega.

"I almost had her before Taehyung y'know, is it so wrong of me to still want her?! You all wanted her at that moment!" Jimin scoffs.

"Jimin, what we did was to help a member of our pack feel safe. You are becoming obsessed with her." Jungkook accuses.

Taehyung's eyes spring open, a deep low growl emitting through his chest. He can feel his canines and nails sharpening themselves. Gripping his shorts, he jumps out of bed with one thing on his mind -- vicious anger.

He can hear the maids and servants whispering nervously as he stalks through the wolframite hallways.

Your mate isn't in the headspace to calm anyone down at the moment, he can't possibly think of others when his wolf is yearning to tear out his best friend's jugular.

Slamming the doors to the dining room open, his eyes scan his pack before finding him.

"Oh shit," Jin mumbles, cupping his mouth.

"GET OUTSIDE!" Taehyung barks to the Omega.

The whole pack avoids eye contact even Jimin.

Taehyung is fast -- so fast that Seokjin's hair blows in the breeze he creates.

The pack Alpha grips the Omega by the neck, hurdling him over the wooden bench he's currently sitting on and dragging him towards the large glass doors that lead out to the backyard.

"Taehyung!" Jimin whines but he's quick to shut up at the feral snap of Taehyung's teeth.

"Someone go wake up Y/N! This is so bad!" Jin yelps, rushing after both of the wolves.

SandB Taglist-  @jvcqneliue, @gooplibrary, @imaforeigner, @wickizer, @mychemical-friendship, @justmewondering-recs, @stories1907, @stressedinmedschool247, @taeslittletiger, @claireelise19, @neobanguniverse​, @kb-bangtanenthusiast​, @almosthappysublime, @thedarkwinterrose​

[elysianslove]

okay i just need osamu or atsumu (can't decide which one) to comfort me. i got my college exam results and i failed it. sometimes you study hard but it doesn't work, and yeah i'm a little disappointed with myself today so can you do that? i need to read something that makes me smile and your work is so awesome. otherwise, you can totaly ignore that!

hi lovely! i know how demotivating it can be to put in a lot of work for something and not get the result you want, but i promise you, one bad grade really doesn’t determine anything at all. your efforts will be seen soon enough. just try your very, very best not to give up, and continue to pull through. it’ll be worth it all in the end ily so much <3 

and yes, of course i can write this for you!!! i didn’t choose a boy though, and left it open for you to imagine who you’d like <3 

“ya plannin’ on leavin’ yer personal cocoon, babe?” 

at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you huff, burying yourself deeper against the mattress and lifting the blanket wrapped around you over your head, obstructing your view. 

“don’t do that, you’ll suffocate,” he scolds, but you only whine lowly. “what will the reporters say? ‘cause of death: a blanket and stupidity’?” 

“am i?” you mumble. you’d expected the first sound of your voice to have him react differently, to sarcastically rejoice, to taunt you more, but all he does is fall eerily quiet. you hear his footsteps advance you, and behind the thin blanket that covers you, all light suddenly disappears as a tall figure stands before you. you see his dark, silhouetted frame lean over you, until his hands find your covered body, and all of a sudden, his arms group around you, and you’re being lifted up. “hey wha—!” 

“i had no other choice,” he dramatically interrupts, and you roll your eyes as he lifts you up in his arms, bridal style. the blanket falls away, revealing your face to him, along with your puffy eyes and pouty lips. “there’s m’pretty baby.” 

you frown up at him as he steadies you in his arms, walking across your bedroom over to your door, kicking it open. “where are we going, exactly?”

if he notices how hoarse your voice is, he doesn’t mention it. 

“the couch.”

you roll your eyes again. it seems to be a recurring theme tonight. 

just as promised, he finds the couch in your living room, sitting you down onto it and snatching the blanket away before you can form yet another cocoon and bury yourself out of sight. feeling vulnerable, you lift your knees up to your chest, hugging your legs close to you. your boyfriend, after folding up the blanket on the chair far from you, finds a seat to your side, and sitting perpendicular to you, leans over, resting his hands on your knees, and his chin on his hands. 

“so, what’s got someone as stunnin’ and smart as you so upset?” he asks, smiling softly up at you. 

your lower lip quivers slightly, and this time, he doesn’t pretend not to notice. he sits up straighter, all humor subsiding. 

“hey, hey,” he starts, shuffling closer to you. he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb soothing against the tear stained skin, a single tear brushed away. “it’s okay, m’here for ya. i promise.” 

breathing in shakily, you bite back a sob, and ask, “am i stupid?” 

he looks baffled, genuinely taken aback. “what? what do you mean ‘am i stupid’?” 

his touch remains soft and gentle on your skin, urging you to keep your gaze focused on him. he’s observing you carefully as you struggle to find the words, eyes watering again. but he doesn’t rush you, nor does he speak. there’s no need to race against time with him. he’s always made it seem like it’s you and him against the world, that something as feeble as time would do little to affect anything. it’s you that has the upper hand, you that has control, over everything, your life, your decisions, the people you let in, the people you let go of, the struggles and hardships you face, the happiness that makes it all worth it. he’s never expected you to always be strong, not when he himself can’t amount to a promise like that. he reminds you constantly that you’re human, you’re flawed in the most beautiful way, you’re allowed to make mistakes, and it’s not the end of you. there’s always another chance. 

and he doesn’t need to say it, not ever, and not now, in this moment. he lets you catch your breath, and take your time in doing so. he lets you try and formulate the right words, in the right sentence, to make to sense of your situation, to explain it to him. and even if you don’t, he won’t pester you. all he’ll do is what he does best: hold you through it, maybe run a bath, eat your feelings out with you, take you somewhere quiet where you can scream as loud as you’d like with no consequences. because that’s who he is, to you. a steady presence, your pillar of strength and hope and love. 

“you’d still love me even if i failed? once or twice or a hundred times?” you tentatively ask. 

“well,” he starts, fingers carefully brushing at your hair, “i don’t think that changes who ya are, does it?” 

your chest heaves, and your hand lifts up to wrap around his wrist, tightly. it doesn’t matter if it’s ground yourself, or to ensure that he won’t let go. he lets you. 

“i know it hurts, baby, but no one gets anything without trial n’ error, do they? practice makes perfect, never give up, yada yada— point is, it’s somethin’ so small in the grand scheme of things,” he says. “it’s a building block, kinda. it’s important, sure, but it doesn’t mean you won’t ever get a chance like it again. you’ll prove yer worth, i know it. but trust me, yer never not worthy in my eyes.” 

managing a smile, you tilt your head, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. he smiles back, softly. 

“with patience, baby,” he adds. “i believe in ya. yer not stupid. yer the smartest person i know— not a very high standard, you’ve seen the idiots i’m around— but still. yer plenty smart, and the fact that you’ve made it this far accounts for somethin’ right?” 

not trusting your voice, you simply nod. 

at this, his smile widens, and he relaxes a bit, before he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i love ya,” he says, pressing another firm kiss to your temple, then leaning lower to kiss your lips. “always.” he seals his promise by pressing his lips to yours, mumbling lowly about how you taste like the ocean, before kissing you a little harder. 

as always, it will be okay. eventually.  

[krreader]

BTS scenario → dating an “average” girl.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts  warnings: / genre: angst ; fluff  word count: 1.6k+

a/n: let me start off by saying that I really don’t like to use the word average, because I think everyone is special in their own way. now, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted this to be angsty or not, but I decided to mix it up and throw a little bit of both in there, which I hope you enjoy :)

kim seokjin

“I don't think I'll be a good work-out-buddy, Jin,” you nervously looked around, “And besides, people are looking at me.”

“Hey,” he quickly grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes, “You pay attention to nobody but me, okay? None of these people here matter, only you and I do. And you work out as much as you can and once it becomes too hard or you don't feel like it anymore, you'll stop.”

You had often complained to Jin about your body, but had been too afraid to go into a gym on your own. So he had offered to go with you to one of the private ones that a lot of idols often used and to help you with the exercising.

It was a good deal at first, but now that you were actually here, you began to realize that you knew jack-shit about working out and that you'd probably make a fool out of yourself.

However, the moment that you started, you forgot everything around you.

Jin made this day extremely fun and every time you 'messed up', your boyfriend turned it into a funny situation that had you laugh and not blush from embarrassment.

Others were probably judging you, but you didn't notice.

All you could see was this man in front of you, loving you unconditionally the way you were now, but wanting to help you on your journey to self-love in any way he could.

min yoongi

Yoongi had once been so worried about what would happen once the media would find out about you and him, especially because of your previous hatred for yourself.

But you've worked on those issues. You've worked hard to love yourself the way you were, to accept that you'd never have that flat stomach because – surprise – your organs had to find a place somewhere in your body. To accept that you'd forever have acne scarring, which now reminded you of the hard times and made you appreciate the current, good times.

So whenever there was yet another blog post of a jealous fan bashing one of the things that you used to hate about yourself, you just nodded to yourself and said: “They're probably going through their own struggles right now. One day, they will get over it.”

Jealousy was a bitch, you've experienced that first hand.

But as you've finally come to accept yourself, you've realized that you had no reason to be jealous of others anymore.

You were happy with yourself.

Yoongi leaned against the door frame and watched you put your phone down, then grab your cup of coffee and watch the rain pour outside.

And all he could think of was: “You're the most beautiful woman on this planet. Thank you for finally having realized that yourself.”

jung hoseok

Hoseok walked into the living room after having taken a shower and found you scrolling through your Instagram, liking pictures of several girls that he was sure you had never seen or met before.

All girls that looked a certain way. ‘Perfect’, as you used to call them.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to you and said: “We talked about this. You don't need to look like this, you're pretty the way you are, you know?”

“I do,” you smiled at him, “But I still think they're pretty. And I know how important it is to tell someone they're beautiful. You never know what they’re struggling with about themselves at the moment.”

You've come a long way.

Two years ago, you would have looked at these pictures and beaten yourself up over it. You would have gone on a diet the next day, the hairdresser the day after and the dermatologists soon thereafter.

But now? Now you could look at these pictures and leave compliments under them that the original owner of the photo always liked and thanked you for, because as you said, you never knew what somebody was struggling with about their appearance at that time and something as simple as a compliment from a stranger could mean the world.

“I'm so proud of you,” Hoseok whispered and pulled you against him.

“Me too,” you grinned happily.

jung hoseok

Once upon a time you had thought that if you wanted to date Kim Namjoon, you had to be some sort of prodigy.

But, newsflash, you weren't.

And while you had been more than upset about this years ago and thought that you were not worthy of being with him, you had now come to accept that you were normal.

And normal was good.

Normal, was what Namjoon loved the most about you, after your kindness and your warmth that you had for the people you loved and cared for. He didn't need you to be special by playing some instrument perfectly, because you were already special enough for him for just being you.

And as you were lying in bed and he was running his fingers through your hair, he whispered: “I love you more than I can say.. you know that right?”

It surprised you, but you still smiled, “I do. I love you too. And..-” you pushed yourself up a little to look him in the eyes and chuckled, “I love me too.”

It was a little inside joke. Something that Namjoon made you say over and over again when you had troubles accepting yourself once again. And now, you could say that sentence and honestly mean it.

And man, he was so proud of that.

park jimin

It really wasn't easy being with him when he was this perfect specimen of humanity and you were – in your eyes – the worst it could offer.

“You look gorgeous,” Jimin smiled happily when you walked out of the changing room, but you weren't quite as happy with yourself.

“It doesn't fit properly.”

“Hm, I think it does,” Jimin got up and took a closer look at it, “Zipper is up, straps aren't too tight.. I think it's good!”

“No, I mean.. this,” you pointed at your belly, “I told you I can't wear a dress as tight as this, I don't have your stomach,” it came out a lot more spiteful than you intended for it to.

But he didn’t take it to heart, thankfully 

“And thank god for that,” Jimin let out a laugh, then grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “My stomach reminds me of the nights in which I had to starve myself to look like people expect me to look. Your stomach reminds me of how healthy you are and how I don't have to worry about you.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment, then you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping, “Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up..-”

“Don't apologize. If anything, apologize to yourself for always being so hard on you and always finding an imperfection that isn't one,” he kissed your forehead, “You're so beautiful, angel,” he whispered, nearly making you cry.

kim taehyung

Taehyung could feel that there was something wrong today just from the way you texted him back. You didn't put any of your normally used emoji's after your texts, your answers were short and the amount of time it took you to even reply, was suspicious.

At first, he had thought that maybe something that he had done had upset you, but the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that that couldn't be. When re-reading your goodnight message from last night, everything was normal.

So it must be something else.

Once his break started, he decided that he'd spend it at your place and see what it was that was troubling you. He hadn't told you that he'd be coming, so you were looking at him, not in surprise, but shock.

“What are you doing here?!” you immediately turned around and scurried back into your apartment, leaving Taehyung to close the door behind himself with furrowed eyebrows.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. I don't have a good day today, okay?”

Your boyfriend placed the bag of take-away on the floor and then walked over to you, gently turning you around by your shoulder to look at you, only to see that issue seemed to be something so trivial, that it made him let out a heavy sigh.

“Really, (Y/N)?”

“It's so ugly. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I just.. popped them. And now I look even worse than before and I hate it!”

You've been struggling with your skin for a while, had often gone to dermatologists that Taehyung had recommended to you, but while it did get a little better, you didn't have the skin that he had. And that is what you wanted. A journey that would take longer than four months, however. And... well, you were impatient. 

“How many times do I need to tell you that pimples are natural? That having acne is nothing to be ashamed about?”

“Easy for you to say, looking like your skin was made out of glass.”

“And you know how much I need to do for it. How many times I need to get treatments,” his hands slid down until he could hold yours, “You're still beautiful to me. Pimples won't change that. But popping them isn't good for your skin, it's only going to make it worse. You need to let it heal, as hard as it is.”

Again, this was easy for him to say and not so easy for you to do. You've had this conversation before and you were sure that you'd have it again and again.

But you were glad to hear these words. Because at that moment, it was what you needed to feel a little better.

jeon jeongguk

It wasn't hard to figure out that you never wanted to come to these dinners because you were uncomfortable around the other members' girlfriends. They were, what society would consider, 'the standard'. They were, what women were told to look like. They were, what people thought idols’ girlfriends should look like.

And every time you joined these dinners, you realized that you were none of these things.

You weren't the perfect woman, unlike the others.

Or so you believed.

“You're home early,” you stated as you closed the book in your hands, “Wasn't it fun?”

“It was,” Jeongguk nodded, taking off his shoes, before falling onto the couch and placing his head in your lap, smiling as you immediately began to brush your fingers through his hair, “But being here with you is better.”

He could spend his days trying to convince you that you were what he wanted, exactly the way you were now.

Or, he could simply show you.

And he opted for option number two.

[darksiderssin]

Keter Duty

This is gonna stay as a oneshot for now, I think. I want to make it longer and eventually make a more official looking entry like something off the SCP Wiki, but here we go. Tagging @imagine-darksiders because this was their idea. I promise there’s some semblance of a plot I’m cooking up for this, but it’ll be posted up on Ao3 if I write more.

“Enter the chamber, D-091337.”

You hated that voice on the P.A system- cold, clinical, uncaring. Just another Tuesday for these people, for you it could be your last day alive, like so many forced into the dens of the monsters they kept here, and it felt like you’d been marched to the gallows. You sighed- could be worse, you supposed. You could have been forced into the femur breaker, waiting for the unimaginable pain that heralded your impending death. You could have been put on 173 duty, having to rely on two other strangers in order to survive cleaning the mess that thing in there- you’d done it before and you never wanted to do that again. You took a breath to choke back the fear, only to have it knocked out of you as the butt of a rifle struck you between the shoulders, forcing you to stumble through the door as it slid open.

“If you turn around, you will be shot,” Says the gruff voice behind you. “Get in there, now.”

You wanted to give the man a nasty look as the door closed behind you, if you weren’t expecting your painful, bloody death. Your eyes were closed, still cringing from the developing bruise in your back as you hissed through your teeth, though you forced yourself to look up, deciding you wanted to at least see what was going to kill you, only to find four pairs of eyes from four different, humanlike individuals looking back at you- four very tall individuals, three of them male, and one female. One of the males, who was pale as a corpse and wore a skull-like mask, had a shaggy, mangy looking crow on his shoulder, that stared at you curiously with its beady little eyes, almost like it was judging whether or not you were a threat, much like the other individuals were doing as they watched you straighten up and press yourself against the door.

“A human?” One of the males piped up, this one wearing a silver helmet that only showed two amber eyes that looked you up and down, from your orange jumpsuit to the white sneakers to the dark circles under your eyes. He glanced to the others in the room, the fluorescent light glinting off the silver plated armour he wore. “Didn’t they say they were gonna send someone to talk to us?” Amazingly, their English was perfect, and the others responded in similarly perfect English.

It was the skull-masked male who spoke next, his wiry frame hunched in the way he sat, his eyes like smouldering embers. “No weapons,” He observed with a voice like a rattling sigh, a last word on a dying breath, and he glanced briefly to the panel of one-way glass before he spoke again. “What is your name, Human?” He almost sounded as if he was bored. You had taken a breath to reply, when the voice of one of the scientists gave you a warning over the P.A system.

“D-091337, you are not authorised to speak.” You froze, pressing yourself further against the door. “You are unauthorised to interact beyond the instructions we give you.”

The female, her dark lips pulled in a scowl, glared at the one-way glass with eyes like glowing moonstones. Despite the feeling of danger emanating off of her, she was beautiful, her olive skin smooth and unblemished, hair the colour of wine floating freely behind her. “They can talk when they decide to talk to us themselves,” She growled, the armour she wore clanking together as she shifted in her place leaning against the wall by the third male, a man built like a mountain who wore a red cloak around his shoulders- you couldn’t see his face past the massive pauldron on his shoulder. “I think we’ll decide who’s ‘worthy’. Now, answer my brother’s question.”

Well. The scientists wouldn’t like that. At first, it was hard to speak. You tried to say the first syllable, but your voice won't come because of your shock at what happened. Their eyes were all on you now. Eventually, you managed to croak it out, audible enough for them to hear. "(Y/N)...it's (Y/N)."

The skull-masked male nodded slowly. “Why have they sent you, Y/N?”

"I don't know." Your voice still croaked with nervousness and trembled as badly as your knees were. You'd seen other D-Class like you getting thrown to these monsters, and though you knew that some of them weren't bad, you knew that Keter classification sign outside the cell meant bad news. "Maybe to see if you'll turn my brain into mush, or eat me alive."

They all blink at you, then look at the one-way glass, then to each other, almost as if asking the same question. Finally, the helmeted male looked back at you, his voice sounding slightly disturbed at the suggestion. “Why would we do that?” He asked. “We said we weren’t here to kill any humans.”

"It's what these people do," You tell him. "They feed regular folks like us to monsters for their 'experiments'. Just to see what happens."

The skull-masked male hummed thoughtfully, pressing a hand to the one-way glass and pushing slightly to test how solid it was- you took some pleasure in imagining the scientists and soldiers shitting themselves at the sight. “Do they really think this is going to hold us?” He wasn’t really asking you, but you answered anyway.

"They say that you guys are Keter class. I think that means they think you're here to kill people." Usually the scientists said these things, and you swallowed a nervous lump in your throat as you mustered up the courage to ask, "...If you're not here to hurt humans, what are you here for?"

The female gave a derisive snort, the helmeted male choosing to answer instead. "We're just here for the monsters. Tall dark and sulky over there--" He jerked his chin in the direction of the other male with the skull mask. "He told us not to hurt anyone when we turned up to get the job done." The remark was met with a glance from the masked male, but not much else. Not much of a talker, you noted as you looked between them all, shuffling your feet awkwardly- they didn't seem like they were as much of a threat as the red sign outside the cell had made them out to be, if what they said was true. Maybe...

"D-091337. You are to leave the cell immediately. We're going to get someone to interview the subjects."

You jumped as the voice came over the P.A system, followed by the sound of heavy boots behind the door. You figured that meant they'd throw you back in your own cell and send in one of the scientists, but the skull-masked male stepped around you first and pushed you back with a large hand that paled against the bright orange of your jumpsuit as the door opened, causing the crow to squawk and flutter away, landing on your shoulder. The female dragged you further back by your arm, looking like she was ready to rip apart the guards as they levelled their rifles, but the skull-masked male was very calm.

"There's no need for those." He set his hand on the muzzle of one of the rifles and gently lowered it. "We've already made it clear that we're not here for you or your Foundation."

The guard shook his rifle away from under his hand, then raised it again. "Standard procedure," He remarked gruffly, then looked to you. "If you don't get over here now, we will shoot you."

The female didn't seem to like that, putting you behind her and reaching for something on her hip. The other two males looked ready to fight as well, slowly rising to their feet. "We'd prefer there be minimal conflict," The skull-masked male explained slowly, looking directly at the guard who had spoken. "We were in the middle of a conversation. It would be rude to shoot our guest."

"Not like you'd get a shot in anyway," The helmeted male added, and you swore you could sense a smirk behind the metal. "Fury's good with that whip, and your run of the mill bullets don't exactly work on us." That made the guards wary, a few of them looking between themselves as if reevaluating the situation. "Also," The helmeted male pulled a pistol, seemingly from out of nowhere, and held it up for the guards to see. "I'm a much better shot." You turned your eyes away from the door to look at the pistol, ornately engraved with beautiful spiralling patterns along the barrel.

Tension hangs heavy in the air, so thick you swear that the cliché of being able to cut it with a knife might actually be able to be proven if you tried. Eventually, one of the guard turns his head, one hand to his ear, and it takes a long moment before he motions to his fellows to stand down. “They’re sending in a researcher. The D-Class can stay.”

The helmeted male chuckled as the guards filed out and the door shut again, and he holstered the pistol. “Wise choice.” His eyes glance back at you. “You good?”

“Yeah.” You glanced at the door, then at the helmeted male. “Thanks.”

“What did they mean, ‘D-Class’?” Asked the skull-masked male as he turned to look at you, the crow fluttering off your shoulder and back onto his.

“It’s what they call us.” You shrugged and gave him a lopsided smile. “D-Class, D-Boys, the Disposables. Some of us are criminals, some are just folks down on their luck who were promised a hefty paycheck if they survive the month.”

“Criminals?” The helmeted male cocked his head. “What’d you do?”

You held up your hands defensively. “Nothing! I needed money!”

The tall individuals all look between each other again, their faces sharing an equal measure of concern, and you wish you could say you hated it. You’d never really known the things they kept here to care about humans, so why did they, when they were the dangerous ones? It almost seemed like an insult.

Eventually, it was the skull-masked male who spoke. “And all you have to do is...survive?” He asked, looking down at you with a gaze that made it seem that he was thinking about something.

“Well...yeah. I don’t think they’ll let me remember what I saw, though...” You sighed. “They...have ways of making people forget. And maybe that’s good. There’s nothing but nightmares down here.”

[dboliklover]

Tainting the Angel so That She Falls - Subaru 

Existence had always been unkind to you, as a Nephilim.

A child of both worlds.

An abomination.

You never really ‘belonged’ anywhere, born too sinful to join the angelic ranks, too holy and powerful to live amongst the human children.

Your mother had tried her best to raise you and keep your parentage a secret from the other village folks - she tried to ensure you had a safe upbringing, but it was not meant to be. You were too strange to fit in with the other children, and it showed.

Eventually, your mother even gave her life to protect you from the villagers’ harmful intent, believing you to be a demonic child, not an angelic one. Then again, to them, there would be little difference. You were dangerous in their eyes because you were a mystical being unknown to them.

And they feared that which they did not know.

So you ran. You ran far and tried to find your place in the world, though it was tremendously difficult and the road was ever-weary.

It was a tremendously painful life, full of challenges to just stay alive - never belonging anywhere. Through the centuries you adapted from one place to another, from era to era, keeping mostly to yourself because you knew no matter how hard you tried, that you’d never be accepted by the humans.

And that was when you met him.

He was a vampire. You didn’t sense that at first - only the vague sense of solidarity between yourselves. From the very first moment you met him, you felt connected to him.

You were both still children. You’d been older by a century or two - but by immortal standards, this was nothing; and though your innocence was gone due to era after era of horrible treatment and observing the sins of humanity, your body had yet to mature.  Immortals aged far slower.

His own innocence was almost gone, when you met him.

He was a sweet boy. Your meeting had been an accident - you were in a forest when you saw him - he was picking wild roses and flowers, when you stepped on a branch and accidentally made yourself known. He hissed, thinking you an enemy, only to raise his eyebrow in surprise when he saw a weak-looking, starved girl show herself to him.

Feebly, you introduced yourself as simply “(Y/N)”.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Subaru allowed you to pick the flowers with him and explained they were for his mother; he wished to do something nice for her that would make her smile - “she’s been unhappy a lot, lately.” He told you, that day.

Once the sun began to go down, you stood, wishing him and his mother well, turning to walk back into the woods. You had the sweetest little hut you had found in the woods back about a decade or so, it was small and quaint and well-hidden, and thus ideal for you. Perhaps, it was cold, and winters were harsh, but you loved your small hut for one.

From the moment of your fateful meeting onwards, you and Subaru spent more time together. He’d come to visit you, especially when he had terrible days, and you let him see your hut.

For a little while, everything was good. Your life, always so chaotic, was...good, and you were truly happy for the first time in forever.  

Seasons changed just as they did each year, but for the first time, you noticed the beauty in everything. The rusty autumn leaves, the frosty spiderwebs, the spring daises, the sun-encased trees.

And, as time passed, you and Subaru only became closer. Childhood sweethearts; not-quite-lovers. Simply two young souls who adored each other, who understood each other, who felt a bond. The type of relationship that is filled with “almost”.

Almost kisses, almost lovers, almost romance, almost eternal;

Until, one day, he stopped visiting you.

You had no idea why - you tried to find out, to go to him, but you did not know where his house was. For all you knew, someone or something might’ve killed your best friend in cold hands.

You stayed up all day and night for weeks on end hoping he would come, searching your forest high and low, but there was no sign of him.

Dejected, you had to accept the outcome that either he was now dead, or, the dreadful outcome; he was tired and bored of you.

It also turned out that one of the nearby villagers had seen you, and they gathered to expel you from your hut. Unfortunately for you, the village nearest to the forest had been overflowing with superstitious fools who, as all humans did, chased you out with flames and curses.

Years and decades blended together undistinguishedly, and now you were sitting on a church rooftop, petite but glorious wings on your back, loosely relaxed. You’d been accepted, at long last, by the angelic order.

You still had no idea why they allowed you into their order - you, who they viewed as a disgusting being for so long - but you were glad because at long last you finally ‘belonged’.

Except you didn’t really feel as if you did. Being one of them was great - what you’d dreamt of since you were a child, but now you found it so...devoid of joy.

Subaru still crossed your mind, more often than he ought to. You wished you had more time with him, but Fate was a cruel mistress. Whatever happened to him in the end, you could only hope it brought him peace, even if it was death.

The card that Fate threw at you, however, mere months later was as unexpected as could be.

Walking down the streets, wearing a charm that concealed you from human eyes, you tried to locate your new human charge - they were going to let you observe humans and assist some guardian angels to train yourself to someday become one, too.

It was there where you saw him, but you could not believe your eyes - it was a hallucination, it must be.

You stood across from one another in the street, baffled, until Subaru was approached by what you could only assume were his brothers and a sweet-looking blonde girl, pulling him away from staring at the girl across the street.

He looked...good. Shaking yourself out of that state, you turned and continued walking to your destination, trying to focus on the task at hand. Subaru was your past.

Being an angel...this was your future.

It was your future...but you felt drawn towards him, you always were.

The next time you saw him, it was months later. You spent those months working and sucking up to make yourself seem worthy of your lowly angelic ranking - they had a change of heart and allowed you to join them in the first place, you weren’t about to be lazy and make them think they made a regrettable choice.

As one who never fit anywhere, this was going to be as good as it got for you. Humanity was overrated, so at least you had that in common with quite a large portion of some more...spiteful angels.

This time, you had a different kind of task. Your tasks as a pupil for being a future guardian was going well, but they wanted to test your abilities to protect your charges from evil beings, and thus you were given the responsibility to ‘take care’ of some small negative influences - nothing extreme, you were always going to be a Nephilim, and thus weaker than a full-on angel when it came to powers. You had to get rid of some slightly-negative spirits, helping them pass over to the other side. Not the easiest job, but not dangerous, either.

It was during this time that Subaru approached you, breathless, just as you watched a spirit fade into the light, feeling you with warmth. Subaru had watched you in the shadows as you gently explained to the ghost that they were dead and that their confusion was valid, but they needed to let go. It was beautiful.

“(Y/N).”

You gasped, turning around and staring at him, fighting against your immediate instinct to run into his arms and hug him as you cried. He was your past, now, not your future.

“Subaru…”

The awkward tension was endless. What could he possibly say to you? What could you possibly say to him?

“I…” he paused, gulping, ashamed. He had never gone back to visit you, never said goodbye, and the shame from that was hitting him - hard. He’d abandoned you like he feared to be abandoned.

He did to you, what he feared would be done to him. There was no amount of apologies that could ever atone for that.

When he did go back, months later, your small cottage had been burnt to the ground, as with the woodland closest to it. He recalled how much he wept, thinking you dead.

And now here you were and with wings this time around.

“You’re an angel now,”

“-Yes.” your responses were curt and simple - you couldn’t be mixed up with him anymore. If someone saw you...well, you would risk falling and that would be worse than if you remained half-way between two worlds.

Subaru cursed himself into infinity, throat and chest feeling too tight - he couldn’t breathe.

“I must go,” You stated, taking him off-guard, and left.

And just like the first time he lost you, you took his heart with you.

He couldn’t sleep for weeks on end, dreams of you haunting him, regret overcoming him. He needed to find you - to explain himself - to, perhaps, make things right if at all possible.

Subaru knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. You’d always been too soft, too sweet, too loving for him. But he had to try.

A monster he may be, but he’d be damned if he didn’t even try to atone.

Finding you was harder than he thought, however, since you were evading him - when he got sight of you, you would see him and hurry away.

It frustrated him to no end.

You tried your hardest to be strong, to stay away from him. Your heart longed for him for so long, but you couldn’t allow yourself to be seen with him, to fraternize with him.

Except you were weak, and after the nth time of seeing him and his dejected face, you sighed and went down to him, allowing him to talk.

He then, badly, attempted to redeem himself - explain himself - in front of you, stuttering over every other word as his emotions overwhelmed him and made him want to punch the nearest wall, and he did. His sudden affinity for violence shocked you and made you flinch, caused pain to strike through his unbeating heart.

You were scared of him, now, because he couldn’t control his forsaken temper!

But you, foolishly, agreed to forgive him - and from then on, though you didn’t particularly go out of your way to see him, if you happened to then you were just as kind and sweet as ever.

He missed you so badly, he hadn’t even realised how much until now.

And he wanted you to be with him - like you always should’ve been - but you were on the angels’ side now, and he knew better than to try and ruin something so beautiful for you.

So, when you had a fallout with some upper angels, and realised how miserable you were, you went to find him just to lament your fate - he was the only person  you could go to in this situation, and you just hoped he wouldn’t mind your ranting.

He understood, then, that you still felt like you did not belong even with the angels.

But he dared not suggest anything else -  anything about you stepping away from that Holy Order.

And, when you were discovered, he knew he had to do something right by you, for once, and tried to place all the blame on himself; he tempted you - and all those bullshit ‘unholy’ acts - to frame himself as the sinner, which he was, in this case. You, however, were having none of it.

Even if you hadn’t announced that you were fine with falling, you would’ve fallen regardless; an angel was meant to be incorruptible, which you clearly weren’t in their eyes.

But the fact he still tried warmed your heart, and you appreciated it oh-so-deeply.

Gods, you loved him - oh God. You loved him. Though you supposed it had always been that way.

And...if falling was what it took to be with him - to be allowed to be with him - then so be it. Because by his side, and only by his side, did you feel like you belonged.

- Mod Rozalia 

[crystal-snowing]

worthy | kim namjoon

summary: no matter what everyone else thought, kim namjoon always knew that you were the one for him.

genre: angst/fluff

a/n: sorry, i haven’t posted in so long !

You have always questioned whether it was possible to be both intelligent and popular in high school, and it seemed that Kim Namjoon was the living answer to your question. Hands down he was one of the most attractive guys in the school, with light brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, and toned body were enough to swoon a majority of the students at the school—both male and female. As if that wasn’t enough, his grade point average was through the roof that it seemed impossible for someone who was that intelligent to even be going to your school. While, BigHit Academy was not necessarily a public school, it was not exactly a private school either. You would assume that private schools would hold their students to higher standards, and yet you have so many classmates that you could use as examples for where the Academy went wrong. But he wasn’t like any of them, instead, he was the epitome of a model student. His grades were stellar, but on top of that he managed to be class president, president of three other clubs at the school, captain of the volleyball and swimming team, and still managed to do some other volunteering work on the side. He was the one that every parent wanted their child to be like, the beautifully perfect high school senior.

In short—Kim Namjoon was both a heartthrob and genius, and your crush for the last four years of high school.

You had transferred from to BigHit Academy in your sophomore year, your parents somehow managing to scrape together enough money in order to afford your tuition for the first year. By no means were you as wealthy as any of the students here, nor did you have the intelligence to pass the exam needed for a scholarship—instead, you were merely a child from a struggling family who wanted to see their son/daughter become something of themselves. They did the best that they could, splurging a bit on makeup or accessories to help you blend in with the rest of the ultra-rich students that attended that school, even buying you a brand new jacket to help keep you warm in the winter.

Upon arriving at the school, you immediately knew that you stuck out like a sore thumb. There was something in the way that everyone in the school seemed to carry themselves, a trait that you, as a new student, were not accustomed to yet. Of course, the school system is not allowed to disclose the financial information or socioeconomic background, but like every school, word somehow always ends up leaking out. That’s when the rumors started. The whispers as you walked quickly down the hall, the sea of students parting as they stood against the lockers and walls—their mouths moving a mile a minute, watching you with their piercing gazes—they were the vultures and you were the prey. And the torment only seemed to escalate from there, for once they stopped being afraid of attacking, did their abuse become incessant. You never could go anywhere inside the school without having an insult or two directed your way, each becoming more vicious than the last. They tormented you for everything, from the fact that your parents were poor, the fact that your grades were poor, your makeup, your appearance, your uniform—absolutely nothing was safe from their scrutiny.

There were times where you often loathed your parents, the people who did their best for you every day in order to send you to that elite school. But during your first year at BigHit Academy you would get into so many fights with them, which stemmed from your “lack of effort in school” and your poor grades, which soon escalated into you ranting about how you never asked to be sent to that school and how you were perfectly happy and fine back in your town’s dingy and under-funded high school. In the end, you always regretted lashing out at them, they have done nothing but support you from day one and this was no way of showing your gratitude.

Which was why, as soon as school was released for the summer, you vowed that you would become a better person, not only for yourself but for your parents as well. On top of maintaining a job at a local cafe, you did your best to study—SATs, ACTs, and APs were constant deadlines that loomed over you, and not only were you determined to pass them (that was simply not enough anymore) you were determined to ace them. And through all of this hard work, you developed a new attitude—a new outlook on life and on yourself. At this point you gave zero fucks to whatever rumors and attitudes other students had towards you at school, all you cared about from now on was making your parents proud, making sure that their hard work was not in vain.

And as you marched into the front doors of your high school, you and everyone around you knew that you were not same person from sophomore year.

Visually there was something about you that changed, perhaps it was the effects of puberty taking effect on your body, as you grew a bit taller and your skin cleared up a bit from last year, or maybe it was the way that you carried yourself—strong, confident, and with a resting stoic expression.  No longer were you at the end of all their jokes and bullying, no, this year you were flourishing—and you made sure that everyone at that damn school knew it as well. You implemented small changes here and there, such as raising your hand and participating in class, joining extracurriculars and clubs, as well as making sure the teacher announced your name every time you received the highest grade in the class. Slowly but surely, you began digging yourself out of the grave that you dug yourself last year, raising your rank from one of the worst in school, to be second best—but even then, that still wasn’t good enough for you.

No, you wanted to be number one, and you were determined to get the spot no matter the cost. But, there was only one thing (or rather person) standing in your way, and his name was Kim Namjoon.

Oh boy, did you have a lot to say about him, but there were only two main points that you needed to address: one, that you might have a massive crush on him and two, that he absolutely despised you. Those two statements were quite an odd combination together, but in your defense you have admired Kim Namjoon ever since the two of you were in middle school and your friend dragged you to the championship volleyball game for the school—the same game that he managed to score the winning spike that the team needed to win the state championship. You were not petty, not only did you like him for his looks and athletic ability, but everything about him just seemed to attract you like a magnet. The two of you have talked a bit with each other, but most of the time you could distinctly remember him inside the school library—long after the rest of the school had closed down for day—hunched over a mountain of textbooks as he printed in his neat handwriting across the pages. You were not sure what it as about this that drew you in, perhaps it was the way the light from the adjacent windows fall on him, or the peaceful look that was displayed across his soft features, or maybe it was the way he stuck his tongue out just a bit as he concentrated on his work.

Whatever it was, you knew that you were whipped for Kim Namjoon, but the only problem was the fact that the two of you lived completely different lifestyles. He was flawless to say the least, perfect grades, perfect face, perfect body—perfect life, which contrasted so sharply from your own. It would be kind of embarrassing for him if anyone found out that you had a crush on him, after all you were a nothing more than a simpleton in comparison to his god-like persona. Even worse, if word got out, not only would it ruin your life, but also his, after all, nobody wants a loser to be crushing on them. This was why you were determined to be best the version of yourself, not only so you could fulfill your parents’ desires of becoming successful in life, but also somehow make yourself worthy of being liked by the one and only Kim Namjoon.

By the time senior year rolled around, you didn’t need to work any harder in order for Kim Namjoon to recognize you—he knew exactly who you were. His closest friends practically knew everything about you, and in all honesty were sick of hearing your name, since everyday at lunch he would practically slam his textbooks down on the table and proceed to rant about how much he absolutely despised you. It was practically beneath him to be fighting for the number one spot in the school against you, and it appalled him to think that you even stood a good chance at beating him in certain subjects. No matter how much Kim Namjoon radiated perfection, he was only human and prone to making mistakes, and this will inevitably cost him the number one spot—a place that you wouldn't mind greedily taking from him. He hated you, despised you—or at least that’s what he told himself, when in reality he couldn't actually bring himself to actually genuinely feel those types of feelings for you. In fact, he remembers you, from before puberty hit you like a fucking freight train, before when you were just ordinary [Y/N] [L/N], someone that he couldn't help but admire from afar.

It was hilarious and if anyone could have seen him back then, they would be hysterical, the Kim Namjoon, afraid and embarrassed to ask someone out—surely that would be the day. And yet everyday you were near he couldn't bring himself to approach you, and deep down he had to admit to himself that he was a coward. He knew about the abuse that you faced day in and day out by your peers, and even a couple of instances where he saw the instances taking place, yet he couldn't force his feet to move as he was rooted to the ground and forced to watch those atrocities unfold in front of him. He always thought you were beautiful, and the insults that were being thrown your way would never diminish that, in fact  he liked to believe that it actually made you even more breathtaking. But, the two of you were two completely different people, and while you may have your own ambitions and goals, he would couldn’t just sit idly by and let you—his pride was too grandiose to allow that to happen.

“Are you just going to keep staring at me all day, or are we actually going to finish this project?” you huffed, your arms crossed against your chest as you shot him a glare.

Which explains his current situation, sitting across you inside of a random cafe as you both discussed the details of your upcoming project together. It had to be his luck that out of the students in his AP Literature class that he had to end up with you as a partner, and the teacher must have truly despised him—since even after all of his pleading for her to change partners, she simply refused his request. She cited the idea this was a match made in heaven and that it would be idiotic to breakup her two best students for this project.

Namjoon merely scoffed, rolling his eyes at your childish behavior, before pulling out his laptop and pushing aside his lukewarm cup of coffee towards the side of the table, before placing his laptop down and opening it.

“You wish, the sooner we get this project over with the better. Now what were you saying about the development Winston Smith’s character?

The second time that you both met the animosity and tension in the air was still at an all time high. This time you both met at the school's library, sitting across from each other which your belongings barely even touching. Talking was kept to a minimum, the two of you too focused on looking preoccupied so that the other would not ask any questions or attempt to make small talk. Ideally, it wasn't the best situation but neither of you were willing to be the bigger person and but all of these negative feelings behind you. Instead you both wanted to play the blame game, shifting it on one another for causing this pent up tension to build, yet you knew it was no one else's fault besides your own.

He told himself that he was merely being practical, after all, how was it possible for anyone to get work done in this type of environment, by pushing aside your things and sitting right next to you, he assumed that this would improve the productivity level between the two of you—after all, the sooner you both finished this project, the better. Yet he never anticipated that something would snap between the two of you, sure, there was banter before—this sort of playful (with harsh undertones) kind of conversation, turned into something more. It took him a while to pinpoint this behavior, a couple more sessions of his leg pressing against yours inside the cafe, or his hand accidentally brushing yours as he reached to grab a paper across the table. The feeling was profound, changing the entire atmosphere around the both of you, and he almost got the feeling that this banter that the two of you exchanged was almost like flirting.

“I get it I’m attractive and all, but I think that presentation needs your attention more than I do,” Namjoon smirked, raising an eyebrow, while you merely scoffed.

“As if I would ever need your attention, I think that coffee must be getting to you because you’re sounding a bit more conceited than usual.”

“Me, conceited? Have you ever heard the things that you say, I swear [F/N] you sure a piece of work.”

“You’re so lucky that I have so much self-control right now, or you would have been slapped a long time ago, Namjoon.”

For the next couple weeks, almost three times a week the two you sat inside the back of the local cafe bickering like an old married couple. And every one of those days for him was insufferable, as kept fighting and retraining himself from wanting to kick you for being so damn annoying. This was the same mantra that he has been telling himself for those couple of weeks, until he came in one day and damn did you piss him off even more than usual that day. It all started after he received his AP Calculus test back learning that he once again lost to you, only scoring the second highest score, and everything seemed to just spiral down from there. During practice, the younger kids had the audacity disrespect him—causing him to become angry and lash out at them. Due to this, he ran late, causing him to become trapped in the rain on his way here and now forcing him to sit here at a table, next to you, while he is soaking wet.

Then when you started bickering with him—he almost lost it. Yet, he knew that he couldn’t say anything without sounding extremely rude and inconsiderate, so he held his tongue. Perhaps it was his exhaustion wearing down on him after a long and stressful day or maybe his need to focus on something in order to keep himself awake through your long explanation of the symbolic references in 1984, but he couldn’t help but notice how adorably kissable your lips looked. The softness of your cupid’s bow, as it softly accentuated the plumpness and fullness of your lips, and he was so close that you that perhaps if he leaned in a bit closer he could almost—

“Are you okay, you look a little flushed?”

Your question snapped him from his thoughts, his eyes soon focusing on your perplexed expression, causing him to jump back in surprise with his chair scraping against the floors of the cafe. His reaction caused you to laugh, the sound tickling his ears and causing his face to feel a bit warm. Those thoughts were invasive, infiltrating his head during completely unnecessary times, and placing him in an awkward position.

Composing himself, he moved his chair closer towards you, laning in until his face was a few centimeters away from yours.

“I’m fine, why are you worried for me? Am I growing on you?”

“No, of course not,” you rolled your eyes before pushing him away from you, “I just don’t need you spreading your bacteria to me, now scoot over a bit, I need some distance between me and your infected ass.”

It wasn’t until much later did he finally reflect on what those possible lingering thoughts could mean, and it was only after hours of endless thinking and pondering did the realization finally dawn on him—my god, he liked you. He liked the way you looked deep in concentration with your tongue peeking slightly through your lips, he liked the way you looked in the sunlight as it radiated off your skin making you look as if you were sparkling, he liked your expression after you finished sassing him, with one of your eyebrows raised, enticing him, egging him on—damn, he was in love with you. He wasn’t sure how it happened, the Kim Namjoon who supposedly everyone in the school had a crush on finally found one person that he felt completed him, and while he was usually calculated about everything that he does, his decision to tell you the next time he saw you was quite impulsive and uncharacteristic of him.

It was day before the project was due, the two of you sitting in that same cafe, you with your tea with cream and sugar sitting next you, while his Americano was left untouched in the corner of the table as you placed finishing touches on the poster aspect of this project while he worked on the powerpoint. Of course, he was barely paying attention to typing, too focused on watching you—some of your hair falling in front of your eyes, as he had the urge to push it out of the way and tuck that strand of hair behind your ear. After feeling his gaze, you looked up and were surprised to find his eyes still not looking away from your face. Already you could feel your neck heating up, as the warmth began to climb up towards your face.

“Look, this is our last day together and if you’re not going to get any work done then you might as well—”

“Go out with me.”

Your lips were parted like a fish, gapping at him as you struggled to comprehend exactly what he said. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some kind of sick and impractical joke, yet as you glanced at his eyes, you could see nothing but sincerity and seriousness engulfing his irises. There was one word that you wanted to scream at him, and you wanted to say it to him over and over again, yet it died in the back of your throat where it belonged. You needed to be practical, and you knew that dating him was perhaps the opposite of that, as you had iterated before, both you and Kim Namjoon lead two completely different lives and two of you would never work out because of this. So you did what you did best—ignore him.

“That’s cute, anyways, I forgot that my parents wanted me home early for dinner tonight, so if that’s all,” you stood up quickly, gathering your belongings as quickly as possible. You knew you needed to get out of there as fast as your legs could carry you, but as you turned your back to him, he grabbed onto your wrist sharply before you could leave.

“Seriously that’s all you have to say to me? I’m giving you my whole heart and all you could say is that’s cute are you kidding me? I want to be with you, [Y/N] not for any other reason than because you make my heart skip whenever your close to me, because my palms get sweaty whenever you’re around, because I want to see you everyday with that breathtaking smile on your face. I don’t care what anyone says about us, if that’s what you’re worried about, they can make up all the rumors and pretend to pass judgement on us, but they don’t know anything,” Namjoon sighed, his hand still holding onto yours.

You couldn’t ignore the hammering of your heart, his loving words leaving you with a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Even though you wanted to ignore and deny everything that he said, you knew that his words had weight. He was everything that you wanted and more, and you knew denying this chance would be something that you would regret for the rest of your life—and your done feeling regretful and sorry for yourself.

And you took the plunge.

“One date and we’ll take it from there,” you muttered shyly, the blush back in full force as you watched his face light up by your statement.

Maybe, no matter what anyone thought, you were more than enough for him.

[wclkcr-blog]

[ icarly theme playing in bg ] in five, four, three, two.. it’s ya local trashbag also known as rach. i’m twenty years old n from lil old ireland meaning this bitch is in the gmt+1 timezone. can we take a sec to ?? w0w @@ the fact that all you wonderful humans joined our lil group i’m still ?? heart eyes @ you all tbh. anywhoot, below the cut you can find some info about my smol angsty child — so if you REALLY want to, feel free to read that !! i also made up a little possible plots/connections page that can be found right HERE.  so if you would like to be spammed with endless headcanons, playlists and probably my trash ass tagging you in posts  — slide into those goddamn dms n lets get our plot on. 

( CARLSON YOUNG, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) SPOTTED — QUINN WALKER just pulled up in their ferrari 430 scuderia. though they’re only TWENTY-ONE their net worth is 255M, which causes the trust fund baby to be +BEGUILING but also quite -TEMPESTUOUS. the tabloids always refer to them as the MANNEQUIN but watch out because behind each person there’s a dirty little secret: HIDDEN.

quinn, impersonating halsey, at some point, probably: do u call urself a fken hurricane lyk me

one time someone compared quinn to ( the iconic ) blair waldorf and i actually shed a tear --- there’s a snapchat with proof if u don’t belieb me.

the walkers ?? they probably sleep on hundred dollar bills at night, they are extra™.

quinny here was born && raised in the hills, her parents have been living in the same, lavish mansion hidden away in the gated community since long before her birth. 

her father ?? a top notch lawyer. before the birth of his children and into the early days of his marriage, he worked one of the biggest cases in beverly hills and with his success with the client involved came many, many more desperate, high-paying clients. eventually, alexander walker was able to open his own law firm without hesitation or concern. 

he’s also been known to invest money in several estates across the expanse of the hills --- simply because he can, because money ?? he has no shortage of it and tbh, the cocky bastard is convinced it’ll remain that way.

on the other hand, her mother, maria  was an ex-pageant queen. her perfect figure, bright blonde hair, sculpted face && overall beauty was what first drew alexander in. merely months after dating, he proposed. it’s safe to say that both maria and alexander are aware there isn’t a lot of love between them both, but what matters most is he has money she can spend and she makes him look good. 

with that, it’s rather obvious that the walkers know a thing or two about image and perception, the pressure to remain poised and perfect at all costs.

quinn, as spoiled as she may come across, as much as it SEEMS she has everything — could be seen as almost the black sheep of the family; almost entirely irrelevant. 

her elder brother was always the more adored of the siblings, after all he would be the one to carry on his fathers legacy, to continue the walker name with pride. 

saying this, quinn wasn’t entirely ‘ignored’ so to speak — daddy dearest would buy her anything at the snap of a fingers, which of course is always fun.. at least for a little while until you come to the conclusion that your love is being bought. 

however, her father wasn’t the one quinn wanted to impress; honestly all she wanted was a bond with her mother, to have a close mother-daughter connection. she was desperate for her mothers approval, attention, but that was always hard to get when at times her mom wouldn’t give her the time of day. 

however, maria finally noticed what her daughter was doing one day, the lengths she was going to in order to gain her attention and since then it’s almost been a test --- maria constantly pushes quinn to see just how far she’s willing to go, using her own daughter as a tool in little battles. her father is having a hard time swooning a certain possible investor ?? all maria has to do is drop a comment of ‘i wish we had some way of persuading him’ and quinn is running to her command, doing her dirty work. 

i can’t rly get into how bad this whole thing between her and her mom is, and the extremest level it’s been pushed too bc that would reveal her secret so 0:) 

but, lets just say that quinn is very, very, v e r y insecure --- underneath her facade of ‘i’m the hottest shit’ she’s actually extremely insecure of her physical appearance. like, she can very easily flick her hair n be like .... ya i the hottest bitch, but when it comes down to it she genuinely doesn’t think she’s all that attractive at all. 

it seems that neither of her remaining family members seem to care, or have the time to even notice the damage that mrs. walker is doing to her; too busy working on their own image and desires to realise that as they live and breath, quinn is crumbling to pieces and tearing herself apart to fit into the ridiculous standards her mother sets upon her, running around doing her dirty work without hesitation.

whats more of a mess, me ?? this intro ?? or quinn herself ?? who knows. to sum quinn up she’s 5′1 of fiery angst — she will fight you or at least attempt to if you get on her nerves. her label is the mannequin although she could easily fall under the facade either as from the outside she appears to be this bitchy, picture-perfect, pulled from a fucking teen drama movie rich girl, but she’s actually really fucked up inside ?? she’s never experienced genuine love from anyone her family included and therefore believes she’s not worthy of it nor would she know what to do with it if she got it. basically, all her outward actions are an act. ‘cause i feel like i'm the worst, so i always act like i'm the best’ if that doesn’t sum quinn up in a damn quote ?? idk what does. 

[pravasiga]

July 3, 2017 - Torschlusspanik: Quarter Life Crisis

Torschlusspanik: (n.) (origin: German). The literal translation is ‘gate-shut-panic’. The fear of diminishing opportunities as one ages. The fear that you are running out of time to pursue the things you love.

I believe in self-reflection; I believe in being a little cheesy about the things you love. I believe in all of those things and I believe in taking the time to write extravagantly long blog-posts about your feelings because life moves fast and my most human moments are the most vulnerable to being swept away in the tide.

Before I came to India, I was facing my 23974875th pre-med existential crisis, and told my mother that I didn’t think I was going to make it to med school after all, after a night too deep on the internet that somehow led me to checking too many med school admission statistics (let me be, it was 5 in the morning). Plagued with self-doubt that had been building dangerously in the last two years, I promised myself that I would take my work seriously this summer but also, that I had to take my worries seriously. I told myself that I had to evaluate what I really wanted out of life and what I was willing to do to get there. Here’s the really cheesy and a hella long synopsis of the messy road that led here and the things I’ve seen while at VMH-Kenchanahalli, that have only thrown more fuel in the fire that is trying to figure out life.

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Ever since I was a child, I've always wanted to chase the world and to experience everything that it offered. I remember excitedly describing my life plans to my parents ever since I was able to talk, bouncing in the backseat of our minivan and expressing all the enthusiasm my little toddler body could handle at the time. I was blessed to have a family who supported and encouraged me to grow in my passions. The story goes that I once saw a grand piano being played in a store and was so captivated by it that I told my parents on the way home that I was going to learn how to play it and play masterpieces one day. I remember faint echoes of my very first piano lessons, where my small fingers still struggled to make it from the C key to the G key on time. I never could hold my hands in the correct positions (‘Imagine you’re holding an egg in your palm!’). When I would spend hours drawing and coloring, my parents made sure to save some of my better work, which includes a storyboard of several pages (40 pages? I have no idea anymore), detailing a dream family vacation, paper clipped together and rolled up.

I always had an eye in the future. From a young age, I knew that to get where I wanted to be with all my passions, I had to plan, I had to work. I was determined to make my way the best I could. But like most children, my plans kept changing. The first thing I ever wanted to be in life, was, shockingly, a chemist. That was back before I was introduced to Organic Chemistry, which has effectively made me hate all chemistry, because I thought a chemist’s job was just to combined lots of colored liquids and make explosions. I liked that it was a colorful job and that I would be creating things. I hit my princess stage around the age of 5 and dove into my dreams of becoming a princess dress designer, filling pages with drawings of beautiful ball gowns and dresses. I dove in and out of a whole slew of other dream professions – between pursuing natural history, to archaeologist, to a brief interest in medicine, to refusing to go into medicine, and then my architect phase. My favorite story from the year or so where I wanted to be an architect is how I stopped wanting to be an architect because I kept spelling it wrong in all of my assignments and couldn’t remember how many H’s there really were in the word so I started lying and saying easier to spell things. That, and my father told me that if I didn’t do the math correctly, I’d probably end up making a shitty building. (I have since been told that this is the structural engineer’s job instead). Even back then, if you told me that it involved math, I would stay the hell away. Some things, no matter how long it’s been, don’t change.

I hit my lawyer phase until I remembered that I absolutely hate confrontation and arguing with people, much less in front of a court. I entered a three-year period where I was determined to go into art school or into creative writing and where I was obsessed with writing and becoming an author (though now I read my old material and cringe so deeply, I get a neck cramp). However, as it has been for the last five years of my life, everything changed in sophomore year of high school.

I always tell people that Science Olympiad changed my life because it took a young girl who adamantly refused to go into medicine, and threw her headfirst into loving it. To recap my four fanatical years as the team’s resident neuroscience and anatomy nerd, I poured my heart into understanding the human body. I remember clearly the moment where I became determined to pursue medicine. Driving across a bridge and staring out over the water, I recognized that I wanted to do something important with my life, my hands, my time, and with my heart. I recognized that if I showed some aptitude in biology and science, maybe I could turn it into a medical career. I am, as much back then as I still am now, absolutely stunned by the sheer intricacy and ability of the human body. I knew I wanted to protect it. I knew I wanted to understand. And I knew that I loved people. I wanted to save lives. I told my mother a week later that I had made up my mind to pursue medicine, even though I had been so against it for years.

My dream profession has been changing less dramatically in the last few years and it is when I turn towards the future that I begin to realize that I no longer had the privilege and flexibility of time that I had when I was a kid running around showing my relatives pictures of my latest fashion designs. I realized that a concept that I had been so fascinated with in my creative writing years was ringing true: I carried millions of different lifetimes, millions of different stories, millions of different journeys in my heart and I was desperate to live all of them. But time whittled these millions down, eroding paths that I once dreamt of pursuing. And as I head into the second half of my undergraduate career, I can’t help but stress about how the next few years will turn out. But more importantly, I am terrified that I have left too much of myself behind in pursuit of a future that currently demands and will continue to demand, all of me.

I grew restless with my pre-med course work, frustrated when I wasn't performing to my standards, frustrated when other people would belittle my concerns or tell me that I was worrying about nothing. I didn’t doubt that I wanted to be in the medical world, but I increasingly began to doubt my abilities and my worthiness of ever reaching it. But I kept chasing the things I loved and found myself in places that I never expected to be.

Which brings me back to Kenchanahalli, Karnataka, India. At present, it is late afternoon on a summer day, a month into my stay. What it took to be here was an incredible amount of sacrifice from my parents but also two years of doubt and concern over the direction of my future. When a certain, special, and extremely lovable suitemate introduced me to her major – Global and Public Health Sciences, I remember being fascinated by how many of the things I loved could be combined in pursuit of helping countless people. I tossed and turned about it, but ultimately decided to pursue a Global Health minor. I set my sights on India, and I told myself that I would use this summer as a litmus test on whether or not I wanted to keep on this path into medicine. I promised that I would be honest with myself and I promised that I would never forget what it took and what it meant to be here.

When I was in high school, I knew that I wanted three things out of my future: I wanted to be happy. I needed to be practical about my decision. And I wanted to keep learning. I thought my criteria was complete, but it took going to college, taking brand new classes, rushing a service fraternity out of nowhere, and traveling halfway around the world to realize that I should have added a fourth: I needed to do good.

Not every battle will be on the highest platforms in front of the people who make the largest decisions. Some battles are small – like the little boy who was rushed to VMH-Kenchanahalli with a forehead laceration that required suturing. For miles around, all there is, is farmland and small village homes. I didn’t see the entire cut but his forehead was bloody and the doctor was able to peel back part of the edges. My first reaction was visceral – a familiar stomach twist when I see gory things. It’s one of the things that kept me from wanting to pursue medicine in the first place, but now has settled into a somewhat but not really vestigial hallmark of the past. As Dr. Mohan began suturing the boy’s cut, I couldn’t help but flashback to two distinct memories: one, about a year ago, where I was carefully threading a suture needle through a fake prosthetic wound as part of an Army Suture clinic on campus, learning to do the same precise motions that the doctor was performing in front of me, and another one, so far back that I only have two flashes of a memory and a scar. My hand flew up to touch the slightly raised line on my forehead, invisible to most people though the scar tissue appears slightly lighter than the rest of my skin. When I was younger, I had crashed headfirst into a carved wooden cabinet, cutting open part of my forehead and had begun bleeding rather quickly. I don’t remember the procedure, I don’t remember most of what happened after, except that my parents were immediately able to rush me to the ER to get stitches. I remember being young, crying as we rushed out of the house.

This is the world at present – where I, more than 15 years ago, had suffered the same injury, but was able to access care straight away. The hospital was not far, we were able to drive ourselves, and even as a kid, I never doubted my parent’s ability to get me healthcare. My injury was patched up right away. I was sedated and stitched up. Even for years after it, I didn’t remember any of it because I had been unconscious during the procedure, at a sterile hospital where my parents had little to worry about. Flashback to now, where the boy in front of me was only given some local anesthetic before the doctor began suturing. The hospital, situated out in the countryside, is also open to bugs and features stray goats and oxen who poops less than ten feet outside of the door. Several times, he cried out for his mother. He was awake the entire time.

Learning, seeing, and experiencing the realities of health inequality that exists keeps me going towards medicine and healthcare. I think back to all of the things I used to want to be and realize that all of those things don’t disappear from my life just because I am choosing one path. I am getting older and time is running out, but some doors only close if you let it. Everything I have lived, wanted, and done, has taken me to here, to the Indian countryside. If I had never expressed vague interest in science, I would have never joined Science Olympiad and learned to love anatomy and learned to get over my squeamishness. If I had never pursued art and not taken my chances at learning design, I would have greatly diminished my ability to be careful and precise with my hands. If I had never considered architecture, I would have never thought practically about what it means to design and learn with other people in mind. If I had never had my lawyer phase, I wouldn’t have ever looked into what it meant to defend those who couldn’t. If I had never had my writing phase, well, this post would have never have been written and I wouldn’t have developed the ridiculous and obnoxious ability to write more pages on a blogpost than I do for most of my essays. (Just kidding, the real thing was insight and how to phrase my thoughts).

Despite all odds, SVYM and VMH-Kenchanahalli have been there for the community for more than thirty years. It is incredibly remote and accounts from the very first doctors to travel out to this area described rough to no infrastructure or roads, the fear of infectious diseases, and the stark isolation of the rural and tribal villages. I think about sacrifice, I think about those who have paved the way on the very principle that humans are meant to be equal, that we are meant to care about the problems that impact others. It’s something that this election cycle has shaken my faith about – because while politics squabbles over who our policies should care about, I remember that humanity surges on ahead anyways. Despite everything that 2016 and subsequently, 2017, so far has shown me, I believe in good people. And I know regardless of whatever my future career takes, I know which side I want to stand on.

Everything you love can and will remain a part of you. Just as matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, your passions only transform and grow together, weaving something that the world has never seen before. Whoever you are, is a unique and absolutely perfect amalgamation of a lifetime of lessons and thoughts and drives and passions. Everything you are, everything you have overcome, and everything you will grow to be, is important. We get older, but I’d like to think of it as you only get better, you only get wiser, you only get stronger. Time is running out, but if only because one day, we all need to make a decision. If you walk towards what you think will do the most good for this world and makes the best of what makes you your best possible self, everything and anything is possible.

Matte siguva (see you again), Winnie

PS I am slowly making my way through Marvel Cinematic Universe and I'm internally beating myself up for not being on top of this shit earlier :(

PPS I broke my water bottle and now its leakier than ever send help???

PPPS This photo was pre hair dye, taken at the zoo!! Saw some rogue peacocks and some monkeys and stuff like that. Also India has cooler birds than we do in the US, that is a fact.

PPPPS Back to the Marvel PS I really really really want to be Black Widow now.

PPPPPS I'm not getting any better with my fear of bugs :(

[suicidalidea]

“Do Androids Dream of Getting Robot Ass?”

The Turing test, simply put;  intelligent behavior from computers that is indistinguishable from our own intelligence. 

I posit that this test is about more than just a benchmark of computing standards. I ask you to bracket your skepticism, or more technically, that you bracket personal bias (lack of self skepticism (yeah, I realize the irony of saying such a thing, bear with me I’m learning)). 

The Turing test is a reflection pool, in it we are forced to ask  “what does it mean to be human?”  We reach this naturally, to judge a computer’s behavior to be human requires a clear understanding then, of what it means to be human. 

The only uncanny valley is the dissonance between our hubris and our ignorance. We are certainly no closer to answering that closely personal question of “what does it mean to be human” than the philosophers of ancient Greece (or really anywhere in the ancient world. Fuck Western bias. There were vibrant beautiful cultures in the East).

I see articles speaking of the obsolescence of the Turing test. I have no doubts that there are better ways of judging AI’s. But what does that mean of the reflection pool? What are the trade-off costs of abandoning such criteria? The value of the test was never the test, but what the test forces us to ask about ourselves. 

Is such a question trivial? Hardly-so. Asking the question touches base on the non-trivial systems of ethics and law. Our systems of law are based on the observation that “free-will” exists. Loosen this condition (neuroscience, although hotly contested, books like Sam Harris’ “Free Will” would indicate a loosening of this criteria to be IAW and acceptable by science standards) and what we find is the current system of Law and Detention is no longer practical/ethical.

Asking these questions are important. I think many important realizations come from these ���intuition pump” types of questions (term courtesy of Daniel Dennett). If it is the case, that we are all just hardware running with preconditioning and stimuli from environment, then the case for empathy and compassion makes itself. (Not that it ever needed to, look no further than those “sensitive” types in your life. How do they treat others? I also posit that sensitivity is no more than a full realization of a primordial human voice)

Also important is the contrast to the lack of free will argument. If free will exists then the world is truly beautiful. This is not hyperbole. If free will exists than each individual infinitesimally small moment is a choice. Two thoughts immediately come to mind.

1. If each moment is, indeed, a choice, then the question of “self” or “identity” or “person-hood” is answered by what we spend our time doing. IE, what we do with each infinitesimal moment is create self meaning. We carve reality out of the quantum infinite abyss with choice. Now it is possible to see the harm of “specialization” and distractions. AI makes it clear that “associative connections” and more importantly the amount/accuracy of associative connections are essentially equivalent to knowledge. The price you pay for specialization (intellectual or physical) is the exponential scaling effects that can occur through more generalized approaches. The “rebirth” of man was inspired by individuals whom did all; art, write, math, engineering, anatomy, etc. Greatness might, very well, be about associative connections, which is heightened if inter-disciplinary, varied. 

2. Time value of choice.  This is an obvious conclusion. Money invested over time (with positive interest rates) results in more money. [Future value = PresentVaue*(1+i)^n. I = growth rate per n. N = # of times getting to grow] What’s inside the brackets isn’t important. What is ultimately important is the understanding that spending time(synonymous for choice) can be thought of as an investment. And following from thought 1. it is an investment into your very person-hood. With an exponential effect over time. Many things are worthy investments of choice; family, friends, philanthropy, science, art, philosophy. The list is endless. And this is the danger of distractions. Distractions, mostly in the form of entertainment, can be seen as a “choice investment” without positive growth (negative growth in this cynic’s own opinion, but that’s just an opinion, live however you want you beautiful mess). Another insidious consideration is that of advertising. The “choice” investment by having it always shoved on us. (They spend the $2trillion every year because it works. They wouldn’t be spending it if it didn’t work) I think there is a reason most outlets are choosing to abandon the Turing test. Under a “Turing inspired world” advertisement isn’t just unethical it’s literal theft. Theft from the human futures of everyone they influence, but I digress.

Free will or the lack thereof. I don’t think either side is absolute or correct. I think there is much to gain from teetering between the two. How necessary is it to sometimes feel absolved on ones animal-ish mistakes(sins)? And self-forgiveness and absolution can spring from the lack of free will. Juxtaposed, forever stuck in duality, with time as choice and the ability to create ourselves. 

We live in a time where we teach that a “self” is just something we have or are. I assure you this is no coincidence and it ties hand in hand with advertising and the sickness of western culture. The real world hums merrily along on fear, lust, power, and greed (also on it’s ability to accentuate differences and marginalize common ground).  There isn’t much to condemn these behaviors and have much to condone them. (Look no further than “trickle down theory” or Alan Greenspan’s “worker instability”)

The central joke behind Kafka, as explained by David Foster Wallace, “is that the horrific struggle to establish a human self results in a self whose humanity is inseparable from that horrific struggle.”  We are sculptors wearing blindfolds; scared, fearful, horny, human. The reality we craft a mystery to ourselves. The importance of self skepticism. Removing the blindfold. 

So what of the Turing test? It’s a grain of sand that manages to topple the scale. For not only is the scale not real, but the grain of sand turns out to be an infinite beach head. Uncrossable. The uncanny valley.

-Prophet$