#and that's going to carry through the whole arc

[pickinglilahs]

Okay, let's unpack this response here

TL;DR: 'weak and surface' level is exactly how I would describe prevs "obliteration". I'm not convinced THEY read the books. Or maybe they're just another TERF, considering that's how it reads. I completely disagree with Harry naming his kid after Snape. The ONLY explanation I can think for it is that JKR has no idea what love is (which is also cannon, as far as I'm concerned)

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

Lastly: yes, comparing CHILDREN who DID see the error of their ways to an ADULT who had to be CONNED into doing the right thing is laughable.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[kaibutsushidousha]

what did you think about skadi's handling in arctic summer world? as an ibuki fan i'm puzzled as to why she agreed to skadi's request to stop, but any general insight into what aspects of her were explored here is appreciated.

Thanks to Odin's questionable kindness, Scáthach-Skadi is the last survivor of Ragnarök. That's a situation she's very displeased with and her every major appearance has been her trying to process her grief in some way.

The most relevant attempt is obviously her Lostbelt. She was initially grateful for the lengths Odin went to keep her alive and believed she also needed to go great lengths to preserve the world he left her with. Skadi ruled for 3000 as the most anti-violence Lostbelt King we've ever seen. She constantly had her eyes on her world, and micromanaged all the humans and Jotunns so that there would be no fighting in her world.

She was unquestionably devoted to her Lostbelt, but by no means she made a good job. Her messed up decisions came at great personal cost for the giants who couldn't think for themselves, the humans who only got to live until age 25 at most, and to Skadi herself who had to overexert herself to keep everything in check while also maintain Surtr's seal. Skadi was a joyless woman stuck in the joyless world of her own design. Absolutely no one benefitted from her dystopia.

But playable Skadi is obviously not like that. The world that was hers to care is already gone, and she finds herself free from her queenly chains of responsibility for what might as well be the first time ever. In Chaldea, she's characterized as very lost and clueless. Someone Medb and the other Scáthach need to introduce to so many things she could never see in her small, enclosured world. She has something of a background arc through many cameos with her experiencing many new things, from food (ice cream, takoyaki, alien monster sashimi) to roles for herself (fairy godmother for Lizderella and Martha, and of course, park administrator).

There's also her Interlude, but I'll get back to it later. The reason why I covered this whole recap of Skadi's character is because Skadi's part in Arctic Summer World also feels like a recap of her character. A return to her origins without the previous stakes. In this less messed up environment, Skadi remains as awful an administrator as she was always and remains self-destructively overworking herself for something the people she's serving didn't ask for.

The difference here is that Götterdämmerung is a story about Ophelia's inability to distinguish love from emotional abuse, so Skadi had to carry the important role of sincerely loving mother that made everything worse for everyone, while Summer Skadi is in a role where she can review her mistake and not create Super Fun & Colorful Götterdämmerung 2.

But the part about vaguely self-biographical manga being the medium that lets her examine her past and assess what she needs to do feels like a mark of progress for herself and more like a mark of progress for Jalter as a mentor sharing with others what brought her solace.

As for Ibuki, I think she just stopped because she knew she wouldn't get what she wanted from Skadi's current state. Ibuki wanted things to get joyous and lively, so she ordered Douman to give the Grail to someone full of love. Douman's choice was Skadi because his initial mission was interacting with the Lostbelt Kings, so he was very aware of her love. I don't think Douman was too surprised by the mistakes Skadi repeated here. If Skadi and Fujimaru say they're unwilling, then who is Ibuki throwing this party for?

I get that the end is sudden, but I feel like it works really well for Skadi's long-term characterization. The Scandinavian Lostbelt was a shit place to because Skadi had no respect for anyone's autonomy. After going to Chaldea, disrespecting other people's autonomies remained a recurring problem with Skadi, with Summer Caenis, Lizderella, and Santa Martha all being unconsented transformations.

But then came her Interlude, with the conclusion being that even though she eventually found new happiness in Chaldea because of Odin making her survive and endure 3000 years of trauma, this is not something she wanted, so Odin violated her autonomy and she doesn't need to feel grateful for it. Skadi's consent issues disappear entirely after this Interlude, but since Arctic Summer World was so shortly after it, I like to believe that Skadi saying no and Ibuki immediately respecting also played a part in fixing her flaw.

[muffinlance]

The point where you, uh. You definitely put a note with the wrong story. Because what does this mean

Which was the point Zuko realized trees didn’t really understand people. At all. That was okay, Zuko didn’t, either.

[starheirxero]

Genuine thoughts tho are that I think I'm starting to like how this is panning out a bit more!!! Its starting to feel the same way that Ruin's whole situation did a few months back, where I was terribly nervous Ruin's big secret was that he was actually secretly a horrible evil villain who's trigger happy etc etc but it turned out to actually be a really interesting and refreshing situation of grey morality and character complexities n such, yk?

Like, this is going in an interesting direction!! Moon, now Nexus, is 100% being taken advantage of during his moment of weakness and besides my obvious delight in such a fucked dynamic, I'm genuinely hopeful and curious to see how this will pan out!! I'm still not totally sure if the lead-up was just messy grief, Dark Sun influences, or both, or maybe even a secret third thing, but it really does feel like things are starting to fall a little more into place now and I'm liking it :]

[ruvviks]

the way i need to write about roksana so bad

[squirrelno2]

some proof of life for Nightingale:

It wasn’t supposed to be a big, dramatic fight. The idea was to destroy the killer robots before it reached that point.

“They’re down this way,” Nick said. ��Two guards. The problem is if we go for them, we have to make sure nobody else comes running. The doors all along this hall have more guards on the other side.”

“I can clear it out,” Flynn said.

“No, you can’t!” Carrie said. “What are you talking about? You have no powers.”

They glared at each other.

“Uh,” Nick said. He looked at Willie, who was picking nervously at his own nails. “That’s never stopped her before, but the Queen’s right. It’s not a good idea.”

“Maybe you could trust me when I say what I can handle?” Flynn said, still glaring at Carrie.

“Is this about me or –“ Nick began, but Carrie cut him off.

“Maybe you could stop putting us all at risk by trying to do things that everyone knows you shouldn’t do?”

“What?” Willie asked, jerking his head up.

“Stay out of this!” Carrie and Flynn said together.

“I wasn’t in it,” Willie said.

[timelesslords]

i might just have 3 different types of compounding brain rot rn but tommy is so antigone coded actually

[proveagain]

no bc there's Something abt which episodes he wears that hoodie in and the fact that yellow symbolizes hope and optimism and positivity hear me out

[calocreek]

OK here it is, a ton of 'production' stuff for the Hot Guy Comic Zine! I've never been part of a project like this. Even though I was working on my comic mostly solo (shout-out to my editor Violet!), the world-building and story arc planning was completely collaborative. For example:

We started out on the world-building by voting on character's superpowers! Plenty of powers were almost unanimously agreed on, but Cuteguy was a HUGE campaign. We were pretty much 50/50 split between can fly/can't fly. Propaganda was exchanged LOL, like this piece where I campaigned for limited flying capabilities 😂 And thats what we ended up settling on!

From there we worked on a ton of brainstorming/world-building that I mostly spectated with an occasional doodle like these haha. I'm new to such elaborate AUs!

Pitch time!! I had pitches for each era and they were all pretty light and banter-y, so my year 1 pitch ended up fitting the vibe the best. My original pitch was 'HG + CG learn some key things about each other and plan to set up a base they can use together.' But when I started my script, I got really caught up in how they were navigating a partnership without knowing each others identities. The more I wrote through that, the more I wanted my story to be ABOUT that! So thats where my script started coming together.

Designs! I'm definitely not a confident costume designer. I was trying to go for low-tech + practical since it was early in their careers, and of course, easy to draw 😂

Process went more or less like this! Full color comics take a LONG TIME but it was a total labor of love. I had the graffiti bgs in mind from the very start since I knew it was dialogue heavy, I wanted to make sure the art was interesting and worth spending time looking at. Oh lord did I get carried away. I'm OBSESSED with the symbolism the fandom has put to the life series and so I tried to sneak in as much meaningful symbolism as possible. AND THE RESULT:

Guess I did pretty well! 😂😂😂

Anyway, I can't overstate how proud I feel to have gotten to work on this project. My whole goal as a hobbyist is to get to work with other artists I look up to and respect so this was a dream come true! Thank you everyone for reading, for 15k downloads (!!!), and for just being an awesomely creative fandom space to make art in! I hope to do more stuff like this again some day 💕

[bokettochild]

Linked Universe Enterence p.3

Okay! So I have thoughts!!!!

First off, does anyone remember when JoJo shared those first snippets? How there was a fun little detail that suddenly disappeared when the comic actually became more than doodles?

Yeah, I'm talking about this guy

(Not the grouchy old man being offended, the owl LOL)

I know there's a chance I'm wrong, a big one at that, but I think it would be really cool if, if only for a short while, JoJo brought him back, even if it's just for this era of Hyrule. Let Time have his owl buddy!

Anyways, to the actual comic!

I noticed that the boys are all still together, so I'm guessing they're waiting until they come to a cross-roads to actually split up like Four advised last time. So we have that to look forwards to in the coming updates!

I love that she's really highlighting the similarities and differences in this arc, showing us who knows what and what they've done, but also the little things; both with owls and the antifairy!

I adore the Owlan reference/appearance!

And Time immediately agreeing about the "long, drawn out lectures part" made me laugh. (His expression, my Hylia!!!)

That is the face of a man who kept accidentally asking to "hear it again" and regrets it with every bone of his being LOL

It's good to see more call backs to the last comics too! Having Hyrule be wary of the statue because he remembers seeing it before, and Warriors agreeing, but also reminding that it didn't cause harm. The fact that Hyrule keeps his sword pointed at it though, wary, does say a lot about how cautious he's being all the same (Wild ought to take notes)

And of course this whole panel

Twilight's awkwardly trying to assure the rest without spilling the secret, Sky laughing and turning to look at Legend, and the fact that the vet is just so entirely done with even just the thought of being a rabbit. (I love his face, omgosh).

Te way I screamed "anti-fairy!" when I saw this, and then was so, so delighted that Legend and I had the same thought (I am unwell about this man).

I'm equally unwell about the fact that Legend just has to say "ouch" (which you only say at inconveniences and not real, actual hurts) and immediately everyone's turning, weapons out and ready to help him face...whatever. Like, he's fine, guys, but it's sweet you care (now Legend, please take note and realize you belong, you idiot)

Love that Time hears "fairy" and immediately is all ears. All the more so at the "anti" part. Man was raised by fairies and he absolutely doesn't like the idea of something that would hurt them.

Meanwhile Legend is just being freaking Haku (Spirited Away) over here!

Tell me you don't see it!!!!!!

Also, his casual use of magic to purify something, to just make it no longer a threat, rather than hurting it. That need to save EVERYONE is really showing through here, huh?

And immediately, everyone is shocked that he did that, but also what it means about fairies. About dark magic. But Time and Wars especially!

Gosh, just Legend's little worried face and Time's offense at the idea of fairies being corrupted and harmed. Shows a bit about them here too I think. Time is maybe slightly obsessed with fairies (reasonably so) and hates them being harmed, but he shows his worry on the matter in anger. legend, meanwhile, becomes more sombre, quieter: it bothers him too (maybe reminds him of a certain predecessor?)

Get this man a tiara, he's a freaking Disney Princess over here, good grief!!!! He's carrying fairy food on what? The slim chance he has time to stop and feed them? Honestly, i know he's probably as attached to fairies as Time (although with a healthier relationship with them), but this is just too cute. this man is going to be the death of me!!!

Anyways, here's the bonuses!!!!

SUN APPEARANCE!!!!!!!! We have a canon Sun appearance!!!!! Like, sure, sleepy student Sky, but it's SUN!!!!

This smile. Oh my gosh I adore him. He's just so glad he got to help the corrupted little one become normal again.

JoJo was having fun with Four I see LOL

Man really said "hang on, let me check my purse, I think I have snacks in here"

Freaking Mom Coded

[llamagoddessofficial]

LLAMAAAAAAAA

WRITE MORE ABT FARMER (when you get the chance ofc)

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

Your life. Hand it over

---

It was the thickest rain you’d ever seen. It didn't fall like normal rain, it fell in layers, great arcs of water that thrashed the ground one after the other, stormy waves hitting a shoreline. The roar of it landing on the world around you was almost deafening - a problem, considering it was three in the morning, and you were walking in almost pitch black. Any other night you would’ve been guided through the seemingly-endless farmland by recognising the hedges and hearing the animals... right now, you were guided only by the weakened blueish light of your headlamp, and the best that your memory had to offer.

You spotted it, in the near distance. The tiny light of another lamp was flickering back and forth in the rain, moving with the speed and efficiency of a hard-at-work man who couldn’t wait to get out of the terrible weather and go back to bed. You quickened the pace, marching down the field, your waterproof pants were coated in cold mud up to the calves; you were glad you couldn’t feel it. The only wet part of you was your face, and hands - you needed the latter out to hold the big metal flask you were carrying.

You didn’t mind the wet and cold. You stomped on regardless. All you cared about was the sight of that head lamp, getting closer and closer in the relentless wind and rain. You could just about make out the things he was looking at, illuminated by his lamp... the part of the fence he was doing his best to repair.

Before you knew it, you were within shouting distance. But there was no point, he wouldn't hear you. A particularly strong gust rushed across the field, you felt a carpet of rain hit you in the back, and the wind shoved you ungracefully forward. You let out a little yelp but managed to stop yourself from falling over.

... You heard your name over the rain. He had noticed you. You looked up - his headlamp was angled slightly downward, rather than straight ahead, so it didn’t dazzle you like you expected it to. Sans was dressed in his usual farm gear, his heavy boots and thick waterproof pants, and the rain had washed his green jacket cleaner than you’d ever seen it before. His hood was pulled securely up over his skull and he had a fence post the size of you in one hand like it was nothing.

... And he was looking at like he’d seen a ghost. It was rather comical.

“There you are!” You picked up the pace for the last few steps, jogging over to him, before you finally came to a stop. Phew, you’d been walking for almost five minutes in the storm. It felt good to finally see him. Despite the cold, you were pretty flushed from the exercise, hot under the combination of your sweater and coat.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” His green eyelights glowed under his hood, like two soft fireflies, a much more pleasant colour than the cold lamplight both of you were bathed in. It was as if only the two of you existed in the whole world... two headlamps in an endless sea of dark and wind and water. “it’s two in the morning,”

“Three, actually,” you chirped. It was somewhat hard to hear him over the rain hitting your hood, but you just stood a little closer to him. Your hurried breaths formed clouds, you could see them in the combined lamp glow.

He put down the fence post. It dropped with an heavy thunk. “did papyrus send you?”

You just held the big metal flask out to him. It had a black strap attached to the side of it that was sodden by now. He accepted it, seemingly out of instinct, staring down at it before glancing back up to you.

“... uh... thanks. what is it?”

“Soup!”

He blinked. “soup?”

“Yeah. I woke up to the rain, and I figured you’d be out here, because you’d mentioned the fence needed fixing properly before the storm hit." You pulled your coat sleeves over your now-free hands. "Though I did ask Papyrus if you’d actually headed out before I left. I’m not that crazy.”

He was still staring. The rain continued to roar, you had really hoped it would've eased up by now. But it seemed to be only getting worse. Probably for the best Sans was repairing the fence now, before everything completely flooded come morning.

“I know, I know," you continued when he didn't reply. "I’m dumb for going out in the rain, I’ll get wet. But I’m fine, see? I put the waterproof pants on over my boots, like you said. It’s been raining like hell and the only part of me that’s wet is my hands!”

“you... came out all this way, to bring me soup?” he said, softly. You almost didn't hear him.

“Yeah. Pumpkin soup. Knowing you, you didn’t eat anything before you left.”

He had gone quiet. That wasn’t like him. He was looking at you very intently, with great big eylights. Another gust of wind sent a wall of rain into the two of you. You visibly swayed, but Sans didn't seem affected by it.

Was he upset that you might get cold? He didn't look upset, his eyelights were so round, almost sparkly.

“I promise I’m not cold," you pressed. "This is the coat you lent me. See? It’s - ” 

Sans moved forward a step. It was all he really needed to close the gap between you. He put an arm around you, despite the flask in hand, and swept you in against him; you were too startled by the sudden movement and proximity to move or do anything. His free hand came up, sliding between your coat hood and the side of your cheek, cupping your face.

He leant in and kissed you.

...

For a moment, you couldn’t hear the rain. You couldn’t hear anything at all. All you could think about was how smooth his hand was, how nice he smelled, how hard your heart was beating, and how warm he was. After so long walking around in the rain, being pulled in close to him felt incredible.

He felt so strong, too. All night, you'd been pushed around by any breath of wind, no matter the direction. In his arms? Nothing moved you. Nothing could shake you.

... Your eyes closed. Maybe it was the dark and gale and rain, maybe it was how early it was in the morning. But you just didn’t want him to let you go.

...

Sans pulled back. Your eyelids fluttered open again. There were raindrops on his skull, and the lamplight was dancing over his bones. His eyelights are such a pretty colour. He was looking at you like he wanted to pick you up and walk home with you.

...

Then, in an instant, the reality of what he just did appeared to hit him. So close to him, you could watch in real time as his eyelights shrank into pins in his sockets, and his smile twitched in what you could only describe as total internal panic.

... You, too, started to do the worst possible thing - think.

Sans just... kissed me. Sans just kissed me.

... You both just stared at each other, he was still holding you. You had no idea for how long. Sans’ eyelights kept flickering between your eyes and your nose, and you kept staring blankly at him, dazed and suddenly very confused.

...

“I-I should, head back,” you started, nervously.

“yeah. uh... yeah.” His hand came off your face, and he let go of your waist, stepping back again. You immediately missed the warmth. “thank you for the soup."

You nodded.

"i’ll..." He sounded shaky. He held onto the flask with both hands, maybe to stop himself from fidgeting. "see you later?”

"You too," you stammered.

... Wait. Shit.

No idea what else to say or do, you stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, trying to formulate something to say or some interesting witty way to turn that fuck-up into a joke and end the conversation - but you had absolutely nothing. Your head was spinning, your heart was still beating a mile a minute, you couldn’t believe that had really just happened. So you just turned right around and started walking.

...

Holy fuck, you thought, pulling your hood tight over your head. What the hell am I going to tell Papyrus?

[simpforsolas]

i wrote up this whole rant yesterday about how I didn't find the Solas arc satisfying in this game, and seeing the ama and interviews today, I think I understand why that is lol.

yes, Solas carried this game. Yes i loved every time he was on the screen. yes his arc made me cry. NO it was not satisfying. and i'm just gonna go ahead and copy paste my rant explaining my feelings the best i can.

(i wrote this yesterday before all the revelations)

Solas's writing wasn't successful to me not because I think he was written out of character, necessarily. I think that every individual instance of his character being written on-screen was fine, but to me, his character was missing the wider context that put the isolated actions we saw of him in the game into perspective

The entire point is that the Dread Wolf/Fen'Harel persona that we see is a mask he wears. And that's fine, I like it! But what makes a mask interesting is to see what it's masking, and Rook doesn't really get to see that unless you choose the reedem ending. I guess what I'm getting at is that I craved to see more Inquisition-style Solas, in particular Trespasser Solas who was so remorseful but stuck in his ways, who stuck to his path but said stuff like "I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend." All these different sides are real sides of Solas, but because the game didn't really show us all these sides then we're left with a lopsided picture and now I have to deal with all these fools misinterpreting him all over the internet

I can still interpret it my way well enough, but the thing is that's my interpretation and it's a valid interpretation of the source material itself, but other people's interpretations are also valid because the game didn't really get more into his motivations other than "it's all mythal." But if you go back to inquisition, you can see how passionate Solas is about his ideals! His banter with other party members and his approval and dialogue you get with him really suggests that he actually CARES about his goal at an idealistic level, it's not just about regret. I like the regret! I like the history with Mythal!! I just wish it was more of something in his backstory that shaped him to who he is today and is something he needed to work through in order to finally see things clearly, instead of being the one magical thing that had to happen for him to get his "redemption"

I'm also rather frustrated that the right answer was just going straight back to the status quo, when we KNOW the veil is falling apart and shattered and an unnatural wound inflicted on the world that turns spirits into demons, prevents the world from achieving the magical/technological wonders it once had, keeps elves from immortality, and creates this fear and class difference between mages/non-mages and people who understand the fade and those who don't. Like when I replayed Origins i was struck by how many plot points are basically "the veil is weak here which means that there are demons here and they killed hundreds of people!!!!!!" Things like that are still going to be a problem hello why was none of this addressed 😭😭😭 I wish we could've validated the problems Solas's plan resolved to fix instead of saying "you just need to move on man this is just you taking your issues out on the world" because it WASN'T THAT

'm also really frustrated that we don't see a SINGLE big plan of Solas's go right because I know my man, I BELIEVE in my man, I know that he was smart and clever and had wins!!! I don't mind him fucking up but when all we ever see of him are major fuck ups it annoys me because COME ON. He's the DREAD WOLF. He knows how to make plans and carry them out. He saved thousands of slaves during his time, he fought and won countless battles, he locked away the Evanuris! Sure things fell apart in the actual veil part but he was able to trick all of them and did succeed in locking them away. The only thing we actually see him accomplish in this game is escaping regret prison, which is instantly seen as less cool because Rook gets out after like five minutes, and taking down the archdemon which was pretty hot but that wasn't about trickery, that was him engaging in straight up physical fighting in his wolf form. Anyway it frustrates me because now people in the fandom can rightly laugh about him being stupid and having bad plans. Yet I can't help but go back to inquisition and listen to his advice, dialogue, etc, and he's always so thoughtful and wise! So i just find it hard to believe that this man is incapable of taking a win. even if he kept all the Ls in this game but they had included a few more wins i wouldn't even be mad but it was literally just a collection of Solas's Ls and it frustrates me because I think he's better than that

i'm just worked up about this because i've been seeing takes about solas from people who used to like him but this game made them hate him, and the fact that the source material from datv as an isolated game actually supports their perspective is driving me insane. cuz if you ask me a lot of solas's character and motivations between dai and datv are actually at odds with each other. even if the surface characterization is absolutely on point, there was just so much context and scope that we're missing in this game. i can't handle it

[starleska]

i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why

many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.

let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:

‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?

let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?

of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.

but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?

it’s money.

when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic.��

let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 

it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.

still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:

a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)

a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)

poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)

a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)

remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 

hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 

now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 

the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.

in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 

The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 

Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 

Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.

there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?

it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 

it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 

and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!

thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰

[shellforbrains]

the idea of Stolas publicly humiliating Blitzø in Apology Tour needs, needs, NEEDS to be looked at through the lens of their class difference.

(this is an idea that's been floating around twitter. that stolas is going full diss track in the scene the above screencap is from.

and weirdly enough, there's been some people PRAISING or DEFENDING the idea.

so i did a thread about it on twitter & decided to post it here too bc why not. slightly edited of course bc i made typos in the original lmao.)

first off: i am of the belief that one of the big reasons that Full Moon goes badly is bc stolas is off his meds.

i think that both stolas & blitzø will share some blame for the conversation spiraling out, but i think the main underlying reason that this happens is bc stolas is off his meds & not communicating his point properly.

second: i think that if blitzø DOES cross some sort of line in FM & ends up really hurting stolas, stolas is obviously within his rights to be hurt & feel bad about that shit. and especially bc he's going through his second adolescence & feeling a lot of these intense & big feelings for the first time.

him lashing out in some way or being a little petty could be in somewhat understandable. he's not perfect & has flaws just like everyone else.

HOWEVER. i do not think stolas lashing out after FM or going so far as to PUBLICLY HUMILIATE blitzø is what will happen. doing something like this would kinda be major steps backwards in stolas' character growth.

he has done a lot of work on himself over the 1st half of season 2 but he still has a long ways to go, ESPECIALLY in regards to how he treats imps as a whole.

stolas, a very powerful and influential prince of hell showing up to publicly humiliate blitzø, an imp at the bottom of hell's class system, would be... very questionable at best. and potentially dangerous for blitzø at worst.

regardless of how hurt stolas could potentially be & what big feelings he's experiencing for the first time in his second adolescence, the position & privilege he still currently holds are things that always needs to be considered. especially since a huge part of his character arc is that he's starting to REALIZE the extent of that class divide & how he unintentionally took advantage of that with the Full Moon Deal.

i REALLY do not think that stolas will actually belt out a blitzø diss track. i think that he will be using this opportunity to attempt to communicate properly what he WANTED to say in FM but couldn't bc their conversation spiraled.

but i am still writing this to try to get people to look at this from an alternate perspective.

i love stolas. i relate to him so much & i don't want to make it seem like i don't think he's allowed to be imperfect or hurt by things. i am merely REMINDING anyone that reads this that the class difference between stolas & blitzø currently still plays a large part in A LOT of aspects of their relationship.

publicly humiliating blitzø with the influence he has would NOT be a girlboss moment. it would carry a LOT of weight on how blitzø & his company could be seen & maybe even have an effect on their livelihood.

which is exactly what stolas wanted to AVOID by giving blitzø the crystal in the first place.

he is giving the crystal so that I.M.P can keep going & growing, as well as trying to put blitzø & himself on ever-so-slightly more even footing. this idea of publicly humiliating blitzø would be the exact OPPOSITE of that.

[hoseoksluna]

THE FUN DAY, pt. II. | kth

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

genre: fluff, a little angst

word count: 5.0k

summary: you didn't prepare a fun day this time, but it became more than that.

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

note: this was the first fic, during which i absolutely sobbed my heart out. i never had this happen to me and i'm sure you'll feel it as you read. please, show me your love. enjoy. <3

An abandoned woman can weep,  but an abandoned boy can weep not. Uncried affliction pains the most, even love, when seven mountains repose between it, the seven mountains of hard rocks. 

I have two small windows, I have two big eyes, but writings I have none that would drift, at dusk, upon my table, reminiscent of an ivory cloud, and that would say:  people love each other, man! 

𓂃 ౨ৎ . — The Evening by Jiří Wolker

Paris was chilled to the marrow, yet embraced by winter. Dotted with mute stars and coruscating lights, life and poetry that were missing syllables—as if it were trying to speak, trying to converse, but something was prying its fingers inside their mouth, not allowing them to let out a sound. 

That’s precisely how you felt within the depth of your afternoon nap. 

The Eiffel Tower tried with all its monumental might to say something. The cafés with their myriads of intellectual words, glasses of wine and desserts strained their throats much to their dismay. You gazed upon it all—and you felt it deeply, their forced inability that wasn’t theirs at all. You wore nothing but a flimsy, tattered white T-shirt that has seen its better days, an item of cotton that belonged to Taehyung, and your feet were bare on the cobblestones, scratched and raw, though not cold. In spite of it, you feared for your baby. Feared the cold, that you did not sense, would touch it and bring something unfortunate to its developing body. And you drifted like this through your dream, carrying fear and pity. For the whole vastness of Paris, forbidden to speak; and for the smallest of Paris inside your belly, unable to speak yet. 

You drifted and stood, gazing and gazing. Wanted to leave. Wanted to go back to your apartment, but you couldn’t. Your guilt kept you in your place while your fear strangled you until you were blue. 

No people in sight and you were dying. Blue and pregnant, blue and abandoned. Blue and maddened—within the realm of dreams, that is. 

And then just as you internally reach for Jimin, as you have many times since October, a hand is brushing through your hair, stirring you awake, stealing you away from the tragedy of it all. And the sensation of iciness prickling the tips of your toes is what you feel first, the heft of the large palm on the crown on your head second. 

A tearful whimper gushes out of your throat, the awareness that you’re no longer rooted in your dream making your body squirm under the fleece blanket. The fear punctures through the flesh of your heart one more time before it escapes through the crooked center of your shoulder blades. 

And there’s a figure sitting by the edge of your bed, nestled in the arc of your folded legs and rounded form.

And it’s no longer afternoon.

You blink in the dark, try to make out what is happening and before your sleepy brain comprehends who that large figure is, your heart knows. 

Your heart smells the autumn spices of his being. Apples, pumpkin and cinnamon, despite being clouded by the wintry air. It hasn’t seen him in three months, but it knows him. 

It knows him intimately. 

“Taehyung?” your heart whispers, the sound coming out of your throat loosely, yet with a piercing pain that is greater than the fear you felt. 

The autumn boy sighs, enveloping you in the homely snugness that you missed, that you lacked all this time. You reach for his hand, blindly, finding it somewhere on his lap, and upon that first contact, he speaks. 

“Hi, baby,” he croaks out, the words new and untouched by this strange reality—as if he saved them for this very moment, keeping them deep in his clavicles all those months. “I’m home.” 

The noise that leaves you could be mistaken for a saddened sob, but it’s one of such absolute joy. The autumn boy coos, leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp. The yellow light shows him to you and you discover that the autumn boy isn’t a boy at all. 

Taehyung is a man. 

Short, black hair decorates his forehead in a sweet, seemingly youthful way that is painstakingly oxymoronic. His bulbous cheeks are pallid, carrying the weight of the winter in them—new, new winter that you barely even recall basking in with him. They hold up his boxy smile, though, something that you never shall forget. And lingering your eyes there, the sight is surreal. 

So surreal that you lift a hand and caress that meaningful cheek, coloring it in a rose tint that grows warm in your palm. 

A man of all rose gardens and sculptures that are alive. 

And when he tilts his face into your touch, your heart swells to such an extent that you spring up into a sitting position and melt into him within a clasp. A warm, a real clasp. 

He’s real. 

He’s here. 

His hair is silkily soft, the tresses of an angel that takes care of flowers such as these. The skin upon the nape of his neck is feverish, as is the torso of his body that you half press up against. He didn’t feel this warm when you were wandering unknowingly in your imagination. And when you pull back to make sure that what you’re seeing isn’t that figment of that damned imagination of yours, he ascertains to you that he is real by letting his boxy smile quiver. 

It quivers; it is not frozen in place. Beautiful still, but not frozen. Quivering with the heft of all the emotions due to your reunion. 

And when you slide your palm down his chest, his two perfect lungs lift to kiss it, just to fall and kiss it again. Over and over again. 

Large chest. Large shoulders. Large biceps. 

And large eyes that melt into chocolate pools as he deepens your shared gaze, studying the way you’re comprehending his presence. He gives you all the time in the world, as if understanding that his absence was too long and, tenderly, you break. 

Tears rush to your irises while you acknowledge your soul with the principle of it all by tracing his body with your fingers. The veins of his hand, thumping under your touch, that are the roots of the trees that watch over the roses in his garden. So full of life and present time. The forearms that aren’t hidden by the tweed of his usual suits, but clothed in the plush of an off-white zipper jacket that your heart mourns. A clash of what you’re used to and the reality. 

He must have gotten off the plane at this hour. His duffel bag must be somewhere in the living room, abandoned now in place of you. 

You’re no longer abandoned. He’s here. 

You’re no longer delirious. He’s here. 

He was supposed to come in the morning. That’s what he said in your last phone call, where he let you in on what Jimin had done for the both of you. Your response to his promise in October manifested in the following months, but Jimin fought against it. Knelt before the feet of the man he’s afraid of and begged. Begged the Sergeant to make that call and allow Taehyung to have his vacation. Begged until his knees bruised and his hands left a wet print on the dirty floor. 

And the Sergeant softened, impressed by his strong will and the respect he showed him. Nodded his head and made it so Taehyung leaves by the end of the year. Did so well in North Korea, protected his military brothers before himself, the Sergeant interceded with those facts and off Taehyung went. 

Off to catch a plane in December. 

I’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, Taehyung said over the phone to you, and somehow he must’ve seen the pout that was forming on your mouth because he added a reassuring I know right after. 

You didn’t understand why he couldn’t have come a day earlier, but now you see that you didn’t have to understand it. 

Because Taehyung made it. 

He came home on his birthday. 

You press your face against the side of his, your arms back around his neck. “My love,” you whisper and gently squirm, for you feel a movement in your belly. You open your eyes, brushing your lashes across his rose petal cheek, smiling a smile that quivers just like his. That is first movement of your baby that you ever felt. The tears pour out, watering the soft skin. You kiss the pathway it created, only to stray away and go up, nudging your nose against his. Let out breaths of your overwhelmingness against him like this. Feel that your baby spoke to you, spoke in the only way it can, telling you to tell him. And you do. Finally, you do—after nearly six months. “I have a gift for you.” 

Humming, his long fingers find the back of your head, his arm caging you in as he buries his digits into the waterfall of your tousled hair, grown thicker now due to your pregnancy. 

You didn’t make any plans for tomorrow, fearful it would turn misfortunate like it did in October. And because his return is so sudden, so unexpected, telling him now feels more than right. Feels divine, feels memorable, the destiny propelled by your baby. 

Within the snug atmosphere of your embrace, you travel with your hand on a journey across his back far longer than it used to be, down his strong arm until you wind up at his fingers. You take them and place them on your swollen belly, bigger now than it used to be as well. 

Both of you changed in different ways. 

“Happy birthday,” you breathe out, the words accompanied by your strangled sobs, and just like the cafés, the Eiffel Tower and the life and the poetry of Paris in your drowsy, afternoon dream, Taehyung doesn’t say anything. 

Not for a while. 

His lungs pause. The moisture of his lips crumbles into dryness like a withering blossom. His eyelids remain unmoving, irises fixed on a spot you cannot see because you cannot stop gazing at his evident shock. 

One he begins to wake up from when the baby kicks against his hand. 

He blinks, a heavy breath gusts out of his lips, upon which he runs his tongue. He turns his head to face you, no longer smiling, but trembling. A film of wetness clouds his sparkling eyes and you think the wholeness of the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower is in them, perhaps even greater than it. And against the place the baby kicked, it rests with their small body, drawn to their Daddy’s warmth. And it is only then that your tears and his, at last and in tandem, fall out. And along with it—every stress you ever felt regarding not being able to conceive. 

“We did it?” he asks, carefully, his voice raspy, quiet and deep, wanting to hear it from you first before he looks down, and you can merely nod. He whimpers, sniffling, glancing into your eyes with such depth that it moves through you, sealing something within you. Perhaps joy, perhaps satisfaction with life, perhaps the boundless love that you feel for him, and you want to stay in this moment for far longer than time allows you. But it is foolish, this want of yours. Because when Taehyung finally looks down at your belly, it is a moment that is slowly and surely carving itself into your skin, your flesh and your bloodline. For your baby to see in the future. He fondles the rounded valley of their little body and comes to terms with it, vividly. His sobs stream out, pained but ebullient, and there his mouth cracks that boxy smile. Real, colorful, shining. “We did it.” 

You nod again, the warmth of his hand boiling, homely, so right. “We did it, Taehyung.” 

His eyes flick to yours and as they close, he closes his fingers around the back of your neck as well and kisses you. Boiling, homely, right and real. 

Not a figment of your imagination. Not your delirium, caused by your abandonment, by the other end of your love that missed him. 

This is reality. This is the present moment. 

Taehyung deepens the kiss and in it you feel the gladness of his being, the words ‘finally’ that begin to unfold down your throat, hasty to meet your baby in your belly. 

And Taehyung is hasty, too. 

Breaking the kiss, he leans down and presses his lips against that rounded valley. Peppers a hundred, a thousand, a million kisses against that part of the baby’s body. Lingers there, cheek against it, head on your thigh, and breathes. 

You let him bask in it for as long as he needs, raking your fingers through his short hair. And your teardrops fall onto his colored cheek when he begins to talk to his baby. 

“Daddy’s here, little one,” he says, his tone mellifluous, his lips brushing against their body with each pronounced word—just like Jimin’s thumb brushed against your small belly at the time when he held your hand outside of the jazz club. “Daddy loves you so much. He can’t wait to meet you, but he has to finish his military service first and then he’ll be home for good. With you and Mommy. I’ll take care of you both. I’ll never leave again.” 

You swipe away your tears from his cheek and Taehyung straightens. Kisses your lips. Kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and hugs you as if he never hugged you before, three hearts connected in that embrace when he pulls you onto his lap and holds you. 

He inhales your scent, your hair, the sleep you emerged out of, tracing patterns on your back. And then the sweetest form of interrogation happens. 

He brushes your hair back with both hands, keeping it in place behind your ears. “How far along are you?” 

You can’t halt the bloom of the grin on your face, the question reminding you of Jimin. “Five months. Six next week.” 

He reciprocates the smile, but as he begins to do the math, it withers. “So your due date is in May?” 

The corners of your mouth downturn. You haven’t allowed yourself to fully think about the time in the near future in terms of you giving birth, knowing the pain it would bring. You’re aware you should prepare yourself for it, so the worst doesn’t happen, but you also don’t want to prematurely cause harm to your baby with that stress. 

Your emotions are in shambles. They are a threat and you wish they weren’t. 

“May 30th is my due date, but it doesn’t mean I give birth on that day. I can give birth in June, too. It depends on the baby.” You laugh, softly and shortly. “Can you take a leave?” 

You can see him racking his brain, his features solemn and tense. “I get discharged on June 10th and I don’t know if the commander will allow me…” he trails off, briefly looking away before finding his way back to your eyes. “Don’t worry about that. It’s my responsibility. I’ll be here. You won’t be alone during your first childbirth, I promise you that. I’ll be here. Do you trust me?” 

Without a shadow of doubt, you do, and so you don’t hesitate to nod your head and express it through your own words. “I do, Taehyung. I trust you.” 

He smiles, the blush in his cheeks deepening its hue. “Good.” 

He kisses you, gently, and it’s a kiss of such romantic affection that you forget about the threat of the stress, the threat of him not being here during your childbirth. You melt into him, basking in the demonstration of his love for you, of the pride he feels because of the way you trust in him. You can enormously feel it all, as if it was written on his lips and you could read it. 

He’s daubed in this resplendent romance as he withdraws. Coated in sweat, he’s so refulgent that you dissolve, falling in love with him all over again. Your inner child swoons and you sense her emotions, as though you were her in the autumn of your childhood, being caught by him during a chase, surrounded by pumpkins and apples. The emotions she felt when she looked at him more differently than she ever did in her lifetime and realized that she wants to marry him and have a baby with him. 

That undreamed dream came true. And somehow that is healing her. Somehow, that allows her to rest peacefully, having drawn her last breath. 

Taehyung kisses your chin. And kisses her goodbye at the same time. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” 

You shake your head. “The doctor asks you at the five month check-up if you want to know the gender, but because you weren’t with me, I didn’t want to. My next check-up is next week, though. We can find out together.” 

You expect him to smile at that, but Taehyung frowns, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry you had to go to these check-ups all alone. I’ll go with you this time, baby.” 

The anguish you had buried in yourself deep resurfaces. Maybe that is one of the reasons why you were so delirious in October. You had to go through the final stage to adulthood all by yourself, abandoned. 

Something tells you to tell him, but shame holds you back, twisting your tongue. You furrow your brows, breaking free of the amorous eye contact you had with Taehyung, and he immediately catches onto the shadowed side of your emotions. 

He grasps it into his hand, like he so very often grips your hair. “What’s wrong?” 

You bite your lip, still looking away. “Did Jimin tell you anything about the day you were supposed to have your vacation?” 

There’s an interlude between his response and you glance at him to see him drifting through the library of his memories. With furrowed brows, just like your own. 

“I only spoke to Jimin once and he asked me if my commander allowed me to have his vacation. That’s how I found out he was willing to give it up for me, but I didn’t know why,” he says, lifting his head from the myriads of life-records, uncertainty and confusion covering his eyes. “But I didn’t get his vacation. My commander gave me a reward vacation because of what I did in the north. Why did Jimin want to give up his vacation for me?” 

The shame inches closer, scratching your back, but for your baby, you shake it away. Decide to tell him because you trust him and because you can tell him anything without the fear of prejudice. 

“Because I went mad on that day,” you start, straight and flat. Taehyung widens his eyes, but then his brows lower down, as if they were saying, excuse me? Anger eclipses his face, one that feels safe, though. “I imagined you being here with me. I planned this fun day with you and Jimin, taking you on a walk through the park on the way to the jazz club, where you kissed me for the first time. I wanted to tell you about the baby. Jimin was supposed to honor you for your mission in the north by singing, but I ruined everything. Nobody saw you when I saw you very clearly… until I didn’t.”

Pensiveness smooths out over his anger that boils, quietly. And once again, like Paris in your dream, he doesn’t say anything at all. He contemplates the information you’ve given him and the patterns he’d been engraving into your back reach their end, no longer circling on their own without his assistance. 

“Why didn’t he tell me any of this?” he asks, keeping his voice low, so his anger doesn’t touch you. “I should've known…” 

There was no contact between you and him for the two months he was on his mission, and phone calls were forbidden. It seems as though he’s dwelling on this fact as he doesn’t finish his sentence, rooting his eyesight on your lips, absentmindedly. 

Jimin said one month, but he was wrong. 

North is brutal. Too, too brutal. 

Thank God Taehyung came out unscathed. 

Another interlude of foreign, but not entirely uncanny silence settles in between and, blinking rapidly, Taehyung sighs. Brushes your hair back one last time before he takes your hands in his. A gesture of absolute genuineness, a foreshadowing to his following words. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his voice throaty. “I’m sorry for not being here. I’m sorry for being so far away. And I’m sorry our dream came true when I have to be away.” 

His pity cuts through you, reminiscent of your dream, and you realize that the pity you felt in that other world wasn’t yours. It was his, and the element of the inability to speak was the principle of him not being here and not being able to react. It’s all connected—your dream told you about his return and about his feelings. And you felt them because you’re a part of him, carrying his child. 

You soften, seized by it all, and you hide your face in his neck, fading into him. “It’s okay. You’re here now. Maybe it was supposed to happen now. We both changed, didn’t we? We grew up.” 

He forces you to look at him and the pity on his face breaks you. The rose petals in his cheeks died, the smooth surface now swirls with pallidness once again. His brown pools are glossy with the depth of that emotion, millions of words swimming in them. He can’t say them, he can’t catch up to them, and when he closes his eyes, presses his forehead against yours and sighs, you’re aware of how hard this is for him. 

You had five months to come to terms with this star-crossed situation. He’s barely had an hour. 

“I want to be here for you. I want to help you. I don’t want to leave you alone with the baby,” he murmurs against you, squeezing your hands to make you understand how much this means to him, and you allow the wall, which you had built up along with Jimin to keep your mind and your emotions safe, to collapse, completely. Fresh tears drip down your cheeks, your chin trembling. “Have you had any morning sickness?” 

You nod, recollecting your first nausea in the first trimester when Jimin was still around. “Yes, it started when Jimin was here. He was there for me. Until he had to go back to Korea.” 

A war flashes on his face and, right away, he lets you know which side has won. “I want to be here for you, not Jimin. Do you understand me?” 

You open your mouth in shock because you still, faithfully, remember the words he spoke to you in your imagination. Jimin is cute, but he’s strong and sane enough to protect you while I’m gone. And with shock comes the realization that the chapter ends. It is the final puzzle piece, the last enlightenment you needed—because in reality, Taehyung didn’t say those words. Taehyung didn’t give his blessing for Jimin to take care of you in his absence. Your own ego did. 

Taehyung mistakens your silence and your comprehension of that for displeasure, and he clicks his tongue in regret, sighing your name. 

“I’m glad Jimin was there for you, don’t get me wrong, but I just wish it was me. Who knows if I ever get a chance to be your partner in this again,” he spills out, truthfully, and watches as another rivulet of tears trickles down your face. He wipes them away, blinking his own away, too. “I want to rub your back, baby. I want to watch your belly grow big. I want to tie your shoes, bring you food and buy baby clothes with you. I don’t want Jimin to do that because it’s my job. It’s my duty.” 

You understood him then and you understand him now. Agree with him as that truth anchors in your heart. Jimin was kind to do what he did and you’re grateful for it. Without him, you’d be roaming in your delusions. And Taehyung needs to know that he helped you with that first and foremost. 

“Jimin wasn’t my partner in that, Taehyung,” you croak out, inhaling deeply so your sentences flow out better. “I agree with you that it’s your job and I also want it to be you. But what Jimin did was save me from my own mind. I was lost without you, pregnant and alone, and he kept those delusions far away from me. I needed that. I needed a friend.” 

Taehyung nods, understanding, caressing your tear-stained face. The color percolates back to his cheeks, little by little. And you can see a weight being lifted off his shoulders. 

Calmness expands in your sternum. 

“I will give him my thanks for that,” he settles, kissing your temple, leaving his lips there, against that intimate place. “You won’t be left alone with your mind again. I’ll try my hardest to be there for you, to keep in touch. I’ll talk to my commander. I’ll do anything. But I promise you won’t have those delusions again because you’ll be busy with me.” 

The last tears that surge out are of relief and you hug him, squeeze him in gratitude. “Thank you, Taehyung. I love you.” 

He sinks his fingers into the patterns he engraved into your back, rocking you side to side in that embrace, his lips by your ear. “I love you, baby. I’ll buy you a big house. We’ll go on a shopping spree next week and get all the things the little one needs. I’ll take care of you both.” 

You kiss him and in the middle of that expression of affection, the baby kicks again. Taehyung feels it against his own tummy and he grins and laughs into the kiss, lifting you up with utmost ease and setting your feet down on the carpet near the record player by the wall. 

And the music he begins to play isn’t of the jazz kind he loves so much. He put down a vinyl that bears Billie Eilish’s face and when Halley’s Comet sounds out throughout the bedroom, he takes your hand and drifts on the carpet with you. 

Not under the brown, dimmed lights of the jazz club, but under the yellow lights of the bedroom where you reached the beginning journey of your adulthood. And now as you dance with him, pregnant with his baby, you feel as much as an adult as a human can possibly feel like one. 

The final stage. 

Everything changes with this song. 

Halley’s Comet comes around more than I do…

Taehyung doesn’t come often, but he’s here now. Big and buff, cinnamon, apples and pumpkin. The boy you loved turned into a man that you love even more. 

From a baby boy friend to a baby Daddy. 

And as he looks down into your eyes, he asks you what names you want to give to the baby. And you whisper it to him, letting yourself be led into a dance of adulthood. 

“Perfect,” he whispers back, kissing you and staying there for as long as he needs, for as long as you need because you grip his shoulder with all your might, afraid to let him go. 

Because after he piles up your apartment with the crib, the stroller, the high chair, the diapers and so many non-colorful baby clothes that you need another set of furniture, he has to leave again. And you cry so hard that you can’t get any words out. But Taehyung hears them. He hears them in the hundreds of kisses you exchange and he hears them in the last hug you give him and in the last goodbye you say to him. 

And he comes back on May 29th, bigger and more buff than he was, prepared to be a Daddy. Spends the day moving into the new house he bought you with Jimin as his help and no one else. Paints the baby’s room pink because you’re having a baby girl that he grew his muscles for to protect her. 

His commander gave him a special leave and forbade him from coming back and finishing his service. Apparently, the man himself has five children and four grandchildren. Is a softie when it comes to them. 

And when Taehyung is done with the house and sits with you on your new couch, he announces it to the baby girl. Your home is ready, little one. You can come out now. And he laughs so hard that the delightful sound pulses through the walls, taking a sip of his soda. 

And she does come out the next day, sharing the same number of her birth date with her Daddy. Taehyung holds your hand, as calm as the spring wind, as you push her out. Breathes with you, guides you, controls your inhales and exhales. Keeps his lips pressed against your temple—and he purses his lips against the same spot on the baby girl’s head once he holds her. 

And Taehyung looks at you, and you look at him. Joyful tears fall, in tandem, with his. 

And the happy event repeats two years later. What Taehyung feared the most didn’t come true. He watched your belly grow with his second child while holding the hand of the first. He rubbed your back while you threw up the breakfast he had learned to make for you. He tied your shoes when you couldn’t bend down due to your large bump, his daughter standing beside him, watching his every move, learning about love from him. And he bought colorful clothes for the baby with its gender already in mind. 

Blue, brown, green and beige. 

A baby boy for the baby girl. A reversed picture of you and him, growing together. 

And as your babies grow together, you grow old with Taehyung, too. 

And he never leaves. Never again. 

And he buys you tulips of all colors every single week, whose sweet scent the children inhale and whose pink hues color their cheeks. And they play with Uncle Jimin until he brings them cousins to utterly fall in love with.

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

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | read part one

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.