#dramamamama

[gay-for-thirteen]

I bet 50 bucks and my cactus that one of the toymakers kids will be a celestial storyteller / drama / theatre being

Like they know their target audience are gays, you know who else is gay? Theatre kids

[techtechonmymind]

kibum 🤝 ten

perfect mini albums that end with a song idc about lol

[2xcursekissed]

"you were going to leave without saying goodbye?" //i'm thinking for right before he leaves to go train with miguel

question prompts | accepting

yuuta answers the door with a smile, greeting Maki with a bright "hey" as he usually would. it is maki, after all. she is one of the closest friends he had—how could he not take any moment to greet her with anything but the warmest smile?

"you were going to leave without saying goodbye?"

the corner of his lips immediately downturn when he notices her expression. she had wasted no time and got straight to the point. it's accusatory and edged—something yuuta didn't like being on the receiving end of. there's a pause as he bows his head. yuuta's not usually one to avoid eye contact when it comes to maki, or any of his friends, but he finds that he is unable to look at her, his eyes instead focusing on a spec of dirt on the floor. one hand grips the side of his pants while the other hovers over its spot on the door knob.

he feels like a deer in front of headlights—caught in action—the scene behind him only further proof that maki was, in fact, right. with the door wide open, he's sure she can see the disarray in his room: clothes and essentials sloppily placed over his suitcase on the floor. he's sure maki got her answer.

he wasn't exactly not planning on telling any of his classmates, but it slipped his mind and he continuously waited until the right moment came. it never did. his flight was tomorrow and he figured maybe he'd slip it in in the morning during breakfast. it wasn't anything huge—it was a mission like any other, he had rationalized with himself. he'd be away for a few months sure, but nothing too bad, he thought. he's not sure why it came with guilt, but the guilt only doubles as he can feel maki's stare burn through him.

he can only take a step back and scratch at the back of his hair. it's uncomfortable, but he knows he has to say something eventually. with a subtle shake of his head, he finally speaks up, "i— uh, no. i was going to tell you tomorrow."

he swallows thickly. "i guess you found out before that," he adds, his voice going smaller with each word as he braces himself for any sort of reaction from her.

[weoris]

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JUNGWON — CONNECTED MELODIES. ❪ SMAU ❫ 011 | BRO-CODE BROKEN!

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[lamemaster]

Songs of Heart- Spring

Pairing: Turgon x Reader x Fingon (hehe)

Genre: Dramamamama and Angsssst

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Had you known better, you would have never looked his way. You would have shielded your eyes from his. Yet, despite the lament, you are certain that you would have done it. You would have betrayed yourself even with the foreknowledge of your destruction.

Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer | Epilogue

AN: narrative is a mess but it's saucy. Slight NSFW

Reader

Fingon’s death hurts more than you expected. Perhaps, in some unspoken way, the bond between you both had lingered, despite the coldness of your marriage.

Tears come when they bring his body to the camp. You sob. He was once your friend. Your husband. And now he’s dead, leaving you burdened with the sins you committed against him—sins you never sought forgiveness for.

You wonder if you’re allowed to mourn someone you never truly loved. If your neglect over the ages grants you the right to shed tears for the man now gone. Gone, without one last tender word or even a bitter, reconciliatory gesture.

The threads that once bound you to him are frayed, beyond repair.

It feels as though the kingdom of your childhood games has come to life, as though you’re back in those times when Turgon played the king, you the queen, and Ecthelion the knight. It’s easier to fool yourself in this way.

The grief of fading would be a welcome reprieve. You would have let the winds unravel the seams that hold you together—if not for the life pulsing within your belly. A secret well kept. A secret the world will soon see in the coming months.

Fingon

Your trembling hands tug his collar pulling him lower to your height. The tightness of it, constricting his throat. His face heats up in the company of his soldiers who fall quiet at the scene. You stand in front of him with rage-ridden eyes that bleed through unstopping tears. 

But all this fails to hurt. Instead, Fingon finds his heart leap at your enraged sight. He takes in your unkempt hair, your matted braids, ruffled robes, and the redness under your eyes. 

“Have you lost your mind Fingon?!” Your words tremble with a scratched up voice. Your hands wrap around his face. “Why?” You whisper with a weary sob. “Why must you break me in such a manner?”

Despite the instant protests and rationale on the tip of his tongue, Fingon withholds it from you. Instead, he basks in the devastation of his absence on you. Tears and fear that you have festered for his sake. And he is filled with joy. 

For the first time in months, his lips find themselves lifting into a smile. His heart shuddered with relief. The consolation of knowing that your heart had not forsaken him. There lingers love, despite his acts. Beyond right and wrong, you love him still. If not love, you may someday return to loving him. 

The grief and grime of Angbad is now a fleeting thought. After weeks of loathing and misery, he has you. This, he considers his blessing. An act of Eru of returning you to him. 

“Answer me!” You shake him. “Have you no love for living? Are you so eager to follow your uncle to the Halls of Mandos?” You glare at him in a manner that might have worried him once, but in the present it is a welcome change from the void of a frayed bond. 

Wrapping his arms around you, he plops down falling asleep on the spot. Uncaring of his soldiers or anyone who happened to walk upon the scene. His eyes glazed into a slumber, he denied himself. His hands still bloodied with Maedhros’ blood wrapped around your waist smearing the red onto your gown. 

Reader

You were on your way out after tucking Idril into bed when it happened. He appeared before you, without warning, his eyes catching yours in the empty hallway. Turgon stood tall, every bit the king of Gondolin—every bit of your childish dream, now brought to life.

It was as if time itself had reversed, and you were both back in the radiant halls of Tirion, hidden away in the cherished corners of your childhood home.

“Turukáno,” you whispered his name in Quenya, the language of home. His eyes widened in shock, as though hearing his name was a miracle—as though a name alone could heal tragedies and rotting souls.

But you believed him, as you always had. In an instant, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed to yours. His hands clawed at you, desperate to cling to the fleeting pieces this moment of weakness offered. Greed surged through you, a deep-rooted hunger to take everything he offered, to hold onto him for just a little while longer.

His hands roamed hungrily over your body, slipping through the silks and belts that fell away without protest. In what seemed like no time, you found yourself in his chamber, gazing up at the ceiling painted with the image of the Two Trees, once thought lost to time.

Poised between your legs, he looked at you for permission. As if you could ever deny him. As if you hadn’t been drowning in the need for this very moment, for him.

Beyond Fëanor’s oath, Fingolfin’s loyalty, beyond the looming darkness that awaited you both—this doom was yours to choose. After eons of rotting from the inside out, you allowed your ugliness, your deepest self, to be laid bare before Turgon.

There was no resentment for his abandonment, no guilt for your betrayal of his brother. In this moment, you were simply yourself. Not a wife, not a sister, not a daughter-in-law or an aunt. Just you. And Turgon accepted that, as he always had.

Hours later, as the first light of dawn crept in, you found him again. This time, he was lost to the land of Irmo, his arms holding you snugly against him under the image of the Two Trees. You basked in the warmth of his embrace, if only for a fleeting moment.

Gathering your clothes, you dressed in the stillness of the room. Lost in the haze of pleasure, your mind had yet to welcome the onslaught of guilt, loathing, and shame—but that too would come. They were the most familiar of your states of being.

Yet, this time, there was something else: a restlessness, an unease, mingled with nervousness and anticipation. Days later, soaking in the warmth of a bath, you felt it—a flutter, a flicker of life. The existence of a joy you hadn’t known in ages.

And so it came to be—the fall of the eldest daughter-in-law of Nolofinwë. In the coming months, you became a widow, expecting the child of her husband’s brother.

A child who could never have been sired by Fingon, the High King—who died without ever reuniting with his estranged wife—was sent to Gondolin, entrusted to the care of his niece, Idril.

Talk of the town and a tale still told in hushed whispers to this very day.

The tale of Gil-galad’s origin.

Idril

“Love cannot be all black and white,” Tuor countered the princess.

The said princess huffed in annoyance. “Is it then a stranger to honor, loyalty, and shame?”

Her gaze drifted to the child running through the corridors of her home—the child who bore her father’s eyes and smile. Her half-brother. Half-brothers, the curse of the Finwë line.

While most bowed their heads and addressed Gil-galad as the son of Fingon, the late High King whose shadow still haunted her father, Idril saw it differently. She found joy in it.

The hardness in her father’s eyes whenever her half-brother endearingly called him "uncle" was a sight she would share with her mother, when Eru finally reunited them. Idril was determined to ensure her father never fully accepted his role as Gil-galad’s father.

“Cousin, come here, will you?” she called with a false cheer, scooping up the elfling into her arms. Idril turned back to Tuor, her voice edged with irony. “You’re right—it truly isn’t black and white, is it?”

Turgon

Turgon gets to see his son an hour after he is born. Holding the little babe in his arms his face fills with pride. For the first time since the day he has stepped on this land, Turgon smiles. 

His son twitches in his sleep. His tiny fists reach up in the air as the elfling sighs in his sleep. Turgon can feel your gaze on him. For hours he strained his ears from his study, listening for your groans of pain. He hadn’t accomplished anything that day. His heart had been to tumultuous. 

He should have been there, to hold your hand. He has seen the pain before, he had been there for Elenwe. He had held her close, wiped her sweat, and whispered sweet words to her. And Idril, his darling daughter, had been so kind to her mother. Her labor barely stretched an hour before Turgon held her wailing little self in his arms.

But to you, he could not give any such comfort. All he had given you was this heartbreak, pain, and infamy. 

For months you bore his daughter’s rage, his court’s snark while keeping your head low. All the while, he continued to be the king. 

Now alone in the room with you, and his son, Turgon finally summons the courage to offer whatever little can. He sits next to you, holding your hand between his. “Artanaro,” he whispered to the elfling. His name that bears the name of the light of Elbereth. 

Gil-Galad, he came to be known in the tongue of Middle Earth. 

Ecthelion

Here's the passage with the additional lines seamlessly integrated:

Ecthelion returned from patrol to find his sister asleep in his private parlor, draped over the sofa like a cat napping in the winter sun. As he stood there, he noticed the lines of weariness on her face and the subtle frown that had become a constant companion. When had it appeared? Fingon’s death? Mandos’s doom? The fall of Gondolin?

They had once been happy—he, his sister, and their cousin Findarato. Long ago in Valinor, he remembered their smiles and scowls during playful sibling banter.

He had chosen duty, followed his lord. On the shores of Alqualondë, when you stood next to Aunt Eärwen, it wasn't for Fingon, Turgon, or even Finrod. You had come to these shores for him. He had known it the moment you looked at him.

You followed no lord but your brother. And that had led you here.

Ecthelion gently placed his satchel in the corner before covering you with a blanket. He would not leave you alone here. If the king failed to protect his sister, as his brother Fingon had failed, then he would. Ecthelion would not abandon you—neither in Valinor nor in Middle-earth.

[elliot-rambles]

what music do you like? as specifically or unspecifically as you want ʕ ᵔᴥᵔ ʔ and how are you specifically or not?

/genq /lh /nf

omg I love soooo many songs it's insaneeee 😭 my music taste is literally everywhere, but I do have some favorites! pakete whero (maori song) ngoi ngoi (another maori song) space girl (Frances forever) (no its not a mitski reference get outta here with allat) cover girl (rupaul) (good god am i addicted to watching drag race)

drama (aespa) (DRAMAMAMA BRING DAT DRAMAMAMAMA)

[miru-has-thoughts]

I'm sorry....has Damian been listening to Drama by Aespa cause why he calling everybody out, instigating and loving all the mess

That's our chismoso campeón 💅🏽

He really took that I bring I bring all that dramamamama so seriously 😭🤣

[tadc-confessions]

mgl hate those theories of like "who's gonna abstract next"

Bc if we're following a pattern I doubt anyone's gonna abstract for atleast a while

Also I'm making media and it's really stupid to kill of characters before we get to see alot about them unless you find a smart way to do that after death

Like I see ppl saying ragatha or smt is gonna abstract next

Like no- she's a important character to the plot and probably provides a important role for pomni (our main character) so shes not gonna die anytime soon, not saying she's safe but saying she's not gonna go atleast until the end

And if I see another person saying gangle is gonna abstract ima loose it, you don't abstract from just being depressed and bipolar (from what we know) it's when your on the brink of Insanity and you go to your limit

Anyways sorry for my rant lol not hate

dw abt the rant,,

also those theories are mostly just people who want someone dramamamama in the show like it doesn’t have enough

tbh i’ll just read them for fun and then if it contradicts a hc i’m just like ‘oh well’ because it’s never canon

[itstokkii]

i bring all the dramamamama

[opanchu]

I bring I bring all the dramamamama I bring dramamamama with my girls in the back girls in the back drama traumamamama I break traumamamama with my world in the back naro sijakdoeneun drama

[winwintea]

NO PLS JAEHYUN?????? THE MOMENT YN SEES HIM SHE'LL TURN INTO THE MURDERER HERSELF BC WTF???

now, i got a question for you, ms. london my baby pookie... if yn is a good detective and (supposedly) has a good team, why don't they just track this unknown number' location?

guys im literally aespa irl i bring all the dramamamama

YES MY DEAR

good observation !!! expected nothing less from my pookie... there is an answer to your question, but unfortunately i cannot answer it. it's not because there's no reason, in fact there is a reason, but it's up for you to guess why that hasn't happened yet.

[kamiversee]

geto approaching the table GRRR BARRRKKK WOOF. i feel like he’s gnna stir up drama and why am i lowkey HERE FOR ITTTTTT.

Also i adore possessive choso…its kindaaaaaaaa….AND YUKI??? sorry but she drives me insane she’s so fine like…yuki pls pick me, choose me !!

AND ALSO THE WAY SUKUNA ACTS. like sorry id acc fall for him

him saying ‘wrong whore’ on the call reminds me of this one screenshot where someone asks a guy if he has other girlfriends and he goes ‘yeah. but why don’t you focus on being my favourite one’ N THAT JUST GIVES ME SUKUNA ENERGYYY

Anyway the latest chapters were chefs kiss i loved them SOO much i can’t wait to see what happens next !! ^-^

ALL THE DRAMAMAMAMA I BRING DRAMAMAMA🗣️‼️🔥 sorry I genuinely cant help but but out into song bc of certain words😭

Yuki’s mine guys back off 🤺🤺🤺

IKR SUKUNA IS SOOOO😩😩 I’d lowk maybe tht man too ngl like he wants me SOOO bad

[jaerontaemo]

231228 — Taeyong bbl update

Today I was originally going to film a tiktok but my knee suddenly started hurting so much …

So kkyu ~

A picture instead

Dramamamama (drama by aespa)

I was able to do it well because they taught me so well.

[octoariadneeeeexoxo]

i bring i bring all the dramamamamama i bring dramamamama with my girls in the back girls in the back drama

[lamemaster]

Songs of Heart- Winter

Pairing: Turgon x Reader x Fingon (hehe)

Genre: Dramamamama and Angsssst

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Had you known better, you would have never looked his way. You would have shielded your eyes from his. Yet, despite the lament, you are certain that you would have done it. You would have betrayed yourself even with the foreknowledge of your destruction.

Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer | Epilogue

Turukano

Before the ice even groaned and fractured, his hand finds yours…It happens faster than anything. Instinct. He has to hold on to the one his heart can't let go.

He watches your eyes widen as his fingers interlace with yours, pulling you back from the freezing depths that gaped open beneath your feet. A common peril in treacherous Helcaraxe.

No fate has managed to sever the affection he holds for you. It simmers under the veil you both wear. His marriage to Elenwe, yours to Findekano, fails to mask what thrums like a forgotten spring amidst the winter's despair.

 The warmth of holding your hand, a forgotten comfort, momentarily pushes back the despair of Helcaraxe.

He held this hand once, free of guilt, fear of rejection, or the shackles of forbidden bonds. Turukano fears your resentment. He has evaded your eyes for too long, the one who lets go first. He leaves you to find solace with your family.

Just as he steadies your steps, another crack echoes through the air. Behind him, a band of elves vanishes into the unforgiving water. Grief for the lost echoes in his heart, but his world narrows to you. You are safe. You are here. Away from his brother, a dark voice whispers in his mind.

But this is a comfort he allows himself. Just a sliver of the past that he has hidden from all.

It takes Turukano a precious minute to decipher the panicked look in your eyes and understand the choked scream that tears from your lips as you lunge for the water.

 Instinctively, he holds you back. His brow furrows at your actions. He has to save you. Everything else will fall into place.

"-we"

"Sa-e-nwe"

Your words barely reach him before he sees the last fading glimpse of golden hair disappear beneath the churning water.

 "Elenwe!" Your scream fills his ears, and a horrifying realization crashes down on him.

Findekano

Love blooms in Findekano's heart the moment he hears your laughter. All his reservations about marrying for political gain or the resentment of becoming the bait for his father’s elaborate plans of bringing family along shatter the minute he hears the trills of your laughter.

It is a beautifully delicate thing. In the early days of your courtship, he seeks to gain your favor. He treasures it. Your mirth is the truth of how well you fit with him, how his humor sparks your laughter.

His fondness for you only grows since the bond of your marriage unites you for eternity. How radiant you were beneath him, your hair spread out, your cheeks rosy with passion, your hands pulling him closer.

The next day, you seamlessly integrate with his family. You organize tea parties for his mother, bake Arakáno's favorite snacks, and take Irissë and Ektelion on outings together. You sing songs and poems to Turukano's daughter, even taking night shifts to care for her and give Elenwe a rest. Even Nolofinwe, the frowning stern father-in-law, is not spared from the warmth of the knitted socks you leave in his office. Your every action is for him and his people. You become an inseparable part of him.

You brighten Findekano's life.

When peril looms, you stand by him, packing your belongings while helping him cradle his entire life for the flight led by his uncle.

You follow him, even in tears as you bid your parents a farewell for what seems like forever. That day, for the first time, Findekano becomes the reason for your tears. That day, he pledges to return to you what he takes from you.

Deep into the march towards Alqualonde, his eyes find themselves drawn back to where you stand next to your cousin Findarato and Ektelion. He forces his mind to ease, though it doesn't quite listen. Turukano is there, so you must be safe. He has to allow you this moment of comfort, and for once, he cannot be the one to give it.

So Findekano rushes to keep up with his father. He trusts you with his ever-reliable brother by your side. 

You both always find your way back to each other. So it will be again.

The next time he meets your gaze, his cheek stings from your stinging slap. Your eyes are red-rimmed with unshed tears. Your hair is disarrayed, at the mercy of the agitated sea breeze. And Findekano finds his eyes evading yours as the madness leaves him gasping on the bloodied shore of Alqualonde.

Surrounded by the bodies of your kin, Findekano witnesses your hatred for the first time. Your words blur into receding rage before he catches the ends of your sentence:

"-never show me this wretched face of yours." The words carve themselves into the bond

He watches you turn and crouch beside a wailing Earwen. In that fleeting moment, a terrifying realization dawns on him: your abandonment. He fears you abandoning him more than the piled-up bodies around him. Yet, it settles like an inevitable truth.

Hours ago, he had no doubt of his place by your side, or the fate that brought you together. But now, a chasm lies where once there was hope.

Your hatred feels more tangible than the love he once believed in. As if all that was once truth had been nothing but his hopeful desire.

Huddled with your sobbing aunt and cousins, you seem further away than ever before. Your bond, which he once considered his truth, shatters into pieces – so brittle, as if it had been a dream all along.

His eyes wander to where you are. Even in his heartbreak, Findekano remains tethered to you. He drops the sword his failing arms can't hold and instructs a guard to hand you his water flask. You would accept it from him, so he'll find another way.

Reader

You stood next to Findarato. That's all it amounted to. That was the only reason you let Findekano lead the troop ahead while you stayed behind. And if Turukano happened to be in the same place, it was merely a coincidence.

You walked beside your brother Ektelion, who had earlier in the march sworn loyalty to Turukano. It was easy to forget your title as the eldest daughter-in-law of the House of Nolofinwe when surrounded by the memories of your childhood.

 Even in the dark and gloom of loss, your heart found a strange peace in the oblivion of the responsibilities that had thrust themselves upon you.

That was before you held your sobbing aunt in an embrace. Or witnessed the bloodshed of your kin. So much blood. The sight that greeted you was as if a vicious stroke of a painter's carelessness had smudged everything in red.

But your world had shrunk to your kin. Your cousins, Findarato, Artanis, Angaráto, and Aikanáro, huddled next to your aunt. It had been a mercy of Illuvatar to spare your father of this sight.

You didn't know how you would ever face him again. How would you ever tell him about your inaction while your kin were slain? How could you confess that you stood frozen, watching your husband slaughter your uncles and aunts?

Lost in these thoughts, you joined the returning party with the new High King, Arafinwe. The decision was clear. You wouldn't follow those who stained their hands with your kin's blood.

That was what you thought before your eyes landed on Ektelion. In your mind, he too was to return with you. You both would return with Findarato and the others, beg for the Valar's and the Teleri's forgiveness.

 There had to be some way to make amends. Your presence and Ektelion's would be needed at Alqualonde. You could help rebuild…your father would need you by his side. Findarato could aid at Lorien. Yes, this would mend things for the best. Supporting your aunt, you planned everything, ready to bring it up to your uncle.

Yet, your brother was nowhere to be found near Aunty Earwen or the retreating faction of the Noldor. You searched for him, a sudden dread gripping your heart. He had been safe before, his sword unmarked by the violence on the shores.

And when your eyes found him, it wasn't your brother you saw, but a soldier. Standing next to the looming figure of Turukano was Ektelion, not by your side, but by his lord. Duty had proven stronger than the bond of your marriage to Findekano.

So it was with Findarato, Artanis, Angaráto, and Aikanáro. Your cousins, your brother, and the love of your life stood opposite the retreating party you had joined. A declaration that rang loud to your dismayed aunt, the grieving Teleri, and the new High King. The Noldor were no longer a united front.

The shores of Alqualonde became a chasm, splitting them into those under Arafinwe's leadership on one end and Curufinwe's on the other. 

Ages later, the question would still haunt you: what if you had walked the path back home? It would have saved many, the misery of your wretched fate.

Turukano perhaps would have led a life with Elenwe by his side. Itarillë would have grown up with a mother. Findekano would not have died with a heart of stone.

But this was your misery. Your redemption. To mull over the what-ifs. It was the price to be paid for your greed. Your selfish love that drove you to the lands that once doomed your ancestors.

[shimkongz04]

💬 can you sing drama 🐱 DRAMAx3 🐱 *singing* i bring all that dramamamama drama 🐶 ah good job 🐱 yeah 🐶 aiyu good job

Cr. shimkongzip

Cr. dalxhu (video)