#to everyone is able to finally support me

[from-izzy]

be fair | nct park jisung

"You're not bringing us down. You're not bringing anybody down," Jisung shakes his head hurriedly. "I promise. We'll take this step by step remember?"

pairing » nct park jisung x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au, implied friends to lovers

genre » fluffy fluff with a little hint of angst, hurt/comfort for the reader, supportive and patient boyfriend jisung, jisung who just wants to treat you right, also shy but sometimes confident (?) jisung

word count; estimated reading time » 1650; ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » mentions of a toxic past relationship (reader), jisung implied to be taller, rapid proofread once

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

based on this request! thank you for sending it in anon and i'm sorry it took a while for me to write 😭 i hope you (and everyone else!) enjoys this one!!

The romantic season has finally started, and that also means that sweet treat of early leave that you applied for at the start of the year. You're keen on using the leave to spend more quality time with your loved ones, especially your boyfriend Park Jisung.

From the introduction from mutual friends, you've known Jisung for a long time. Long enough for him to know your favourite drink and your comfort food. Long enough for him to send you cute hamster videos, and comfortable enough for you to reply with a "That's you!" to which Jisung reacts to the message with a blushing emoji; his face perfectly depicted that emoji too.

The exchanges became pretty limited when you got into a relationship. Yes, Jisung is glad you were able to fall in love, but the dried tears on your face whenever he catches a glimpse of you make him feel otherwise. The one-year toxic relationship would continue for a few more months. Some of your friends were understandably frustrated with how you wouldn’t leave, and despite explaining that words aren't easily acted out, the stress only made your room swallow your sobs even more. In the end, when things were better, you confronted all and cut off some.

The reality is that, we could always be prepared for something, and give others advice but when it happens to us, the world stops. Rational thinking may follow after. At that time, you need to surround yourself with healthy and supportive people. That’s who how Park Jisung is to you.

Jisung really did take care of you, every step of the way. Whether it was sending groceries to our house, sending daily affirmations, and despite his lack of experience and nervousness, helping you draft an email to your boss for a short break to take care of yourself. He's open to telling you that he's not sure what to do, but through simple communication, Jisung was the key for you to escape your toxic ex-boyfriend, and the dreadful aftermath of the relationship. That relationship was ages ago, and now you're happily in a relationship with Jisung for a month.

"Ah," Jisung pouts at the reminder. "You're bringing that up again?"

"I can't help it!" You chuckle at your date who takes another spoonful of his soup, adjusting his scarf after to hide his blushing cheeks. "You said I was hot like soup and then confessed right after!"

If the table could come alive and swallow Jisung up, he would appreciate that very much. "But I really did mean it! You've always been hot but that day you were just, you know...amazing and beautiful...I couldn’t help but say my thoughts…"

Every time you bought this up, Jisung would always become flustered. Just like every other time, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flare, his eyes smile but look away from yours, and sometimes his speech stutters due to his racing heart. But this time, maybe it's the heart-shaped decoration by the entrance of the sore, the roses in the middle of the table, or the way that Jisung called this a date. The environment is bustling but not in the sharp clanging of cutlery on porcelain, but the laughter that wraps the both of you in a loving embrace. 

Last month, as Jisung delivered his feelings for you smoothly like the ice cream in your hands, your gaze on him softened. You doubt it was the ice cream that spread warmth through your chest and your cheeks. You’ve realised your growing feelings for him throughout the past year, but never dared to speak up; not after your relationship even though you know Jisung is nothing like your ex. Your love for Jisung grows after each date, after each brush against his skin and the kisses he places all over your features. Everything that Jisung did in your presence, reminds you that your feelings for him are reciprocated.

"I thought we agreed that I would pay next," sulking at the fact that you lost the credit card battle once more.

"There will always be a next time," pressing a quick peck on your lips.

Jisung's words have always seemed so confident, but just like the soup from dinner earlier, you're sure that the redness across his cheeks isn't from the cool weather. Even with thick winter gloves, you can feel Jisung's hold like you both were skin-to-skin as you walk along the illuminated footpath from open stores. You talk about everything that came up in your mind, taking turns to nod when Jisung does with yours. Your words are always safe with him, the same way his words are safe with you. Your stories continue to be shared, but it wasn't overbearing; not like how you were treated in your past relationship.

Similarly, Jisung loves to tell you about his day, and coo about the two birds leaning against each other not too far away. Jisung loves to go into detail on the things you talked about on text, all the while observing the windows of the shops for things you liked. You fall in love with his voice which pulls you back into the present whenever your mind drifts somewhere else. Whenever those times hit, Jisung has picked up on some things: the glimmers in your eyes fade, your fingers grow weaker or stronger around his, and your hums would be monotonic and randomise between the middle of his sentences instead of the end.

You're habituated to the shoes shuffling on the gravel, so when you stop, you immediately turn your head to Jisung who's a step behind you. Your eyes widen and your lips tremble at the realisation that you missed parts of his stories.

Your heart drops at your actions. I'm sor-"

"Are you alright?" He interjected. Your hands untangle from his as Jisung fixes your scarf. "Don't want you getting cold," lifting the material to cover your lips and chin better. His eyes resemble a smile when he's satisfied with the adjustment and he rests his palms on your shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm just thinking again," eyes downcasted to your shoes that pointed to his.

"No, it's okay," your boyfriend reassures. "I love listening to your voice. I can never get enough of it."

"Really? I just don't want you to feel like you have to listen to all these things because you really don’t have to-"

"But I love it," he cuts you off once more. Jisung slips a glove off, his palm cupping your chilly cheek. Your head tilts, meeting the reflecting Christmas lights behind you, and how clear your reflection from his orbs. "I love hearing all this because that means you trust me and are comfortable with me telling me all these things."

"Of course, I am, Ji," placing emphasis on the affirmative words. "I just hate how you've always treated me right from the start but I keep on doing this thing where my mind goes to the past and I just bring us down and-"

"You're not bringing us down. You're not bringing anybody down," Jisung shakes his head hurriedly. "I promise. We'll take this step by step remember?"

You focus on the soothing glides that his thumb did on your cheekbones, closing your eyes to savour the gentleness. Jisung steps closer to you, wrapping your body with his arms. His deep tone soothes your mind, and you place an ear to where his steady heart is. All the negative thoughts subside slowly, but surely.

"What you went through was scary, bubs," he whispers, "and I don't expect you to just get over it. You're allowed to be scared."

"But it's not fair on you, Sung..."

"What's not fair is you thinking that it's not fair.” A tear or two escapes your eyes, and your lips shudder at the sincerity of his voice. Your hand lifts, only to clasp onto the hem of his jacket. Jisung guides your breathing, messaging his fingers onto your scalp reassuringly. “You’re not being fair to anyone if you act like nothing happened. I want you to always be open with me, okay? I want to support you. Always.”

“Okay,” your answer comes out hushed, and you’re worried that Jisung didn’t hear it. 

You lift your head from his chest, intending to repeat your answer to make sure it gets across. But all words halted when Jisung’s lips fell upon your forehead dearly. The pink deepens into red across his cheekbones, and Jisung hides his eyes behind his overgrown bangs as he stares down at his shuffling feet. For yourself, the heat rises to your cheeks, and you’re sure that Jisung could feel them even through his gloves. And just if that wasn’t enough to make you melt in this winter, Jisung confesses his feelings for you once more as wills himself determinedly to look into your eyes.

“I love you. So, please be fair to yourself.”

There was no way that you could say anything to that, not with how he hits you the words filled with honesty. You see the way his eyes slowly morph into uncertainty at your silence, worried that he made you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry-” His words are cut off with a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t be,” you beam at him with the cutest smile, brighter than the sunset behind you. “I love you too, Sungie.”

Delighted with the positive response, Jisung lowers his back to be at eye level with the person that he loves. His thumb traces along the bottom of your lip, index following the shape of your jawline as he gulps at where he puts his finger. You’re met with Jisung’s eyes, and no words are needed when you understand what he is asking for. Your sure nod left Jisung almost sweeping you off the ground, joining his lips with yours sweetly under the warmth of the sunset. 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet

@haneul-and-clouds

[robbyykeene]

I honestly wouldn’t have had such a huge problem with this season if it wasn’t for the last like. Five minutes. So Robby got screwed over and Miguel’s win was unsatisfying and we had no real resolution for Tory with anything. I actually really liked what they did with Sam. I liked her choosing to do what felt right for her. I liked her going off to Okinawa to forge her own path while honoring Mr. Miyagi and learning about his history. And evil karate husbands murder suicide yacht explosion via Kreese’s cigar is the exact kind of gay ass campy insanity I tune into this show for.

And without what happened at the very end, I could also write off all the bullshit at the tournament. Robby saying “no mercy” could be interpreted as tongue in cheek inside joke, as him just telling Tory that he’s behind her no matter what and to give it her all. Daniel channeling Kreese (and using derogatory sexist language to boot 😒) would be much harder to swallow, but I could choose to view it in a similar vein—Daniel is reminding Johnny that he’s tough, he’s strong, he doesn’t give up, and he now has everyone standing behind him and supporting him. And Miguel…well lol I still think it’s crazy they flashed back to him fighting dirty, and the whole fight just wasn’t compelling to me, but whatever honestly. He got a happy ending and did fight with honor so ultimately it’s not a very big deal.

As for the rest of it…the entire conceit of Johnny needing this trophy when he literally already has everything and should finally be able to see that, Kreese telling him he “always does the right thing” (lol), the baby plot line, etc. It was all pretty much what I expected, anyway. And Johnny taking back Cobra Kai is not something I actually have a problem with at all. It’s been obvious since season 1 that this was always going to be the satisfying ending for him, and I would have been happy they at least saw this through. Except then they Did That. They made him try and justify the entire Cobra Kai philosophy—the same philosophy that Kreese himself realized was dangerous and spent all season trying to apologize for. The same philosophy that got a child killed five episode prior. The same philosophy that has been destroying the lives of all of these characters for the entire duration of the show. And then as the final nail in the coffin, they show Johnny is still ruthlessly bullying children and mocking them for their physical appearance. That he hasn’t changed or grown at all. And then the show just ends. That’s it. That’s the conclusion of six seasons. That’s the culmination of a 40 year character arc. Once a bully, always a bully. But now we’re supposed to find it funny and charming. Well, I don’t. Fucking sue me.

[shinwonderful]

Freedom of Choice

prologue to Heavy is the Heart (That Wears the Crown) [masterlist coming soon]

part of you hoped you'd be able to avoid this aspect of royalty, but it was inevitable. they would never allow the sole heir to the kingdom of evermoor to remain unmarried. all you can hope for is that one of the suitors you meet will be the true love you've always dreamt of.

⁺✦ seventeen x reader (cyoa style!) ⁺✦ word count: 3.3k ⁺✦ genre: historical, kind of a mix of everything lol ⁺✦ warnings: shitty parents, forced marriage, mention of being pressured into intimacy, i promise i'm not a royalist i just think historical stories of nobility are v romantic

જ⁀➴┊ [🐈] happy valentine's day!! this series has been in the works since november, and i'm so excited to finally post the prologue! this series has come to be very close to my heart, and i'm really excited to share it with you guys!

special thanks to @lovewithoutresin my beautiful bestie for editing and writing the dialogue for the reader's Handmaiden! I love that this series has a piece of you in it too MWAH!!

the prologue and a certain upcoming chapter are dedicated to the lovely @ylangelegy for inspiring me to pick up writing (on tumblr) again after nearly a decade (christ alive i'm old. 💀). if they hadn't been so supportive and expressed interest in this story, i'd likely not have written it. happy valentine's day ilysbbbb

dividers by saradika!

each chapter of this series will have a (relatively lol) period-accurate theme and costume.

this chapter's theme is Fauré: Après un Rêve (ca. 1870).

"A song about devotion and passion. The dreamer yearns for the return of her dreams, in which she met her love: ‘In sleep made sweet by a vision of you’."

the costume for this chapter is this gorgeous afternoon dress (ca. 1835) from the met museum archives.

“All we ask is that you keep an open mind.”

The rattle of the carriage wheels against the meticulously hand-paved road beneath your fancifully cushioned seat was, perhaps, the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment. You could do little but curse them internally, knowing putting up a fight was… tragically futile.

“How do you mean, Mother?”

You already knew the answer to this question, but it bought you a bit of time to school your reaction, to use your decades of lessons in decorum to keep your actual thoughts and feelings from clawing themselves out of your mouth.

After all, for God’s sake, how could they expect you to choose a husband on this supposed ‘diplomatic tour’?

You’d, of course, rolled your eyes when your Handmaiden had told you of their plans (though a much more tumultuous emotion stirred behind your sardonic response). Your parents hadn’t even afforded you the courtesy of a conversation before making arrangements for the tour. Instead, the news was broken only after your Handmaiden heard the rumors in whispers that echoed through the long, hollow halls of your castle. (Pro Tip: Having a best friend on your staff never stops being helpful.) You knew what this was, and it wasn’t simply diplomatic. At least, not in the usual sense.

You knew what this was– everyone did. You were of the age where courtiers began to whisper about your lack of husband, gossiping about why the Crown Heir of Evermoor had yet to even begin the courting process. Why so many requests for meetings had gone politely rejected.

The truth was much less salacious than popular theory– as is usually the case. Quite simply, you’ve just yet to meet an eligible bachelor that doesn’t make you physically recoil at the prospect of being wed to them. Between the Dukes whose eyes on your female staff were… less than respectful and Counts who couldn’t make it longer than thirty seconds without saying something to stroke their own egos, you’d rather shovel the stables by hand than meet with any prospects for the time being.

There had been a close call once, just a few months back, where you’d met with a neighboring King who was charming enough at first. That is, of course, until the bastard had tried to pressure you into necking with him after dinner one night. You sent him packing on the spot. And your parents, the Queen and King, were irate. Apparently, not offending the royal family was more important than your honor.

Which, tragically, prompted them to force your hand into embarking on what would be your ‘grand tour’ throughout the nearby kingdoms. Officially, it was a tour to introduce you as the Crown Royal to your (pre-established and potential alike) ally’s own Royal Families. To establish a line of communication and get to know each other sooner rather than later. But none were gullible enough to miss the writing on the wall. You were unmarried, and most of the kingdoms you’d be visiting had unmarried royal sons of their own to offer. After all, for a royal as high-ranking as yourself, it’s most appropriate for you to marry other ‘high-value’ royalty. Those who would be Counts in their own right someday, some even Kings. Any children born would rule over both domains, doubling your families’ power and influence in the realm. (And that was all anything was ever about. Cue eye roll.)

Perhaps you’d have fought harder if you thought there was the slimmest chance of getting your way, but… why kid yourself? This was an inevitable. Since you were young, you’d known your fate would be that of most born of noble blood. To be used as a bargaining chip, a pawn in someone else’s game– one neither of you had elected to play.

Sure, there had been a time many years ago where you’d find yourself in despair over this. Growing up, your favorite stories were the ones told of love triumphing over all. You’d go to your balcony in the dead of night, wishing to any power that could hear you to be one of the lucky ones. For you to have the chance at a marriage of love. A husband you chose not because of the family crest he bore, but for the tender affection he showed you. The way he lit up your world, coloring your bluest nights into the tender pinks of the sunrise. Someone who was well and truly yours, divorced from the way nobility are traded like commodities, but how love brings two souls into one, merging until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. A love like poetry. A love worth writing about.

But those days were long behind you. Even the most hopeless of all romantics can’t resist the effects of erosion, the cynical waves of the ocean clawing at the coast until even something so eternal as the Earth itself gives way, becoming part of the ocean it once fought to resist so vehemently. Holding onto that optimism… at some point begins to hurt you more than it helps you. And so you, once as steady as the Earth in your quest for love, you surrendered to cynicism just as steadily, until you, too, found it hard to believe that love in the pure sense even existed at all. 

Of course, those were the times when your Equerry would ask you to accompany him on a trip to the local market. After all, none could read you quite like him. It came with the territory– his job, of course, to be your shadow. To care for you, and to watch over you. And he took his role very seriously. To him, this meant to help you through not just your meetings with the steward, but also to watch for signs that your spirits need lifting (despite this not technically being in his duties). And seeing how your mouth twitched into a frown any time someone mentioned the concept of love the past few months? He didn’t have to be a scholar to read you.

So he pulled you into the castle’s preferred bakery, calling for Mister and Missus Kim and producing a beaming smile when the pair came out from the back to say hello. The couple’s eyes shined every time they looked at one another, and the three of them talked about the castle’s weekly order as you watched from near the door, mindlessly eyeing the pastries on display in the cabinet, trying to ignore the way your chest fluttered just being around something so beautiful. She held a toddler on her hip, and the moment it crossed your mind that she was looking tired from holding the boy, her husband instinctively grabbed him, placing him to lay upon his own chest instead. It was as if they had their own language, something silent but incredibly tangible that tied them together. And it was a sight to behold.

Your heart felt much less heavy on the ride home, your eyebrows quirked in thoughtful wishing instead of the bitter resignation they tended towards. Your Equerry said nothing, his hands smoothing against the hat he’d placed on his lap as he smiled softly. He didn’t need your words to know he’d done well, even if he would love to hear them. But alas, the you of the present day was much too timid to speak what was on your mind. The thoughts were much too soft for someone who was to someday rule over this nation. But maybe, you thought, maybe you were what was too soft. Maybe fate had played a cruel joke in making you the only one who could govern your beloved country once your parents no longer could. Maybe it was all a fool’s errand.

Because you couldn’t help but feel that… perhaps you’ll never be lucky enough to possess a love of your own, but you’re more sure than you’ve ever been that love is one of the finest things humanity has to offer– so real, so tangible that it shone through the dark clouds hanging over your head. And you’d do anything it took to feel its embrace, even for the smallest moment in time.

It was hard to contend with the idea people had in their head about you at times. To them, you were the Crown Heir of Evermoor. Sole Heir at that. Flowers bloomed bright the day you were born, and (according to folklore) it’s impossible for a flower to wilt if it’s been blessed by your presence.

You care deeply for your nation, making certain your Equerry schedules an allotment every few weeks for you to visit the capital’s town square, relishing in the bustle of the city and the chatter of those hard at work, or those working to forget their hard day at work. But when they notice you, they’re quick to forget what they were doing. Instead, they either gawk openly, or rush to have their moment with you. Something they’ll remember for a lifetime; ‘the time the Crown Royal complimented my pelerine’ or ‘the time I made the Crown Royal smile by presenting them with a rose’. 

But at home? You’re just… you.

You’re sprawled out over your plush bed, dressed down to your chemise and pantaloons as your Handmaiden helped you sneak a second dessert to share, shutting the door to your quarters quietly as she, too, leapt to join you in your bed with a mischievous smile (though there was an unspoken tension in the air that neither of you cared to address just yet). Your hair hit your shoulders in what were once carefully-manicured curls that had loosened throughout the day. If it were anyone else, you’d be shamed for the lewdness of this moment, but this was another perk to having your best friend as your Handmaiden. With her, this was perfectly appropriate. Even if it wasn’t technically in the spirit of the rules.

The upcoming months hung over you like a death sentence. Tonight would be one of your last as a single person, one of the last you’d not be betrothed– or worse, married. At the end of the week, you’d be leaving on your tour. Leaving the only home you’d ever known to stay at palace after palace belonging to strangers who intended to sell you on their sons. And if there’s one thing you knew; the only thing more formidable than your citizens competing for your attention is dozens of nobles doing the same. At least your people had some sense of dignity.

Today was one of the last nights you’d be free to kid yourself into believing that, by some miracle, you’d get the fairytale ending you’ve always dreamed of. Because once you left the borders of Evermoor, there would be no returning without the burden of a ring on your finger, its center stone heavy with insurmountable expectations and a destiny you’d never get to seek.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud clink of a fork on your Handmaid's plate– a clearly theatrical gesture. 

“So?” She sat her plate aside without looking away from you. When you gave her no indication that you knew what she was about to broach, she continued, her voice casual and innocent. “How long were you planning on moping about for? I just mean to ensure we stay on schedule.” 

Eyes still trained on the plate of Ratafia Cake in front of you, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at one corner of your mouth. You gave her a thoughtful hum. “I was thinking… maybe a couple more decades? Don’t want to overdo it, of course.” You looked to her with a facetious grin.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying it. “That sounds about right. I wouldn’t want to waste any more precious time I can’t get back either.” She kept the dry tone, but there was evident concern on her features. Perhaps a bit of frustration as well. 

Your smile faltered, the truth in her words hitting a little too close to the truth for comfort. You resorted to pushing your cake around on the small saucer, the prospect of eating suddenly much less alluring as the truth settled in your stomach like a stone. Your voice came out barely over a whisper; “What else can I do? It's not as if I have any say in the matter. I've pushed this off as long as I can. My parents…” You take an exasperated breath, “They aren’t going to budge this time.”

The pretense was dropped then, and she shifted to get comfortable, tone more serious. “I know. It's not fair the way this is happening. I hope you know I am really sorry about that.” 

“I just… don't think that the way you're thinking about this is really helpful to you.” She looked off, thought for a moment, then turned back to pick the situation apart. “We can't change the situation. So the way I see it, you have a few options here.”

You placed the cake to the side then, shifting to lean against the bedpost. Part of you felt the urge to dig in your heels, to protest, but unfortunately one of your best friend’s qualities happens to be that she’s almost always right about these things. So instead, you bite your tongue, nodding for her to continue.

“Option One; you go on the tour. You grin and bear it with the suitors. And really, you’ll only be with each of them for a short time. So if they’re that terrible, you’ll be out soon enough. Don’t worry about months or years from now– just focus on getting through this part. One step at a time.” She picked up her cake again, taking a shamelessly large bite and swallowing it quickly.

“I hate that you’re being made to choose this. But think of it this way: you do get a choice if you go. You can at least focus on trying to influence things to make your life easiest. And maybe you will end up liking someone, at least enough to try. I mean, the odds are one of them won’t be completely insufferable. And if they all are, I promise to let you mope until the end of time, okay?”

That has you laughing again, turning to look at her fully. “Careful; I may actually take you up on that. I really think I’ve yet to fully realize my true potential in the field of being annoying. And as my Handmaiden, you have special privileges as my guinea pig for just that.” You give her an easy smile, leaning on one side while you pick up your cake once more.

But as you take another bite, you ponder her words carefully. As suspected, she was right once again. Most noblewomen are not as lucky as you’ve been. You made it this far without being betrothed, and even then your parents are still allowing you the choice of who to marry instead of forcing someone upon you. So while the situation is certainly unideal… she’s right to say that you still have some freedom of choice. And while small, it’s best to count your blessings whenever they come, lest it drive you mad.

“You’re right.” You pause, trying to find a way to say what you mean without sounding naive. Or worse, corny. “What I want may be out of question, but I suppose any choice is better than none.” You furrow your brow for a moment, lost in thought. “Perhaps… some of these suitors also mourn this choice. Love may be off the table, but… perhaps we can be friends–” You pause once more, laughing softly. “–who just so happen to be married.”

You’re not sure why it took you so long to reach this conclusion. After all, noble as they may be, these suitors are human just as you are. Each of them have their own thoughts, goals, desires, dreams. And perhaps, like yours, theirs is also stifled by this imposed choice. Perhaps.

“Exactly,” she replied, face brightening a bit at your change in tone. “And… well, who knows?” She shrugged, not going any further into the thought. “At any rate, it won’t necessarily hurt to have a partner in crime.” 

“My, my– are you suggesting that I replace you now?” You tease her.

“Right. So what's Option Two, then?”

“Option Two; we let the kingdom burn, run away in the night and live on the lam. That one has a few kinks to work out.” She played it as straight as she could, but it was obvious from her face that she was trying to be funny. 

Your laughter comes out in a snort, her words catching you by surprise. “You know what? I'm half tempted to take you up on that. But I don't think Mr. Stick-in-the-mud Equerry would go for it. Tragic.”

“Oh, forget him,” she said lightly. “We can do it on our own.” She finished the last bite of her dessert.

You try to ignore the way you immediately feel guilty imagining the expression on your Equerry's face if he knew the details of this conversation. Even tonight, you had to practically beg him to take the night off so you could have this time with your Handmaiden. He's been practically glued to your side since the news of your fate reached him, ever protective of you. He means well, but… a girl needs to breathe sometimes. You can only imagine what he'd do, how he'd feel if you fled. You scrunch up your face apologetically at your Handmaiden, still smiling. “Sorry. Maybe next time.”

She laughs, shaking her head at you softly. “Seriously, though. Just try, okay? There must be some part of this that could work out for good.”

As you, too, finish the last bit of your cake, you nod solemnly in return. “Alright. I'll… try. But only because you asked me to.” You answer with an air of drama. “We should both hope this goes well. After all, he’ll soon be your problem just as much as he’ll be mine. It's your neck on the block too,” You joke.

“Don't I know it,” she replied, and collected the dish back from you. “And God help us both.”

“We just don’t want you to be so… dismissive. Alright, dear? Give them a chance. They just might surprise you. You’ve been so picky, and we won’t tolerate a repeat of last time.”

The words of your Father hit your ears like an arrow, and you’re rearing back to spit a harsh retort when you feel your Equerry place a steadying hand on your shoulder, just out of view of your parents across from you both. Looking at him, he gives you a sympathetic smile that does little to alleviate your anger, but it succeeds in holding you back if only because you hate fighting with your parents in front of him. (It stresses him out having to play the middle-man when he wants to have your back with no question.)

So you take a deep breath, letting your Father’s words linger in the air of the carriage, which suddenly felt hopelessly stuffy.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that the carriage slowed to a stop, signaling the end of your journey to meet the first of your suitors. Your heartbeat quickened, and as your attendant opened the door to the carriage, the sun pricked at your eyes.

While you waited as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed an unfamiliar hand reaching into your carriage, offering for you to grab to assist you out. “May I help you, Your Highness?”

And though it felt like diving into frigid waters in the black of night, you took the stranger’s hand.

[not-poignant]

Hi,

I'm not sure how to approach this without sounding like an ignorant asshole, but I'll give it a go.

I'm from a country where the Trans movement isn’t very visible, and most of what I know about it comes from the internet. I’ve never truly understood gender dysphoria. I’ve tried to listen and put myself in others' shoes, but I struggled to be genuinely empathetic. Instead, I just tried to be supportive because it was expected of me, without really getting it.

It might sound silly, but reading Underline the Black made me stop and think… Wait, is this what I think it is? Reading Efnisien’s internal monologues and introspection made me feel something—maybe not from the same circumstances, but in a way that something inside my brain clicked, and I finally saw where the pain was coming from.

I guess what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me begin to understand and for broadening my perspective. It might sound small, but it’s something I deeply appreciate. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I do feel a bit foolish realizing that it took an ABO fanfic for me to get it… but at the same time, I was also reading about your real-life experiences. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Forgive me if I’m wrong.

You have an incredible talent for expression.

Anon, until you know otherwise, everyone has to start somewhere. This applies to unlearning our biases and prejudices, which we all have for something, or many things, until we unlearn them. The fact that you've even tried to be supportive of something you don't really understand is still important, and still matters. It's a step into understanding, even if you don't have it yet.

I don't think it's foolish that it took you a story to realise what you've realised! This is actually exactly why representation of diversity (in gender, sexuality, culture, race, etc.) is so important in fiction. Because it's in fiction we can be free to explore concepts that are different to our own, or that challenge us, or make us see the world differently. This is why it's so important to know it's possible to identify with a trans character, or a POC character, or a character from a different culture to ours etc. Because that's when we humanise what we previously saw as like, different, Other, hard to understand. We go 'oh that's...really relatable actually, I think I'd feel the same way if that was my experience of life' or 'I don't know if I'd feel the same way but I really understand where that person is coming from.'

Gender dysphoria is complex, and different for different people. Being able to write it metaphorically through Efnisien's journey has been really interesting for me personally, because I've been able to depict both the inner conflict of knowing that your being is not...automatically going to be accepted as normal no matter what, unless you stifle or suffocate yourself, alongside the true euphoria and joy that can come with living as your best life, or your very self.

I have once seen a good analogy which is simply: Imagine from tomorrow onwards, everyone uses the pronouns you don't associate with yourself. You are bullied and mocked unless you wear clothing that is opposite to how you want to appear to others. You are put down and treated as psychologically abnormal for finding joy in true expression, even when that expression doesn't actually hurt anyone else at all. And now tell yourself that even your loved ones, when you desperately try to explain how wrong it all feels to be treated as so different to your true self, they explain that it's just mental illness, or that you're just confused, or that you don't understand yourself, and condescend to you, and treat you like they somehow have always known you better than you know yourself. And that's when you realise you might have to choose between your true self, and your family and loved ones who don't understand, or worse, hate you.

And then imagine that's the rest of your life, but it could change in an instant, if all of society just accepted that you are who you say you are! That all of your depression, and oppression, and suffocation could literally just vanish, if everyone was like 'oh sure actually, you want those pronouns? Cool! You want to wear this clothing? I like it!!'

And that journey is very tough in the real world, even in more accepting places (the US is clear evidence of this). In Underline the Black, I get to put Efnisien in a very specific space, and show the journey in a kind of specific way that isolates it and speaks through metaphor.

My experiences are different to Efnisien's, though I am trans, I never actually started out wanting to write a 1:1 trans narrative. Like, in this universe, "conventionally" trans people exist too. Efnisien's experience is a new thing, and a separate thing, but still - as we can see - a very good metaphor as well. I like telling parts of my story, but only small parts. I am more interested in...telling healing stories where I can watch a character heal and go 'oh I would like more of that for myself, as well.'

(Also, it's better to just say omegaverse, or AOB, etc. because a/b/o without the dashes is a slur in Australia, and while I know most people don't live here! We try to avoid slurs from other countries when we can. And we can only know to do that once someone tells us!)

But yeah, no, you don't sound like an ignorant asshole at all. You sound like someone who has learned something, and has gained more understanding, and was open to doing that, and honestly anon if more people came to something they didn't understand from your perspective, acceptance and love would be a lot easier to teach people.

It's so important to read stories about characters who aren't quite like us, or aren't like us at all, because that's when we realise just how much we actually do share so many similarities, and why our differences matter too.

Anyway thank you for sharing your message with me! I really appreciated it.

[enbythemes]

another little update. blush is probably going to be my last new code for a while. @ the people who are able to make dozens of new codes regularly, you are my hero. gonna take another little mini break as a birthday treat (*cough cough* if any of you lovely generous people wanna leave a tip and enable my vanilla coke addiction *cough cough*) then i'm gonna go back to focusing on cleaning up the rest of my old stuff and potentially finally submitting them to the theme garden like i said i would for like the last two years

(semi) active again

hello! long time, no post. I know inconsistent posting is sadly kind of my thing at this point (✨ mental illness ✨) but this year has turned out to be a lot harder on me than I would have liked. was going through some really tough personal things that just completely shut down any motivation i had for creativity. BUT I've recently have been getting back into the swing of things and there are some things I am excited to post and share soon. I'm made a little checklist that I'm gonna put under the cut mainly for myself but obviously feel free to have a look. thank you for all the support (and feeding my vanilla coke addiction)

Finish redoing all my old outdated themes (maybe pages as well?)

Submit them all to the theme garden

Post first premium theme (by the end of this month 🤞)

Give my own theme a much needed makeover

Finally finish (at least) one of my wip's that have been sitting in my files forever

[clovariia]

we can finally post our pieces for @huntlowfanzine!!! this project was so much fun. i was the beta reader mod, i wrote a fic, and i drew spot art for several people's fics/poems. thank you SO MUCH to @skeptical-rainbows for drawing such beautiful spot art for my fic!!! 💚💛

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59088022

you can see more of the spot art doodles i made for other people's fics and poems below the cut.

thank you to the many authors who allowed me to work with them! i'm so glad i got the opportunity to beta read and draw art for so many fics. :)

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

I AM. FINALLY. SEMESTER FREE!!!!

[imminent-danger-came]

I really am so sad I don't like isat. The themeing was very good

[alchemocha]

Help support us!

As the goal above says, my partner and I have successfully made it to Canada and have been living together for 2 months now. The next step in our life and her citizenship is to, get Canadian citizenship. To do this we’re going the spousal sponsorship route, and need to cover the fee. If you are able and would like to help us, you can share or donate above!

Other ways to help us reach our goal and support us:

Commissions!

Buy some prints of my art!

[untimelyambition]

inside you there are two wolves

[seaofreverie]

Just wrote my "reflections on this year" post and it's a 5 paragraphs long essay, so I'm not posting all that

[missmouse43]

6 weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke…..

🏝️🤙🏄🏾‍♀️🏄🏼‍♂️💔

[dark-twist-fairytales]

staring at some old posts like 'i have regrets'.

[rosicheeks]

I hope your days aren't as heavy and dark, I am sending all the positive thoughts your way. You deserve the best, fairy princess. <3

😭

[rox-of-iu]

how is a man supposed to odmaturovat when my head is soooo empty but also soso so so full o(-(

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.