#did not mean to abandon all my socials art school had it out for me this last semester ok

[cccotard]

asunaro fire hazard

[djuvlipen]

When my father found out I am gay, he beat me brutally, but today I help other LGBT+ Romani people

Patrik Kotlár's coming out was not easy, encumbered as it was by discrimination and his own family's incomprehension. Instead of giving up, though, he decided to overcome those obstacles and use his experience to aid others.

He established the nonprofit organization Romany Art Workshop 13 years ago, offering arts workshops, educational programs to develop community activism and leadership, and sports activities in Tanvald, Czech Republic. He also collaborates with the ARA ART organization.

In November 2023 the two organizations opened a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou and will open another in Frýdlant. These clubs will become places for members of the LGBT+ minority to meet each other and give each other support, as well as places for Romani people from excluded localities to gather.

Patrik (36) is inspiring to those who want to overcome such obstacles themselves and become the voices of change. “As a schoolchild I myself was not aware of my sexual orientation. My schoolmates told me what they thought, though,” he starts his story.

The insults he endured were unpleasant and he believed his friends were absolutely crazy. He did not begin to realize what his sexual orientation was until the age of 16, as a high school student studying social work.

He did not decide to come out until two years later, when he began his first partner relationship. He met his then-boyfriend on a train.

It never even occurred to him that anybody around him might take a negative view of his being gay. “While I had been raised my whole life in the Christian spirit of a man belonging to a woman, I never worried about that for myself. I accepted my orientation as a fact and I never thought that it was supposed to be wrong,” he admits.

He began visiting a gay bar in Liberec after fully realizing and admitting his orientation. He and his friends enjoyed going to the disco there.

One day, however, a group of Romani people who knew his father saw Patrik leaving that bar and immediately informed his father. “Dad was unable to stomach it and he beat me brutally for it,” Patrik says, adding that it is still difficult for him to talk about what happened.

Being outed to his father by others was the beginning of the end for him, and he found himself in total isolation, cut off from contact with most of his family and former friends. The suddenness of the situation also had a negative impact on his studies because he was forced to drop out just before graduation.

“I was afraid my father might even kill me unless I left Liberec,” he says. He was on the run from his father’s aggression for more than a year, hiding in various locations all over the country, but his father always managed to track him down.

“Whether I hid in Plzeň, Brno, Pardubice or the capital, my father always found out where I was at the time. It was exhausting, I lived in constant fear that he would find me and harm me. In his eyes I had caused the entire family unreal shame. However, nobody else in my family reproached me for my orientation and accepted me without any problems,” he said.

A childhood without a mother

When Patrik speaks of his family, he does not mean his mother, because he got no support from her as he was growing up. His mother abandoned the family when he was nine.

Patrik says his mother was an alcoholic and, after disagreements with his father, who wanted her to stop drinking, she always left the family for some time before eventually returning. She never gave up drinking.

One day she left for good and the family never saw her alive again. “My childhood was sad without my mother, to this day I say I basically never had a childhood,” Patrik recalls.

“Dad was older when we were born, and he raised us with a strict hand. As children we were never allowed to go anywhere besides school and music lessons, we had no personal space,” he reminisces.

Patrik never managed to re-establish contact with his mother. He heard from acquaintances more than once that she was homeless in Košice, Slovakia, and another time that she was in Bratislava, but when he and his sister went there, they were unable to find her.

One day an older sibling who had long since flown the nest let them know they needed to meet in Brno and immediately head for Slovakia because their mother was dying and wanted to see everybody one last time. They did not hesitate and set off after her at once.

Patrik’s father’s health was also not the best. Since they had last been in contact he had developed symptoms of Alzheimer’s and other diseases.

“He asked my sister to send a message to me to come home and that he wouldn’t do anything bad to me. I obeyed and our relationship actually improved. It took a while for him to reconcile himself to my orientation and get used to my boyfriend at the time, but he didn’t shout abuse at either of us or attempt to harm us in any way. Ultimately my sister, my then-boyfriend and I took care of my father in his most difficult moments. He died nine years ago today,” he says.

Aiding others is the priority

His personal experience of discrimination in his family led Patrik to establish the Romany Art Workshop nonprofit organization 13 years ago. The organization concentrates on aiding adults and children grappling with social exclusion.

The NGO prepares primary school pupils to apply to high school, offers recreational activities and summer camps, and holds arts workshops which will be transformed this year into an academy for talented youth. The academy will concentrate on the arts and music and its instruction will be comparable to that of an arts school at the primary level.

The main aim of the NGO, however, is to lead local Romani people to emancipate themselves with the aid of community activism and leadership training. Patrik is convinced it is important to show Romani youth the opportunities that exist to engage in public affairs and to create new activities in the places where they live.

Patrik says he believes individuals can contribute to the better integration of Roma into society through such engagement. He himself is an example.

Before establishing the nonprofit, Patrik led Bengale Manusha, a professional, three-generational ensemble, for two years. On the sidelines, his NGO is working with the LGBT+ minority in the Liberec Region, the members of which are turning to them more and more often.

The decision to fully dedicate the organization to the subject was made after Patrik learned of a tragic event – one such 17-year-old Romani youth took his own life because nobody understood him. “I realized that even though we have personal experience with this, we lack deeper expertise,” he admits.

For that reason, he decided to collaborate with the ARA ART organization, which has long concentrated on the LGBT+ subject. Thanks to their collaboration, they were able to open a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou in November, where their volunteers had previously been working.

People from neighboring towns like Tanvald or Železný Brod seek out their services. Soon a club will also open in Frýdlant.

As in Jablonec, that club will provide expert counselling to LGBT+ Romani people. A psychotherapist is also available there to aid clients not just with coming out, but to also answer parents’ questions when they want to learn more about the LGBT+ minority.

The organizations currently have 200 clients, 50 of whom are LGBT+. “The community center is not intended just for LGBT+ people, but also for Romani people from socially disadvantaged environments. We provide various recreational activities and because they come here regularly, we believe they like it here,” Patrik boasts, adding that in addition they are endeavoring to build up mutual dialogue in a natural format about overcoming obstacles and creating a safe space for all.

“I am surprised by how the times are gradually changing and how the Roma are more open to same-sex couples or to people who are transitioning from male to female and vice versa. What has contributed to this are the different reality shows with gay people as the main protagonists, and we know figures like Jan Bendig. He speaks absolutely openly about his orientation and thousands of Roma from all generations follow him,” Kotlár believes.

Nevertheless, he does perceive differences between the various towns. In Jablonec nad Nisou, which is approximately 14 km from Liberec, Romani people are not disturbed to see two men dancing together during a social event.

In Liberec, on the other hand, there are many gay people who are still in the closet because they have the feeling that those around them are not open toward them. “We will do our best to change that for the better, step by step,” Patrik concludes optimistically.

[ui-tenpen-mui-fuhen]

Untraceable (cont.)

pt. iii more interactions. your perspective.

When you first met, it was an uncanny encounter. Serendipitous you might like to say. He bumped into you, seemingly in a rush to go somewhere, only to srop to ask you for directions. You, flustered at the encounter, obligingly gave him instructions. “It’s just straight ahead and should be a littleways to the left.” you said, gesturing towards the street he was meant to follow. That school was abandoned, why would he be looking for it? You chose not to inquire. Then young man said thank you and so he went his way and you merrily went on yours. You hadn’t realised yet, just how much that small interaction would lead to bigger things.

A few days later, you bumped into each other again. Maybe he’s from the neighbourhood? You think. The young man wasn’t in a rush this time, though. He brings out his hand and introduces himself. You shook it, even though you were slightly confused. Was he lost again?

“No! No, I-“ he began, with a small smile. “I came here to go to my favourite coffee shop.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away rather sheepishly, a lock of his hair falling in front of his face. “I recognised you from the other day. I wanted to say thank you.”

You smiled, told him it’s no problem and to enjoy his coffee. “See you… around.” you say, but you certainly didn’t mean it. Not yet anyway. You tuck her mouth behind your scarf. It was coming up to winter, so it got awfully chilly these days. You were about to, once again go on your merry way until he asked:

“Maybe you’d like to join me?”

So there you both were, in this quaint little coffee shop. He insisted on getting you whatever beverage you want. You weren’ too sure why you agreed to have coffee with a stranger but he tried to make the case that it was the least he could do, given that you helped him. You wanted to ask him why did he want to visit an abandoned school, but bit your tongue and figured you’d rather not pry. You’ll have your coffee with this man - whom you figured was probably the same age as you or just a little older.

Both of you got to talking. Usually you wouldn’t initiate a coffee hang out like this, not with a stranger anyway! But he was nice, he was warm, he felt… familiar. And you talked and you laughed and talked some more. You were a young professor at a university and often would teach art part-time at a local elementary school. He was a social worker, his job involved working with orphans, often in the outskirts of the city or in the provinces. You chose not to ask about the abandoned school, you ended up forgetting anyway. “It can be a tough job sometimes… seeing kids in neglect because of financial situations or simply because of the fact they are… different.” His dream is to set up his own schools one day. You were mesmerised at that dream. He then asked you a question, and your eyes widened, slightly taken aback. It was definitely a while since you last…

“… went on a date?” you repeatead his words. You blinked at him. “I mean it’s certainly been a while… is it that obvious?” you asked, jokingly. He only laughed and replied: “Well I think I want to take you on a date. How does Friday sound at the marina?”

And so that one date led to many. And before you even had a chance to catch up with this new presence in your life, a drink and more found the both of you making love one night. It was exhilirating…it was the first time he professed his love. “I love you.” he whispers into your ear, all hot and heavy. You let out a small giggle, rather childishly, seeming rather bemused at his lustful state, kissed the tip of his nose that brushed gently against your lips and said, with hope for whatever the future may bring, “I love you too, Suguru.”

—

ya’ll THOUGHT it was gojo. maybe a sign of plot thickening.

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 here's my trauma recap

May be triggering so.....

Once upon a time~

My parents divorced when I was 3.

So I ssit h houses a lot which is really taxing because you have two homes but your parents wants you to consider their house your real home.

Anyways, along the time in there my aunt stays with me, my mom, and my sister for a bit. She's off her mess so she trips, falls and cracks her head open in the bathroom while 3 year old me is staring at the blood. (I don't remember this tho. Hence the thing I said abt forgetting trauma because it was too traumatic)

Don't remember anything until I'm in elementary school.

So at 8 years old I got made fun of and bullied a lot.

It's when my depression kicked in.

Got made fun of for my eyebrows, my curly hair, my laugh, and my weight.

Then my older sister moves out and never really talks to me again.

At the elementary school I'm at, my then best friend starts to constantly Dutch and abandon abandon for this other girl.

I begged my mom to move schools.

Then I finally moved elementary schools.

Everything was so great at the new one..... I made friends.... one by the name of Christian.....

I had two best friends, and a crush on this guy who was also a teachers kid like me.

One day, my two best friends don't wanna play what I want, but I already had social anxiety at the age of 9 so I didn't wanna fo anything new. They were fine with that so I turned around to get the stuff we usually do, I turn back and they ditched me... instant flashbacks to the other school.

We're friends again yadda yadda.

Elementary school ends.... I go to middle school....

One of the best friends in as talking about has a twin sister...

Her twin sister hated me for some unknown reason.... all she did was be mean to me.... my teachers were awful (except for my art teacher)... then my best friend and her sister moved to a different school....

I made new friends.. and oh hey, my old friend Chris is there. He does the weird "Yes, No, maybe" thing to qn eraser and asks it if we'd ever be in a relationship. Lmao. It said yes.

The year passes. Chris moved schools.

I had friends that were bad for my mental health. I started self harming.

But it's okay because I had 4 amazing best friends and a few other good friends.

This is when I get my first boyfriend.

He was okay.... I guess... I had art class with him and at the 8th grade dance he said he liked me and asked me to be his girlfriend. I said yes.

But over the summer he ghosted me and my mom had to tell me to give up....

Freshman year of high school.

My dad gets a girlfriend and we all go up to see my grandparents in which my grandma and my dad's girlfriend were teasing me for having a fictional crush. It made me angry

I text the group chat with 3 of my best friends because I need a stress reliever.

My best friend just says "no" to the meme. Doesn't read it, doesn't care.

I blow up because I'm sick of disrespect. "I look at every single meme you guys send. I'm sick of you," is what I said.

My best friend blocks me.

I text my other friends trying to get her to unblock me so I can apologize. She unblocks me, I apologize. She doesn't accept it, calls me selfish and says "and you've lost 2 friends because this person doesn't like you either". I confront the other friend and she calls me manipulative, so I block her.

Me and the other friend didn't stay good friends for long (but they're cool now. We're in the same chour class. They have a Tumblr that I follow)

Um.... then I get closer with other people. Specifically my now former friends.... and.... my other friends ex....

I got so desperate to be loved that me and him started dating.

It was a secret and I didn't tell my mom....

Until she found out by looking at the bill of my phone....

Then she found out I had been self harming.... that was.. traumatic all on its own.

Anyways. Covid hit, and.. he moved schools for sophomore year..... over text we sexted a lot.... I was... desperate for some form of love....

But when I tried with boundaries... it.... I felt bad because when I said I didn't want to, I thought he'd hate me.. I thought hed leave me.....

I didn't even know what was happening was considered assault at the time...

The thing that really stuck with me was when he took his (small) dick out and brought my hand to it. I pulled away but he just grabbed my hand again and made me touch him....

Anyways um....

Later on he starts ghosting me.... a lot..... then one day after not hearing from him for 2 weeks he questions our relationship...

We breakup after 2 years... and we break up right before i go to Disneyland with my family.

He wanted to still be friends but I said i needed time.

I have a breakdown in the hotel at Disney.

And after about a week he texts me and asks if we can still be friends, I say no.

He starts trying to manipulate me. Calls me a bitch. I block him.

I get back from the vacation and I have two friends supporting me. Christian and my other unnamed friend.

I find out Chris likes me and had a crush on me in middle school...... he asks me out but I say no because I just got out of a negative relationship.. so I gave myself the entire summer to lull that over..

Then he asks me out again when senior year starts and I say yes.

He helps me realize that my ex assaulted me.... he also told the counselor by "accident" and I had to tell my parents....

Things go fine... but....

8 months later Chris starts to get flaky. He ghosts me for a while at a time (nowhere near the other guy though)

Until I find out that he told the counselor i was suicidal, and then he broke up with me.

And here we are.

[loserchildhotpants]

several times in my life - several, as in more than three times - i’ve had it happen that i’ll bend over backwards for a friend, or multiple friends at once, and i go above and beyond the call of duty as far as friendship goes and then when my utility runs out, or i need something in return (in the form of emotional support, i enforce a boundary or something), i am excommunicated. 

that i go above and beyond without being asked is something i pride myself on and that sits well w my spirit, but i also know that it’s a reflection of some seriously deep abandonment issues. im self aware enough to know that i often do this to myself, and that, to a degree, i teach others how to treat me.

one of these instances, i was in high school, and i’d been sent away from my lunch table and my group of friends bc i hadn’t performed socially the way one of them wanted me to (one of them had introduced a bf to the group and we all hung out w him and when asked my opinion of him i was like ‘he seems nice :)’ and that was really all i had to say abt him bc he was a typical teenaged boy and honestly wasn’t even that nice i was just Being Polite and this was apparently so devastating to my friend that all the other friends rallied around her and decided to punish me for being so unkind bc ‘don’t [i] know how much [my] opinion means to her’ ??? so. i am exiled).

during my exile, i went to the art wing for lunch bc i literally had no one to eat or sit w and i may as well. we had sketchbooks we used for the entire school year, it’s where all our art assignments went (i was in an advanced art class and yes we had homework), and it was nearing the end of the school year, so mine was mostly full. i had one homework assignment i was gonna work on over that lunch period - i remember bc it was pointillism and it was coming along really nicely. i went to grab my sketchbook from my designated shelf, and found it was duct-taped shut and had slurs written in sharpie across the cover.

i panicked, tried to get it open without fucking use of fire or something that might compromise the ~8 months of work i had in there, and when i got it open, i found more of the same. all my works had been ruined w insults and slurs, and some of the drawings were just scribbled over boldly w sharpie to make them unusable. 

i don’t have PROOF those girls did that to me, but the insults used and the handwriting was... telling. 

so for the last 15 years, i haven’t let anyone touch my fucking sketchbooks or look at my artwork without explicit permission and without my constant oversight, and i’ve kept in mind that even people i would be ride or die for may not necessarily consider that trait valuable, and more than willing to cast me aside, they may be willing to hurt me if it makes them feel better.

i feel like i smell it in the air. 

i had that sense of foreboding, the same kind i had before i pried my sketchbook open. and listen, maybe that’s the trauma and anxiety disorders talking! sure! but y’know, it’s not the only time that sort of shit has happened to me, 3 or more times, to me, speaks to a pattern. so maybe it’s anxiety, or maybe im seeing a pattern and i Know when something is abt to happen bc it’s happened multiple times before.

i do this thing where i’m like ‘i’ll work really, really hard, i’ll be available MOST of the time, i will extend my emotional bandwidth for you, i’ll help you when times are hard - when your marriage is falling apart, when you’re homeless, when your parent has died - i am ready and willing to do everything in my power to help you however much i can and surely this will make me a Good Friend, and if i am Good Friend, the person i am being a Good Friend to will be a Good Friend back to me.’ 

that’s not necessarily true, i guess. and nothing friendship-ending has happened (yet) but it’s like i feel it in the air. could it be trauma and anxiety informing that feeling? absolutely. ... but also, no one can discount that im batting 1000 as far as friendships failed, dead and gone now, especially the people i’ve broken my back for. 

idk what the point of this is i just had to write out my thoughts i guess

[demonicintegrity]

Since Welcome Home just had a speedrun record for viral bullshit, lemme key y'all in on what today's creatives think about.

For context, I'm in art school. Everyone around me including myself all have some sort of personal project(s) we wanna publish one day/are working on currently. And those specific projects are meant to make money so it means reaching a wider set of people.

I have several professors touch on what our online portfolio and presence needs, and it's led into class discussions on balancing putting ourselves/our work out there and keeping privacy. On top of learning how to deal with predatory editors and safe pitching practices, my peers are strongly voicing their distaste for any sort of proximity with any fandom they could accomplish because of rampant parasocial behaviors.

I got a roommate who wants to write a graphic novel and part of it is a sorta commentary on tiktok stardom in particular. They explained some of it to us and we all agreed the only way it would ever work is if it never went viral and prayed tiktok never got its hands on it.

Back in my wannabe youtuber days I took a good study at youtubers and realize the best fanbases were on the smaller side and that were encouraged into a specific way of engaging. (Like coming together specifically to do analysis or specifically to discuss smth, etc.) By nature of what people were attracted to what content.

I got book ideas I simply will not go through with if I'm in a peak/going viral because I know people will not handle them well. They will be shelved for another time. I also need to clean out and update my half-abandoned youtube before I start buckling down on my artistic endeavors because I know how the internet is. Never mind the fact that I'm willingly kneecapping myself by refusing to interact with instagram and pulling away from using twitter professionally. I value my tumblr circle so fucking much because it's so not insane and more on the wavelength with my bullshit. And I'm holding onto this more than any How To Market With Social Media advice.

Said roommate who's super passionate about their graphic novel idea exploring fame and what not (which I really can't wait to see happen one day) took inspiration from whatever the fuck tiktok did with Penelope Scott that one time. They explained she had the perfect amount of space away from her presence and an amazing social media balance that couldn't have been better and yet still got drag through the mud. My understanding is that watching that happened made my roommate go "what if" and want to explore some more concepts regarding fame and parasocial relationships.

I'm lucky. I have had minor "popularity" in certain circles on Tumblr (apparently) and yet have never got too dragged into discourse. Especially considering I've been here since I was twelve. The worst I've gotten is from the sociopolitical side of things, some of y'all probably remember how terfs were up my ass that one time.

My point being: Artists who are aware and in the industry and these spheres right now are hyperaware of what their presence can do. Hyperaware that their social media doesn't get to be the luxury of just a fun thing but an extension of their work life. That combined with how even traditionally published authors are more expected to be their own marketing these days, we are much more aware and even prepared than the averaged hobbyist.

And that's partly why all art is such a miserable hobby right now.

Never mind gaming algorithms and playing the luck game to even get seen, never mind the cultural idea that art is just something to be consumed and tossed out like it's a disposable napkin, but the average person is not prepared to handle what happens when lots of people start interacting with you specifically for your work. The masses simply cannot get their act together, especially in a post-covid world.

And the solutions aren't simple. Largely because the only way this is going to get better is if the people consuming learn how to behave. And you and I both can assume how likely that's going to be. Truly, I think meaningful change starts with media literacy. Just learning how to critically think about a piece. But I don't even think that's being taught in public schools, let alone to the focus it needs to have.

If we want the masses to stop harassing people unfortunately we gotta hope they have the reading comprehension to understand what's being put out there. That way they don't come out of left field with a wild accusation.

I remember being in 8th grade reading The Taming of The Shrew and the teacher have exactly zero acknowledgement on the blatant abuse that was taking place. The most we got from the class or her was "dang they didn't like women back then. Wild how she changed after being with this guy for only a short bit. anyways." and move on.

(I remember ranting to my mom borderline horrified how no one else was acknowledging the blatant abuse and horror. And how I just knew some boy my age was gonna sit in that class and read it and not see what was wrong cuz it wasn't explained. No one wanted to put effort understanding Ye Olde Speech. My mom was sorta proud of me in that moment. Said she would've never thought about those sorta things and thought I'd make a good teacher.)

I watched a Ted Ed last quarter in my philosophy class about an after school program teaching porn literacy and sex ed. The person speaking was pleasantly surprised at what was coming from the students once they were interested and encouraged. She (and our class) were horrified realizing porn was the only sex ed most teens were getting.

But my point here being: Teens were not engaging critically, not knowing how to properly get something out of media without being explicitly taught and walked through how to do that. Even though they were actively trying to learn something and intake information, they don't know how. I know my English classes were mostly just "we read this now write a paper about this from the text. Cite your sources and explain yourselves." But even I didn't know what explain yourselves meant and I did great in English.

And now attention spans seem to be on the fritz and the mob mentality is more rabid than ever.

I love making art so much. But trying to put anything out there is gonna suck because now I have to pull out ten different formulas of how do I get a big enough audience to sustain me but also curate and attract people who wont approach this/me in bad faith. All while knowing my social media will immediately become an extension of my work life instead of the stuff I do for funsies.

[djdeadhorses]

After spending what felt like many lifetimes, I came to a harrowing conclusion. In this life, there is not much to look forward to, not much to find interesting, and not much to herald as spectacular. The cyclical routine we as mankind have become unwillingly acquainted to was not one that I found myself in a loving relationship with. Lost in the daily rituals of the hopeless and lonely, I did not want to find myself becoming mad. I felt as though the only way to break free of these shackles was to reject the norms placed on us by society. This means I dropped out of my school, I ran away from my home and family, and I destroyed all of my identifying documents. Seeing the worthless ink of my social security identification and birth certificate go up in smoke was quite the cathartic experience for me. The burning sensation of holding a lighter to my fingerprints left me in blissful agony. When asked for a title, I respond simply with Rust.

My life since has been a cataclysm of abnormality. Obviously, I would never hold any respect for the fascist pigs holding up the system I was running away from. Oh, no no no. I felt the need to perform the role of the blackened in society. A total outcast, unbound by the rules and laws of this world. I began wandering the streets of my local neighborhood, seeking out houses to rob. At night, shattering glass and resting in the vacant walls of an abandoned building, and during daylight scouring my surroundings for any drugs, weapons, or money I could get my hands on. At 18, I would have amassed a small collection of guns and ammunition, which I would carry directly on my person in my backpack. I felt conflicted in a way, knowing I had to remove all physical attachment to materialistic goods while still feeling the need to protect myself. At first I would only carry the guns with me in case something went wrong in a deal. If someone I was dealing with seemed shady, it made me feel more at peace to carry something on me. I never wanted to kill anyone, and I don’t believe that murder makes you inherently powerful. However, I began to feel compelled to rob dealers in my area that I had a weak connection to. I couldn’t tell what was happening to me, but more often than not I would find myself on a dimly lit street with a gun to somebody’s jawbone. Within my first year of doing this I was able to accumulate a total of 7,000$ USD, and a small but impressive collection of handguns and knives. I put half of this cash into purchasing a small trailer on the outskirts of town, surrounded by nobody-people and rain smell. I began meeting some of the people from my drug deals here for a different purpose. Wishing for a change I decided to channel my frustration into the world of art, and began a hardcore punk outfit with two of my buyers. It began simple, I’ll front you a couple grams if you teach me how to play this riff, but quickly the other members began booking us shows in local punk’s garages. Now I had turned into the guy screaming my heart out for a group of sweaty tattooed misfits crammed like sardines into a room no bigger than an apartment’s kitchen. I was glad to make a couple hundred bucks every show and sell dime bags of coke to anyone who’d approach me after. Sooner or later I found myself turning into the group I was surrounding myself with. Now I had noticed several tattoos and piercings had appeared across my body, notably on my face and neck. The image of a rattlesnake began on the side of my face and reached down my torso. On one of these nights, I had looked into the mirror and hadn’t seen anything back in the reflection.

Crystalline snowflakes fell from the sky, illuminated by the brief flicker of my lighter. The snow began to build around my feet, encapsulating my black steel-toed boots in a thick coat of white fluff. I noticed how I couldn’t discern which cloud of vapor in front of me was from my joint or my own frozen breath. I sat on the steps of the back porch watching the snowfall and smoking what I could in a Michigan winter. Inside the house, an iridescent array of colors and lights beamed from every direction. Rainbow LEDS had been hastily strewn along the place, connecting as if a river basin of colorful cords and iPhone chargers. Inside a variety of folk either collapsed or in different levels of engaging conversation with another. To me everyone seemed like they believed picking up a bass guitar and a bottle of oxycontin made them Sid Vicious. But every once in a while I would encounter a wandering soul who interested me, or maybe just a bottle or two for myself. This night in particular I found myself upon a strange connection. As I took one long pull, I heard a voice.

“I saw you play in there, it was cool.”

They’re lying. I play like shit. 

“What’s your name?”

A guy about my age approached me, covering his face with a dark hoodie.

“Rust.”

“Well Rust, mind if I ask you an interesting question?” I scoff and look to the ground. What the fuck does this weirdo want?

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Completely uninterested with his childish bullshit, I continued to roll up another joint with some leftover weed I had in my pocket. I guess he didn’t need an answer, because when I turned back around I didn’t see him anywhere.

Driving home that night I had felt that the repetitive lull of the road put me into a deep trance. Watching the paint lines come and go, each changing sign that felt like it meant nothing in the slightest, and the everlong pitch darkness that seemed to extend as far as wherever I could go. Stuck in the doldrums, I decided to park my car on the side of the highway and smoke. The moon was beautiful that night. It was a bright, pale, white, moon that shone as brightly as the sun. It was hard to ignore the continuous visions of sparse light and figures I would see in the peripheral of my eyes. The smoke I inhaled numbed the pain but worsened the effect. My mind wandered to the question asked. Don’t they say that some people see ghostly figures on the side of the highway at night? I realized my car had vanished, and I was stuck in a limbo. Fog rolled in.

I started to walk aimlessly north when I came across another human. A woman, veiled in a pure white gown and carrying a bouquet. I approached her, and asked her something.

“Where are we?” I asked.

She didn’t respond, merely looking straight ahead with a vacant look in her eyes. Her skin was flushed a pale tone. Then suddenly a man approached her, which seemed to gain her attention. She acknowledged him with a slow, inhuman like nod of the head. After a closer look I began to notice this man was dressed quite peculiarly, wrapping any visible skin on his body with a thick layer of medical gauze. The man spoke in a hushed, low tone. Almost as if it pained him to speak.

“******”

The man said something, but I had no way of hearing him. He turned to me and began to unravel the gauze from his body, peeling it off layer by layer. Slowly, it was revealed that there was no body on this man at all. Instead he existed as a spectral being, completely invisible to human sight if it weren’t for his clothing.

[alwek]

Spiders In My Head: The Furry Community

I used to be a furry. Like properly. I had a fursona and art made of it and everything. It was fun. The people were kind, they taught me about queer culture, and humanities that my school system ignored. I made some good friends, one of whom I really should send a message to. (Hey there, J. If you see this).

But it also runied me. I've never been more social in my life than the period I was an active furry. I was also, well, a kid. Some very bad people took advantage of that. Of the way I was back then. That went on for far too long. And when they stopped, well, when I aged out. It left such a bad taste in my mouth.

I left everything about that online persona behind. It sits abandoned now. A monument to what I went through, the things that happened to me, the way I was.

I'm still semi active in the community. I look at and reblog plenty of furry stuff, and I mean why limit myself on the cool shit I can see just because I had a bad time. It's not like it was all furries faults. They a funny group of people anyhow.

I guess I've been thinking a lot about that portion of my life recently. There really hasn't been a time since where I was as social. I liked that part of it. Being part of some big community, being mutuals with people who did stuff. My sona was used in a group banner! People made art for me because they liked me, and wanted me to feel welcome. I miss that part. If it wasn't for the horrible wretches, I'd probably still be active there.

I don't know. I've been thinking of making a new fursona. It's weird, though. With that bad taste always lingering. I know what to look for now, not that I'm young enough anymore. But still. I have complicated feelings around being a furry myself now.

I'll always advocate for furries, though. I never understood the hate. Sincerely one of the kindest overall communities I've ever had the pleasure of being around. I don't trust the kind of person that would dislike furries as a whole anyway.

[austeregreen]

There was a girl.

When I was in high school, there was a girl in my class. Her name was Patrycja. Today she would be 28 years old. But she isn't because she died nine years ago, one week after our prom ball and, accidentally, one week after her 19th birthday.

It was a suicide - my whole class knew it as she had one attempt before but the teachers kept saying that it was an accident anyway. Only many years later one of them admitted the truth to me. I guess they were afraid of the Werther effect. Not that it really matters. She died, suicide or not.

Patrycja had the most beautiful and lavish blonde hair I had ever seen. I remember this school trip in the beginning of October, in our freshman year. It was sunny afternoon, we were in the park. She was walking along the lakeshore, and her hair were flowing behind her like a golden, shimmering banner. Her hair is always the very first thing I remember when I think of her.

She loved poetry and always had this somewhat decadent vibe around her. She cherished every form of "deep" and "high" art, up to the point where she was coming off as somewhat snooty. She wanted to take history, social studies and Polish language at our final exams. Seeing her name and choosen subjects crossed out of the student list was baffling and surreal.

On the night of the prom ball she was dancing barefoot, in pretty, lace black dress. She had problems with her spine but on that night she was dancing anyway. Alone and with her friends, and with this boy I liked at the time, and she was so full of life and smiling, and laughing. On that night she was probably the most alive among all of us. It probably should be the clue. But I didn't know at the time that when a person makes this final decision, they tend to suddenly become more happy. I think that even now I probably wouldn't notice anything. We never do.

One week later she was gone.

Her last FB post was: "A good day should start with Fripp" with link to "Heartbeat" by King Crimson. She wrote it hours, if not minutes, before her death. Maybe it meant something to her, I don't know. "A good day"... it always strikes me.

She wasn't my friend. To be honest, most of the time I despised her. She was bratty and annoying, and always expected special treatment, especially after her first attempt, which resulted with long hospitalization and reconvalescence. She had a difficult character and didn't have too much in common with me, both when it comes to interests and personality. Nonetheless, somehow I cannot forget her. It's funny - except it isn't.

I attended the funeral (my whole class did) but the next time when I visited her grave was few years later. It was practically abandoned. For some reason, it hit me more than her actual death. I mean, if you die at the ripe age of 19, you should be remembered. Your grave shouldn't be almost empty. Your friends should celebrate you. Whom the gods love dies young - or something like that.

Maybe that's why I still visit her from time to time. Maybe that's why I am writing this online even though probably nobody is going to read it.

In memory of Patrycja H. (1995-2014)

[salsa-and-light]

"I was going to good faith read the post they made until I realized it was longer than MY rants by a order or magnitude."

I find you readiness to abandon good faith to be disturbing.

But then I guess you don't spend much time reading academic papers, a lot of those are just thinly veiled arguments anyways and it always takes more time to expose a lie than it takes to tell one.

"I'd show the pictures here in the books but Tumblr would smite me if I did. That alone should be proof that they are NOT ok for kids."

Every version of this argument is stupid

And fine, I'll do it myself.

Prepare for artistic and educational nudity.

It's a sex-ed book, frankly I think that people think that child-level educational materials about sex are inappropriate(or worse pornographic) is a sign of a cultural disease.

I can assure you that anybody with even passing experience in the study of medicine or biology has seen real naked people in books.

Many of those textbooks would also not be allowed on social media, that doesn't make them inappropriate.

[These are all from It's Perfectly Normal by the way, one of the many books being commonly banned]

"And yet that is the argument you are making is not the case."

If you're trying to say that I'm arguing that nudity is not pornography then that's correct.

There are hundreds of nude paintings and statues in this world commissioned by churches.

Therre are thousands of nude statues, reliefs, gargoyles, fountains and even paintings that are outdoors in the full view of the public; some of which have been there for hundreds of years.

There have many periods in Western history where sex negative attitudes were so prevalant that adultery or premarital sex was punishable by mutilation or death and they still had public nude art.

If you think that nudity is inherently pornographic, especially in an educational context, then you are hundreds of years out of touch with reality.

And if you get turned on by a cartoon nude demonstrating correct condom use, then that's your business and you can keep it to yourself.

"Fact is that "Gay kids have ever right to learn about sex as~" Nope. I'm going to stop you right there."

Oh I'd love to hear the non-homophobic explanation for this.

[hint: if there is one you didn't give it]

"Sex education is the means of which to teach PROCREATION. Nothing more nothing less."

Well, when you want to rejoin us back here in reality let me know.

Because there has never been a culture so bad at sex that they've needed external help with procreation.

In fact, any culture who's comfortable enough with talking about sex to even consider sex education wouldn't need to be told how to have children.

And better yet I would love to hear how you think putting a penis into a vagina gets turned into a semester long course.

As someone who's actually designed a curriculum, I can tell you that's not going to work.

Now if you're ready to join us back here in the real world, here is a real-world 44-page curriculum from a Christian primary school in lovely Oxfordshire.

Which obviously covers more than just how babies are made, in fact more of it has to do with puberty and building healthy relationships. If you check the school website you'll find that this course is for year six students approximately equivalent to American fifth graders or 10-11 year-olds, but I've also buried the lead a bit here because this is actually the third sex education unit that this school provides, the others occurring in year 5(9-10 yrs.) and year two(yrs 6-7).

The year two curriculum actually includes full and correct terminology for genitals, which is a faculty that many adult Americans lack.

It also addresses very basic gender stereotypes; which is, again, a faculty that many adult Americans lack.

Also those very long documents that I suspect you won't read only covers 3-4 lessons. I can't speak for whether this particular school's version of these course extend past this but I think that in general we should both know that some schools, especially with older student do have full-length courses.

This is a brief overview of a British "secondary" school's sex ed curriculum, the years of both would be considered middle school in American terms.

And as you should be able to see, it covers STIs, motivations for sexual intimacy, the differences and relationship between sex and Love, gender identity, sexual orientation, contraception, risk factors and sexual health clinics.

And I will reiterate, almost all of these students are younger than American "high-school age".

And they're getting a more comprehensive sex education than many people.

So no, sex-ed is not just about procreation.

I grew up in the rural South, it was incredibly sex-negative, I didn't know anything about how STIs worked and frankly I was shaky on the mechanics until I took responsibility for my own ignorance and fixed it.[FYI part of that included seeing real penises on YouTube, because Youtube recognized that it wasn't porn]

But even I had to listen to an hour long lecture from some guest speakers about the intricacies of consent and rape.

I know so many people who were completely convinced that contraceptive pills protected them from STIs and that herpes was going to kill them. I have a friend who was very sexually active and had an HIV exposure risk and didn't know that there was any treatment to stop HIV from becoming a death sentence.

As I mentioned far above, the ignorance is astounding and highly dangerous.

And if not during sex education classes then I would love to hear where you think it would be more appropriate to have discussions about gender, sex and sexual health.

"And they make is so scientific, as to make it boring."

And yet you're still worried about nudity.

But regardless, you can't simultaneously argue that something is porn and that it's boring.

"Sex education is not about teaching you how to HAVE sex."

That's generally true, but you're the one talking about instructional mechanics so I'm not sure how you reached that conclusion.

Sex-ed does cover a lot of other how-tos though.

Correct condom usage, what to do in the event of a rape, how to get consent. These are all things that I was taught by a weird stranger in a tornado shelter on what I imagine to have been a Wednesday; I feel safe in assuming actual sex-ed classes have more.

Maybe the hospital that my sister works at would have fewer incidents if people knew that they have two anal sphincters.

"And the pictures they use are normally very detailed internals of the male and female parts."

I don't think internals are going to quite get the message across do you.

Knowing where the urethra is isn't exactly going to tell you how to use a condom.

"There is zero point in teaching gay sex because it can not be used for procreation."

That's gross and homophobic.

It's also wrong.

We don't teach children sex-ed so that they don't mess up procreation; I'm sure that there are penty of mothers and mothers-in-law who would be more than willing to fix that problem in the one in a million chance that the couple can't figure it out.

No. We teach sex-ed so that people can be informed about the things that they are dealing with in their own lives. Basic things, like their own body.

I don't work in the hospital, but I hear from the people who do, do you have any idea how many times I've heard about children who are being sexually abused and they don't even realize it's happening?

Or worse, the children do recognize that somethings wrong but because they only know cutesy euphemisms no one recognizes that what they're hearing is actually the desperate cry of a scared child who needs help.

Even in an ideal scenario where no one is successfully abusing them I don't think you're aware of just how beneficial it can be for a child to know what sex is, to know that they can say no, to know what puberty is, to recognize the signs of abuse, to know where to go if they need help.

A person could go their entire lives without ever having sex and they would still benefit massively from even the most basic of sex-education.

"WHAT YOU are advocating for, is teaching sex for purposes of pleasure."

No, that's not true. You're making that up, imagining it really because I never said any such thing.

If you want my honest view on the matter, I don't think we should be enforcing any ideological purpose when it comes to sexual education. Telling anyone, adult or child, the reasons that they "should" be having sex is completely inappropriate, verging on monstrous.

But I also don't see any reason to lie to children and pretend that pleasure isn't a part of it, that it's not one of the motivations that people have for doing it.

This is very cause and effect, X might cause a pregnancy, Y might lead to an infection, Z might be a sign of abuse, W might cause pleasure.

You're treating pleasure as if it's some grosse act of hedonism to talk about when really it can be just a clinical as anything else.

..

I don't have any desire for an particular ideolgy of sex to be taught or pushed, franky I think the idea that there ever could be a single accurate ideology of sex that applies to everyone is preposterous.

You're confusing information with suggestion or command.

I have no interest in telling people how to spend their money but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to explain the concept of a retirement fun.

And I certainly don't see you squirming about it.

"And also I saw that quip about, "repeated an instance so that's the level of intelligence we are working with here". So writers make mistakes. WOW what a gottem moment."

Writers make mistakes yeah but I think the average typo is on a different level from purposely writing out the word "Pedophil" misspelled in giant letters on poster board before presenting it to a crowd.

Of course the real intelectual blunders were more in the parts where a grown woman was choking back tears because her highschooler read the word "dick" in a book he chose to read and in calling this an act of sexual assault.

And then calling it pedophilia with a giant misspelled sign.

That's a several layers away from a typo, and I think you know that.

Or at least you would know that that if you read what I wrote which is a bit up in the air the moment.

"We are not about teaching KIDS sex for pleasure. We actively avoid it if we can because if you say, "Hey kids this is fun, but DON'T DO IT now." what the hell do you THINK they are going to do?"

I defy you to find a single sex-ed curriculum that says "this is fun but don't do it now".

You seem to be confusing me with some sort of cartoon villain.

Truly it's too much.

Meanwhile here in reality people are literally saying that having sex before marriage will kill you. Notice how the real thing is significantly worse than your worst nightmarish imagination?

If you tell people the truth about what sex is they will be able to make informed decisions about it.

And believe me, I'd much rather that we live in a world where most teenagers are not having sex, but I'd still much rather a teenager make an informed and reasonably safe decision to have sex then have someone in their mid-twenties or thirties to come back from their honeymoon, raped, hurt, infected or even pregnant with little to no idea why or how, let alone while being ignorant of what they were involved in in the first place.

Also just to remind you of some afore mentioned statistics since we are operating in reality, it doesn't really seem to matter what we do or say, teenagers are having sex already.

You're acting like this is some crazy hypothetical, like if we explain sex to people they might tarnish the nation's perfect records of 0% teen pregnancies and STI transmission.

We already live in this reality, I believe we should act accordingly.

"And you know the answer. That's why you advocate for it."

Assuming my motivation.. that's stupid of you.

Expand your worldview maria, not everyone is operating out of the same assumptions that you are. I'm certainly not.

"But what concerns me is that you want to teach sex for pleasure"

Like I said, I never said that, if you want to fight strawmen I can recommend some good corn-fields. Ever heard of Craig, Iowa?

"is that you want to teach sex for pleasure to people who are gay but not to those who aren't."

And I definitely never said that I don't know who you're talking about girl.

"And if you tell me you want to teach non gay kids that too, I have BROADER questions."

Well if you're done fantasizing then I can tell you what I actually think.

I think that a good sex-ed course should cover a broad spectrum of sexuality for all of its students. Because as general reminder bisexuals do exist, and as an additional reminder Queer people shouldn't have to out themselves in order to get an education.

And some people might not realize their sexuality until much later or be unsure of it, I don't think that total ignorance of another form of sexuality is good for them either.

If that means that some straight people have to learn about gay sex so be it.

I fail to see the issue with potentially straight people knowing how gay sex works or with cis people knowing how gender transition works.

Call me crazy but I think understanding people who are different than you is a good thing.

"But something I have run across recently is the idea that gay kids, especially gay boys "Know what they want" and therefore can consent to sex."

Well.. that's not my argument now is it.

Frankly that idea is the closest to something that could be used for sexual predation of minors that I've seen in the many long months since puritans remembered to care about censorship again.

It's also vaguely homophobic but.. it's not your argument so I won't press.

You have your own baggage anyways.

"And this feels VERY remnant of fucking NAMBLA."

Well, this is again one of those moments, because I am both beautiful and curious, where I will do some research.

..

..

How.. is it that you know about a possibly dead pedophile organization from the '90s but you don't know what's involved in a sex.. ed.. class.

What kind of radio are you listening to? And by radio I do mean propaganda, what are you into that's giving you this weird asymmetrical knowledge?

Regardless I've already told you that I never made any such claim and in fact I agreed with the assessment that it's an idea ripe for sexual predation.

But while we're on the subject, boy wouldn't it be great if young people were taught to identify forms of abuse.

If only there were a class for that...

I don’t know guys maybe there should be a don’t say gay bill since gay sex is apparently all the left wants to talk to children about.

[thepiningpoet]

We feature the late dancer, Rudolf Nureyev, who in his own right, was also a man of words. As he was dying of AIDS, in excerpts from an intimate letter to his beloved dancing community, he gives us words to live, to dream, to soar by:

“It was the smell of my skin changing, it was getting ready before class, it was running away from school and after working in the fields with my dad because we were ten brothers, walking those two kilometers to dance school. I would never have been a dancer, I couldn't afford this dream, but I was there, with my shoes worn on my feet, with my body opening to music, with the breath making me above the clouds. It was the sense I gave to my being, it was standing there and making my muscles words and poetry, it was the wind in my arms, it was the other guys like me that were there and maybe wouldn't be dancers, but we swapped the sweat, silences, barely. For thirteen years I studied and worked, no auditions, nothing because I needed my arms to work in the fields. But I didn't care: I learned to dance and dance because it was impossible for me not to do it, it was impossible for me to think I was elsewhere, not to feel the earth transforming under my feet plants, impossible not to get lost in the music, impossible not to get lost in music using my eyes to look in the mirror, to try new steps.

"Every day I woke up thinking about the moment I would put my feet inside my slippers and do everything by tasting that moment. And when I was there, with the smell of camphor, wood, tights, I was an eagle on the rooftop of the world, I was the poet among poets, I was everywhere and I was everything."

I remember a ballerina Elèna Vadislowa, rich family, well taken care of, beautiful. She wanted to dance as much as I did, but later I realized it wasn't like that. She danced for all the auditions, for the end of the course show, for the teachers watching her, to pay tribute to her beauty. Two years prepared for the Djenko contest.

The expectations were all about her. Two years she sacrificed part of her life. She didn't win the contest. She stopped dancing, forever. She didn't resist. That was the difference between me and her. I used to dance because it was my creed, my need, my words that I didn't speak, my struggle, my poverty, my crying. I used to dance because only there my being broke the limits of my social condition, my shyness, my shame. I used to dance and I was with the universe on my hands, and while I was at school, I was studying, arising the fields at six am, my mind endured because it was drunk with my body capturing the air. I was poor, and they paraded in front of me guys performing for pageants, they had new clothes, they made trips. I didn't suffer from it, my suffering would have been stopping me from entering the hall and feeling my sweat coming out of the pores of my face. My suffering would have been not being there, not being there, surrounded by that poetry that only the sublimation of art can give.

"I was a painter, poet, sculptor. The first dancer of the year-end show got hurt. I was the only one who knew every move because I sucked, quietly every step. They made me wear his new, shiny clothes and dictated me after thirteen years, the responsibility to demonstrate. Nothing was different in those moments I danced on stage, I was like in the hall with my clothes off. I was and I used to perform, but it was dancing that I cared about."

The applause reached me far away. Behind the scenes, all I wanted was to take off the uncomfortable tights, but everyone's compliments and I had to wait. My sleep wasn't different from other nights. I had danced and whoever was watching me was just a cloud far away on the horizon. From that moment my life changed, but not my passion and need to dance. I kept helping my dad in the fields even though my name was on everyone's mouth. I became one of the brightest stars in dance. Now I know I'm going to die because this disease doesn't forgive, and my body is trapped in a pram, blood doesn't circulate, I lose weight. But the only thing that goes with me is my dance my freedom to be. I'm here, but I dance with my mind, fly beyond my words and my pain. I dance my being with the wealth I know I have and will follow me everywhere: that I have given myself the chance to exist above effort and have learned that if you experience tiredness and effort dancing, what if you dance sits for effort, if we pity our bleeding feet, if we chase only the aim and don't understand the full and unique pleasure of moving, we don't understand the deep essence of life, where the meaning is in its becoming and not in appearing.

"Every man should dance, for life. Not being a dancer, but dancing."

Who will never know the pleasure of walking into a hall with wooden bars and mirrors, who stops because they don't get results, who always needs stimulus to love or live, hasn't entered the depths of life, and will abandon every time life won't give him what he wants. It's the law of love: you love because you feel the need to do it, not to get something or to be reciprocated, otherwise, you're destined for unhappiness. I'm dying, and I thank God for giving me a body to dance so that I wouldn't waste a moment of the wonderful gift of life.”

- Rudolf Nureyev

[v-hope]

Sweet Night

Pairing: Artist!Taehyung x Heiress!Reader, Heir!OC x Reader

Genre: Fluff (yes, only fluff today, enjoy), Ex Roommates AU, Enemies to Lovers AU, Arranged Marriage (Heir!OC x Reader)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Neither you nor Taehyung were expecting you to show up to his art exhibition, let alone when everyone was already gone, for the two of you were well aware that you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to attending your possible future husband’s charity event instead. Then again, neither of you were counting on your brother and sister in law to take your side and drive you all the way over to him so you could surprise him before the day was over.

A/N: Helloo! This is part 24 of my Social Media AU “Belong”, but you can read it as a stand-alone one shot if you want! I would like to make a shout out to my 🇫🇮 anon for giving me the Jimin idea (you know which one, I changed it a bit to make it fit the story better, but still). I hope you guys enjoy!

Looking away from the backseat’s window, your eyes focused on your trembling hands instead — the city lights as you passed them by being the only source of light as your brother drove through the streets of Seoul, which for some reason seemed to be extremely long that particular night.

The light music Miyoung had taken upon playing on the radio from the passenger seat, in an attempt to create a somewhat calm atmosphere for you and the nervousness she was sure you were feeling, had yet to make you actually calm down. If anything, you could feel your shaky hands become sweatier by the second as you felt a tingle of anticipation in your chest.

Although you wanted with everything in you to attend Taehyung’s art exhibition, you had got out of bed that morning being mentally prepared to spend the entire day at the Lee’s charity event.

You had been ready to spend most of the day with your parents pretending that everything in your relationship was alright, perfect even. You had been smiling for the cameras all day, greeting people you were sure were just pretending to have the perfect life as well, and being forced to make small talk with the ones who used to be your friends yet had turned their back on you as soon as they had found out you were choosing a more modest life over the luxurious one — the same so called friends of yours that had to keep quiet about your little secret if they didn’t want your parents to destroy their family’s business. After all, your family was with no doubt the most powerful one in Korea. And honestly? You couldn’t help but see it now as a curse, after having spent a lifetime believing it was a gift.

Not only that, but you had also spent most of the day next to Sungjin, lovingly posing for the cameras and holding hands, making you wish every single second it was Taehyung instead. You were sure that way it would’ve been more bearable. What you hated the most was the fact that you knew said pictures were being posted right away, meaning Taehyung would see them, and you hated the utter thought of having the man you had feelings for see you acting like a happy couple with someone else — even more after you had to cancel on him to attend an event with the one guy he had asked you not to bring with you to his art exhibition to begin with.

And yet, after having to endure all of that, here you were — a little over an hour after Taehyung’s exhibit was done, being driven over there by your brother and sister in law, while Jimin held him back at the gallery, and you not even knowing what you were supposed to say at all once you saw him. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this whole impromptu apparition of yours was a good idea at all. It had been a long day for him, you knew that for sure, and although he had told you earlier that day that he would’ve loved to have you there, maybe by this point he just wanted to go home and get some rest.

You didn’t have much more time to think about that, though, for just as you remained deep in your thoughts, Seokjin pulled up right in front of the address you had given him before. Looking up from your fidgeting hands, you were met by two pairs of eyes already focused on you.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Seokjin asked, hand on his keys, ready to pull them out at your command.

“Um…” you hesitated, leaning closer to the window as your eyes travelled around the rather isolated street in search of any paparazzis, finding yourself to be quite relieved when you saw none of them around. “Maybe just until I find Tae”.

They nodded, exchanging one last look before they made their way out of the car right as you did. Feeling the cold breeze of the night as soon as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but hug yourself, sticking close to Jin and Miyoung as if you were a kid heading to school with her parents after being called by the principal.

Right as you were about to reach the entrance, however, Yoongi made his way out of the building, looking the other way before his eyes fell on all three of you.

“Hey,” he greeted, politely bowing his head, which you didn’t wait to reciprocate. “I came to see if you were anywhere near, Jimin is going crazy trying to come up with more excuses for Taehyung not to leave”.

You chuckled at his comment, imagining just how troubled your friend must have been. After all, and to be fair, you had taken a good while to get there. “Well, I’m here now”.

“That I can see” he sarcastically replied, eyes travelling from you to Seokjin, and then focusing on Miyoung. “Are you all coming in?” his eyes went back to you.

“Is it just the three of you inside?” your brother spoke up before you could nod. As far as he had understood, it should have been only Jimin and Taehyung inside.

“Oh, no” Yoongi denied. “Namjoon-ie is with us, too”.

“Namjoon?” Miyoung wondered, puzzled eyes going up to your brother. Given her reaction, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she knew what the rest of you didn’t when it came to those two.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, giving her a knowing look before his eyes went back to Yoongi. “Actually, I, um… I just remembered Miyoung-ie and I have things to do, so…”

Although your sister in law looked troubled for a split second there, she wasted no time in nodding her head. Looking at Yoongi, she struggled to get the words out of her mouth. “W-We do! So, um…” her eyes focused on you. “We should probably leave. Is it okay?”

“Sure…”

“You’ll be okay?” she pushed it, earning a small laugh from you over his motherly ways.

“She’s in good hands” Yoongi reassured her, receiving a genuine smile from her that only caused his lips to part into one of his own as well.

“Okay” she sweetly replied, giving him a small nod as a sign of gratitude.

Seokjin playfully nudged her, grabbing her hand so the whole marriage thing could at least be a little bit more believable. “Shall we go then?”

“Mhm…” she replied.

“Call me when you’re done here” your brother demanded.

“Oh, I’m sure Taehyung will drive her home” Yoongi’s words got chills running up your spine.

“Okay,” Jin’s eyes travelled from Yoongi to you. “Call me when you’re home then”.

“I will” you obediently complied.

With that said, your brother and sister in law turned around, leaving you alone with Yoongi, who didn’t wait to motion towards the door for you to go inside.

“After you” he politely said.

You smiled, taking in a shaky breath before you took a step in. Suddenly all the nervousness you had felt on your way here came right back to hit you in the face, not knowing at all what to do once you were in front of the guy you had ditched the Lee’s event for — not even knowing how he would react at all, yet hoping he would be happy to have you there.

You didn’t get too much time to mentally prepare, for as soon as you entered the place being followed by Yoongi, you caught a glimpse of the backs of the other three men inside as they faced one of the many paintings that brought some life to the neutral white covering every single wall of the gallery. And it was a matter of you taking a few steps towards them for three pairs of eyes to be set on you. However, yours were only focused on one particular pair of them — those chocolate ones that displayed a mixture of surprise and pure happiness in them.

“You’re here?” Taehyung asked the obvious once you reached their side, causing his friends to chuckle in amusement.

“Seems like it…” you nervously managed to get out.

Silence took over as big smiles were plastered all over your faces — on yours and Taehyung’s, as the two of you were happy as hell to see each other, and on his friends, for they were having a blast watching the two of you awkwardly stand in front of one another with those dumb smiles of yours, not knowing what to do next.

“Come on,” Jimin chimed in, placing his hand behind your back and lightly pushing you towards Tae. “Your girl fooled her parents into coming here, the least she deserves is a hug”.

With a giggle escaping Tae’s mouth, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you when your body was about to collide with his. Feeling your heart going wild at the warmness of his touch, you wrapped your arms around his waist as well, resting your face on his chest and taking in his scent right as he lowered his head just enough to bury it in your neck.

“Thank you for coming” he mumbled.

A light chuckle abandoned your mouth, deciding to say nothing and instead just nod your head and wrap your arms tighter around his figure.

“Okay, I think this is our cue to go” Namjoon’s voice broke the comfortable silence you had fallen into.

“Yup” Yoongi agreed, patting Jimin’s back to catch his attention, as he was shamelessly taking pictures of the two of you to remember the moment his friends somewhat got together. “Let’s give the love birds some privacy”.

Nodding his head, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocket — neither of them bothering to say goodbye not to kill the moment the two of you were sharing, and just quietly leaving the gallery instead.

Once you heard the front doors being closed, Taehyung pulled away, cupping your face in his warm hands and smiling at the sight of you. “I never thought seeing you would make me this happy”.

“Yah, Kim Taehyung” you called him out. “I’m sure you can be sweeter than that”.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at how spoiled you had become when it came to him and his show of affection. “I’m happy you’re here, princess”.

You smiled, resting your hands over his and drawing small circles with your thumbs on his skin. “I’m happy I’m here”.

His smile turned sweeter somehow, lightly pressing his forehead on yours before a chuckle escaped his mouth and he amusedly shook his head.

“What is it?” you wondered.

“Nothing,” he laughed, pulling away and letting go of your face. “It just makes sense now why the guys were trying so hard to keep me here. Specially Jimin”.

“Was he losing it?” you laughed.

“Totally” he nodded. “He made me go over the whole exhibition again and explain each one of my paintings at least twice to him” his eyes travelled to one particular spot on the wall right next to the painting they had been admiring when you walked in. “When he ran out of pieces to ask me about he pointed at this small crack on the wall and asked me how I had come up with such a deep concept”.

This time, you couldn’t help but tilt your head back as a throaty laugh escaped your mouth — one that had Taehyung giggling, absolutely loving the sound of your laugh.

“He’s an idiot” you stated. “But he kept you here for me, so…”

“That he did” he smiled, biting his bottom lip as his eyes unconsciously travelled down your body — that pink dress of yours sure did look even better in person. “Aren’t you cold?”

Your eyes instinctively went down to your uncovered legs and then to your uncovered arms, remembering how you had hugged yourself outside minutes ago because of the cold air of the night. “It’s alright in here”.

He nodded his head. “My coat is by the entrance, in case you get too cold”.

You smiled sweetly, yet it didn’t wait to turn into what seemed more like a teasing smirk. “So you told me earlier today that you wished you had got to see me in this dress and now you want to cover it up?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, princess. I already told you I think you look beautiful and am most definitely enjoying the view right now” his bold words brought heat to your face. “I’m just looking after you”.

“How sweet of you” your sarcastic tone didn’t really match your flustered expression. “I’m okay for now. Will let you enjoy the view for a little longer”.

“How considerate of you” he was quick to follow your sarcastic antics, silently enjoying that particular choice of yours.

“I know, no need to say it” you playfully squinted your eyes at him, later taking a look at the whole gallery. “You think you could show me around?”

He nodded, a bright smile already taking over his face. “It will be my pleasure” his dramatism got a playful roll of eyes from you. “Where would you like to start?”

“This one is alright” you pointed out, moving closer to the painting you already had in front. “So,” you began, eyes tauntingly going to the crack next to his painting. “Tell me about how you came up with such a deep concept”.

“Shut up” he amusedly rolled his eyes.

“No, but seriously now” you smiled, this time staring at the piece of art in front of you. “Tell me about this one”.

Taehyung’s art, you had found out quite a while ago, tended to be on the abstract side. Therefore, it was even harder for you —or anyone for that matter— to interpret.

This one piece, just like the tag placed above it on the wall let you know, was called ‘Winter Bear’. You could clearly see the winter, the palette of colours he had used just screamed cold days and melancholy. Nevertheless, the bear mentioned in the title was nowhere to be found in the painting — instead, you managed to tell apart what you thought was a little boy, somewhat hidden in between all the colourful strokes surrounding his figure.

“That’s me” he pointed out when he could no longer deal with the confusion in your face, managing to draw your attention back to him.

“What?” your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What is the word ‘bear’ doing in the title then?”

He chuckled. “It’s art, you dork. You can name it anything you want”.

“I think it must mean something, though…”

Taehyung bit his bottom lip. Of course you would know better.

“That’s what my grandparents used to call me” he confessed.

You nodded quietly, understandingly — not really knowing what to say yet not wanting to stay silent. “You must miss them so much…”

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “I mean, not a day goes by in which I don’t miss them, it’s just that… it’s been years so… you kinda grow used to it” his shoulders moved up and down, in a shrug that tried not to make it seem like a big deal. “The whole exhibit was related to winter, so it naturally reminded me of them and how they used to call me, and… I guess I got too personal with this exhibition”.

You gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, reaching for his hand and holding it in yours. “It’s your art. It’s supposed to be personal”.

The boxy smile that he gave you right then was all it took for your heart to skip a beat, later taking in a shaky breath when he intertwined his long fingers with yours and his thumb drew small circles on the back of your hand.

Your eyes went back to the painting in front, trying your best not to let him know what his touch did to you. “I love it” you stated, much to his pleasure. “Love the way it seems to make no sense when you only read the title, yet it makes complete sense after you explain it”.

He smiled wholeheartedly. “I think it just makes no sense” his words had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Not everyone is lucky enough to know the true meaning behind it”.

You giggled. “Lucky me then”.

“Lucky you” he agreed.

Tugging at his hand, you moved on to the next painting, and then the next one, and so on. Not a second had gone by in which you had let go of each other’s hand as you commented on the different paintings and the meanings behind each of them — the two of you finding yourselves having the time of your lives as you gave him your take on them and he confirmed whether or not it was what he had tried to portray.

That was what each of you liked about art so much, the fact that there was no wrong answer and you could discuss it so freely. Sure, he had something in mind the moment he painted each one of his pieces, but it was always fun to see what the rest of the people would feel when they looked at them.

And, for some reason, it was particularly enjoyable to him when it came to discussing art with you. So he had found out back when he invited you to one of his friend’s exhibits. It was different than talking about it with his friends, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that, unlike them, you actually knew about art, or just the fact that it was you.

Maybe both.

Tightening your hold on his hand when there were only four more artworks left, you moved on to the next one, having your jaw drop at the sight of it.

“Hey, this is the one I fixed” you blurted out in both surprise and excitement, unconsciously moving closer to it and dragging Taehyung with you so you could appreciate it better.

Although you were excited to see it there, you couldn’t help but feel your face heat up at the memories it brought back — the fact that you had collided with it and spilled coffee on it, still being both upsetting and embarrassing as hell.

You remembered quite well the way you had ran out in search of an art shop to find the necessary supplies to fix it before Taehyung could get home. Maybe you should have been faster. Not like that would’ve been of too much help, though, for whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not, you knew very well he would’ve noticed something was off with his newest creation right away.

Looking at the different shades of blue and touches of yellow right then brought you back to that night you pulled an all-nighter, meticulously trying to recreate his painting — the hardest part being that you had only got to see it for a split second before the coffee that used to be on your —by then— broken mug had ruined it. You could only be thankful that it had been just a particular part of the painting and not all of it.

Staring into the picture, you had to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to it and trace your fingers over the pair of eyes you could tell apart in yet another one of his abstract works. You had not truly paid attention to them that one night you spent in Taehyung’s living room fixing his painting, for you had been way too invested in the details you had ruined. And you couldn’t help but feel relieved over the fact that the hot liquid had not touched the eyes he had so perfectly portrayed, for although they looked quite familiar somehow, you weren’t sure you would have been able to do any justice to them.

“I didn’t think you were actually displaying it” you mumbled after a few seconds, eyes still fixed on the painting.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he cocked one of his eyebrows. “Not to be that guy, but it’s quite good”.

“Yes,” you agreed in a heartbeat. “But you can tell one part of it is quite different to the rest of it”.

“You did a good job fixing it, princess” he recognized. “No one could really tell the difference”.

“I can tell” you mumbled.

Taehyung laughed under his breath. “Will you just look up to its title?”

Doing as told out of curiosity, your eyes darted up in a heartbeat — feeling them well up with tears when you read what the label above the artwork said.

“Sweet Night”, ft. Ariel.

Looking up to hold back the tears you felt so dumb for even having in the first place, you shook your head as the corners of your lips curved slightly up. “You did not just credit me after being the one to ruin it to begin with”.

“Hey, I wasn’t taking full credit over something I didn’t completely paint” he stated. “Plus, it’s smart, don’t you think? No one will ever know this Ariel person is no other than the infamous Kim Y/N”.

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” he stated.

You bit your bottom lip, no longer being able to hold back your smile and letting it part your lips like it had been threatening to. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh under his breath over how adorable he thought you were, not even dreaming of stopping himself when he let go of your hand and placed his arm over your shoulders instead, pulling you closer to him as the two of you stared into the artwork in front.

“Why ‘Sweet Night’?” you wondered, leaning your head on his body.

He shrugged. “It’s silly”.

“Come onnn,” you pouted, pulling slightly away so you could look at him. “Out of all the paintings here, you can’t leave out the explanation to this particular one”.

Taehyung sighed, knowing well enough that, one, you were right, and, two, you were not letting this go until he told you.

“It was inspired by that one night I came home to you and Sungjin” he said rather bitterly, remembering pretty well how he had not been fazed at all by the fact that you and said guy had obviously been making out right before, yet feeling his blood boil at the mere thought of it now. “We stayed up late eating lots and lots of sweet popcorn because I had way too many of them and you became addicted to them and how well they went with wine” a small laugh escaped his mouth at the memory. “So I just went with that. Plus, you were being really sweet that night and it was the first time I got to see that side of you, so…”

“That is really sweet” you mumbled, feeling the heat reach your cheeks.

“Don’t” he pleaded.

You laughed. “It truly is sweet, Vante” the way your eyes had softened at the sight of him, had his heart skipping a beat. “What do the eyes mean, though?”

“You just want to torture me by now” he called you out.

“I’m just asking!” you defended yourself with a giggle.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, feeling the heat reach his face as he intently focused on the painting, evading your eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve never been a fan of people having their full attention on me, I don’t like being the center of attention… I mean, I told you today how I was not looking forward to the moment I would have to give a speech in front of all my guests” you nodded, remembering how you had tried to cheer him up when it came to that. “So I don’t really talk about my art… or about art in general, to anyone. I just show it to them and let them interpret it, that’s what art is about, after all. But that one night you asked me a lot about my art and I actually felt like talking about it with you, and I remember the way your eyes were fixed on me almost as if you were scared you would miss some kind of important detail,” he laughed lightly. “And for the first time I liked the attention. I guess that inspired me enough to paint this”.

“So those are my eyes?” you asked.

He shrugged. “It’s up for interpretation”.

You shook your head in amusement, staring down as you felt your face burning. “You’re the worst”.

Taehyung chuckled, pulling you closer to him with the arm that was still around your shoulders, and using his free hand to place two fingers under your chin and make you look up at him. “Am I now?”

You felt your breathing become heavier the second his nose faintly bumped on yours — his lips only centimeters away from your anticipating ones. Too intimidated by him right then, knowing well enough he had you wrapped around his finger, you managed to shake your head no to answer his question, without taking your eyes away from his for even a second. Or well, that until his chocolate ones travelled down to your mouth.

Staring down into his tempting lips as they slowly came closer to yours, you looked up to his eyes for a split second, just enough to catch a glimpse of the way his remained fixed on your mouth. And then, you saw nothing — eyes instinctively closing when his lips softly trapped your bottom one.

Just one touch of his lips made you wonder how you had managed to go on all these weeks without getting a taste of them again.

“I thought you didn’t do this whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing?” you whispered against his lips, opening your eyes to find his dark ones already fixed on you.

A small, breathy laugh escaped his mouth, leaning in so it would faintly brush against yours. “I’m not kissing you as a friend”.

Your lips parted into a smile, not letting another second go by before you pressed your lips to his, making him smile and cup your face in his hands just like he had done weeks ago with the intention of deepening the kiss.

With your arms wrapping around his neck, you pulled him closer to your body, letting go of the kiss for a second to catch your breath and having him take advantage of your slightly open mouth to trap your bottom lip in his eager ones again, this time tracing his tongue over it and slipping it inside your still open mouth — meeting your awaiting one in the middle just the way he wanted.

Letting go of your face, one of his hands travelled down to your lower back so he could feel you even closer, fingers tracing their way down your bare arms as he did so, and feeling goosebumps form on your skin.

“You’re cold?” he asked, taking one second to catch his breath before his wet lips were back on yours.

You shook your head no, a small, shy laugh escaping your mouth. “I didn’t get chills because I’m cold”.

Taehyung bit his lip, feeling the corners of his mouth curving up and pressing one last kiss to your lips before finally pulling away from you as his eyes were intently fixed on yours.

“I will keep my coat to myself then” he teased you.

“Nope,” you were quick to deny. “I am taking you up on the coat offer when we leave”.

“Okay” he laughed lightly, the hand that was still on your face travelling down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Shall we go?”

You shook your head no quite effusively. “We’re not done with the exhibit yet!”

“I’m hungry, let’s go eat something” Taehyung whined. “We can come back some other day”.

“Yah,” you called him out. “I came all the way here just to see your artworks”.

Your words earned a somewhat bitter pout from him. “Thought you had come all the way over here to see me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that, tugging on his hand to pull him closer, and then making him replace said pout with a smile when you pressed two chaste kisses to his mouth. “It was implicit” your teasing words had him rolling his eyes. “We only have three more to go and then I’m all yours”.

He smirked, pulling you with him to the next piece. “I like the sound of that”.

“I meant it as in, then we can go get some food” you mumbled, feeling your face burning for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I know” he pecked your lips. “Doesn’t change that I enjoy the sound of that”.

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

sometimes i think, "this enstars character is kind of boring, they're literally just vibing" and then i realize that it's because enstars is a story where you need to really use your brain and connect a lot of dots. when it comes to characters whose stories i actually spent time reading and thinking about, i can write paragraphs about what core internal struggle they are struggling with. but i come up short for characters i don't spend time thinking about, even if they appear in all the same stories.

for example,

Ritsu: my family has some kind of genetic disease that makes us extremely weak to the sunlight. this disease is particularly severe in me, so socializing with others was pointlessly difficult for most of my life. i therefore had only maa-kun and my elder brother with me. then my older brother disappeared for reasons i could not understand and i've had abandonment issues since. also, because my elder brother of 10 months is a genius who has acted like an adult figure for me (and many other actual adults), i have problems with emotional maturity. combined with the difficulty even staying awake, i often don't do anything to solve my problems and just stew and feel bad about it. in !! I am actively working to solve problems as I see them, but I instead get extremely stressed because I care so much about so many things and people now.

Izumi Sena: I have problems with perfectionism. I have very high expectations for myself so I work very hard. I am also a huge softie and love looking after others but I've seen Shit Go Down when I was a child model and then again in high school. I am now too scared to outwardly be nice, so I am mean and unhinged around the people I care about and act self-centred when really I just want the people I care about to be safe and happy. Also I adopt every single person younger than me, because I was born to be a mom friend, but I can't let anyone know I'm a softie. In addition, I had a major role in my first and (at the time) only friend becoming a hikkikomori and I carry a lot of guilt about that. I continue to have Problems because I am Izumi "even if it's impossible I will achieve it through Sheer Will" Sena and I have managed to perfect the art of expressing my emotions (sometimes by being rather unhinged) without actually addressing any of the trauma they stem from.

Leo: I am full of love for others and give it out unconditionally, even though most people in the world would not give me love in return. I have trouble figuring out when and how to stop giving parts of myself away. Because Sena is a kind guy who is also really good at looking after me, I thought it would be okay if it was him. I basically gave him my life and did everything in my power to help him fulfil his wishes even if I did not agree. This resulted in our relationship falling apart and me becoming a hikkikomori. I recognise that gave too much of myself to Sena once but then I did that again 2 years later because this is still An Issue, and because Sena also has Problems and we kinda enable each other.

Madara: I wish I could become a hero and save people, but I do not have the power to do so. I do not even have the right to do so, given how steeped i am in underhanded dealings. I instead scaled my goals down to just protecting those i love, but even then they continue to get hurt and traumatised and I can only pick up the pieces and threaten their enemies. I am often seen as a threat and I agree with this assessment. (I push my loved ones towards those who can heal them but I still feel as worthless and dirty as a sack of shit.) Deep down, I still wish I could be a pure, sparkling hero like those in Ryuseitai.

Arashi: i dunno to be honest i never actually read her stories. something about loving all parts of yourself even if others don't affirm you and being afraid of losing people maybe

Tsukasa: i dunno i never rly thought about him, he's just struggling to keep his senpais in line. as far as i can tell he's generally quite well-adjusted, if a bit naive and ambitious.

anyway, my point is: please add on summaries of the internal struggles of your enstars faves!! it's a real shame that all these nuanced struggles are so hard to see and i would love to learn more about what their stories hold!

[sixteenthshen]

post-finale stuff

Possible spoilers. Beware

Last night, I happened to check the scriptwriter's Weibo and saw that she had liked this fan's post. It's the only non-work related Weibo post that she had liked, so of course, I went to read it. 

The fact that this is the only fan post she's given her approval to must mean that it is on point and she agrees with the characterisation. I thought it's pretty good, so I've gone ahead to translate it here. I own 0 rights to this. I just thought it's a good perspective that may help others like me who struggled with the ending. 

I think I've mostly made my peace with it now, and to sum it up:

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all that they are. 

A-Xu never once blamed Lao Wen for how things turned out because he understood that. And he’s clearly a better person than I am (lol).

Let me be clear about my stand - the real victim of how the drama unfolded in the last six episodes is WKX. When we feel our hearts ache for ZZS, it's because the show let down WKX (the character). If your heart is only hurting for WKX during episodes 33-34, you should try to ship WKX with someone else, ok? If you think the last six episodes were great and that WKX was very romantic (and only romantic), then I honestly don't know what to say. 

I ship wenzhou. That means I like both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu. I want them to love each other, be good to each other and live happily ever after. And I want them not to be OOC. 

The rest behind the cut. Spoilers for the whole drama. 

------- 

First, the source. Here is a link to that Weibo post, by 爱吐槽的栗小姐. I will delete this if requested by the OP - because this is really in a grey area imo. But I think the intention of a public post is for it to be shared? (especially something like this, which argues a point) 

Secondly, the poster does try to be fair in her post, but as the problem here is WKX's ruined characterisation, ZZS's character is analysed primarily concerning this issue only. There's quite a bit left to ZZS's character and backstory that isn't relevant. I believe that's why the post doesn't elaborate on it, or so I hope.

-------

Ever since WKX faked his death, I received three to four waves of fellow sister fans' mournful wails: "Lao Wen actually faked his death; does he have a heart?" "They were supposed to be of the same heart and treat each other with honesty. How did they regress?" "What happened to their innate soulmate-ness?" "Why does A-Xu always say to face things together, yet Lao Wen always keeps his plans from him?" "A-Xu loves Lao Wen, yet Lao Wen only loves himself"…….

Wait. What have you guys misunderstood about the meaning of soulmates? 

Soulmates are about values, but a person's behaviour… that's methodology FFS! 

(Do they no longer teach this in political affairs class in high school anymore?) 

Wenzhou, these soulmates, are incomparably compatible and mesh well in terms of values. According to the scriptwriter, the entire jianghu wants and tries to get the pieces of Glazed Armour, save the two of them. Not only do they not care for the peerless martial arts, immense power, nor the massive wealth that the Glazed Armour represents, they don't even care for the power they hold in their hands –Ghost Valley and the Window of Heaven. Both of them willing to give it up without a second thought. 

Before they met each other, they were so tired of (ZZS) and so angry at (WKX) this earthly world that they didn't even want to live on anymore. 

After they met each other, they gradually began to feel the warmth in this world again. How nice it would be if they could live in seclusion, hand in hand and just bask in the sun. 

In this world, where everyone else is fighting for power or wealth, they are true soulmates. To intelligent people like them, whether or not they're honest about their identities or secrets is merely a matter of formality. They had already determined their attraction to the other's soul early on and have never doubted it. 

There may be some here who would criticise loudly at this point, "Then can't you be more considerate for your soulmate (the actual phrased used is "spiritual companion")? A-Xu has said many times, let's face everything together, I'll bet that you will be honest with me. If you really love him, then why can't you care for his feelings?" 

----- You guys, you've never been married. 

If two souls meeting can naturally resolve all behavioural conflicts and disagreements, then the theory of "breaking in" * would not exist. 

Let us take a look at what kind of a person WKX and ZZS each are.

Wen Kexing, he's a lone wolf. 

After his parents' death and his entering the Ghost Valley, his smooth sailing life suddenly fell off a cliff. Ever since then, the only person he could rely on was himself. That deep-seated hatred is carved into his bones, yet he can't speak of it to anyone else. He isn't the same type of person as the rest of the ghosts in the Ghost Valley; he isn't the same type of person as A-Xiang, who he raised. If we talk about the world and everyone who lives in it, he doesn't have any fetters or feels any (positive) emotions. 

His supposed craziness is a form of indifference. He's indifferent to others' lives, nor his own, because he just doesn't care. (T/N: I think he does care for his own life, but only for revenge, after that, he's indifferent. Indifferent isn't suicidal. I don't know why some fans seem to be confusing the two. Although he didn't plan to, if he somehow manages to stay alive after getting his revenge, WKX will continue to live on, even if it's only to keep A-Xiang happy because he is indifferent.)

Growing up like this, being solitary became his style. He's used to doing everything alone, used to making his own decisions, used to digesting all his emotions himself. 

Every time he argues with A-Xu, he digests his emotions himself. The next day, he faces A-Xu with a smile again. 

This is how he loves, to take it upon himself to face danger, difficulty and pain alone. It's how he had supported A-Xiang all these years in the Ghost Valley and what he's used to. 

While Zhou Zishu, he's a lead horse (of a herd). ** 

Since a very young age, he's taught to take responsibility. He's used to bearing everything on his shoulders, be it the responsibility of his family or the responsibility for the Four Seasons Manor, even the responsibility for saving commoners from disasters. 

Unlike the lone wolf, the lead horse is ultimately a social animal. 

Regardless of his identity as the Manor Lord of the Four Seasons Manor or the Leader of the Window of Heaven, he's always the one to lead the herd and rarely fights alone. So, A-Xu not only has leadership ability but more than that, he also knows how to be tolerant and accepting of the differences of his team members. You can see the various ways he managed to influence Lao Wen along the road; he's firm when he needs to be and soft the other times. It's absolutely textbook in managing your lover workplace management. 

Zhou Zishu believes in communication whenever there's a problem, that they should be open and honest. So, teamwork is what he's used to. 

Does it mean that when a horse and lone wolf fall in love, that there won't be a breaking in period? 

Obviously not. 

I guess this is where some may say again, "isn't this part of a character's arc/development? The two of them quarrel time and time again. Did WKX not grow at all from it?" 

Of course, after meeting each other, they both grew and saved each other.

When he first left Window of Heaven, A-Xu was lonely with regret. Unlike the lone wolf who's used to doing everything alone, a lead horse without the last of his herd has no way to bear the bone-deep loneliness and merciless self-recrimination.

ZZS wandered around this world aimlessly until Lao Wen started pestering him, until he picked up Zhang Chengling, right up until he felt he hadn't singlehandedly destroyed the Four Seasons Manor. This lead horse finally regained a goal in life. He gained a partner and a lover. Lao Wen sticks to him, Chengling relies on him, and the abandoned Four Seasons Manor became like-new in his hands. He finally reconciles with himself. 

When he first came out of the valley, Lao Wen carried a rage strong enough to burn the world down. But when he met A-Xu, he also met the beauty of the world. 

When the Four Sages of Anji died, WKX understood how he caused innocent suffering. When Gao Chong walked to his death knowingly, he understood that although some may desire power, they could still be righteous and upstanding people. When he learned of everything Long Que sacrificed to protect his family***, he finally relaxed his guard. 

There were so many types of good people and things that he saw along this journey that he hadn't seen in the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu told him he was a good person as they basked in the sun, he genuinely wanted to return to the human (vs ghost) realm and be a good man. 

Along their journey, A-Xu made up for the morals and values that WKX lost in the Ghost Valley and showed him a new world outlook. He appeased Lao Wen's anger, tempered his extremism. The process wasn't easy, but not that difficult either, because, in the end, Lao Wen is kind at heart. 

But in the end, being a lone wolf is how he survived and succeeded in a place like the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu was so heavily injured and needed a lot of rest (for Wu Xi) to save his life, Lao Wen suddenly recalled his enemies and how such an excellent opportunity to take revenge just fell into his lap. Everything was in place, and all he needed to do was hide it from A-Xu; he could leave for a short while and have it settled quickly. Upon returning, he could then live happily ever after with his wife. To a crazy lone wolf, why would he not take a gamble? 

What he couldn't predict was the news would've been leaked (to A-Xu), and he didn't know that by doing so, he would've forever lost his love. 

Both of them were using their own methods to love the other person. Zhou Zishu is more forgiving and accepting because being forgiving is in his blood. While what WKX learned in his years in the Ghost Valley is -- love needs to be protected, like how he has A-Xiang, who he considers a sister, call himself master (to protect her). 

Only when faced with painful consequences can a person's deep-rooted habits and approach to things change. So I don't think faking his death ruined the characterisation of Wen Kexing, but I regret that the last two episodes did not have a scene to show us Lao Wen's heartbreak when he learns the truth. 

Until I know what it feels like to have lost you, I will only love you in my own way. 

T/N: 

*I can't think of the correct phrase for this as I don't read all that much about relationships >< please let me know if you know of it. Here, I'm referring to the process of wearing something new (like shoes) that will hurt at the start until it becomes soft and comfortable. 

** I did some side-reading, and omg, A-Xu is TOTALLY the lead mare. Although he's not the stallion and weak/dying for most of the show, he's the head of their little family, and he expects "to be obeyed", aka, I'm not going to learn how to cook. Call me for dinner. Kthxbye. 

From Rutgers' website: A herd of wild horses consists of one or two stallions, a group of mares, and their foals. The leader of the herd is usually an older mare (the "alpha mare"), even though one stallion owns the herd. She maintains her dominant role even though she may be physically weaker than the others. The older mare has had more experiences, more close encounters, and survived more threats than any other horse in the herd. The requirement of the lead horse is not strength or size; if this were so, then humans could never dominate a horse. Dominance is established not only through aggression but also through attitudes that let the other horses know she expects to be obeyed.

***I think this is important here because WKX wasn't crying for his loss. I think a big part of him was realising not everyone in the world was callous and turned their backs on his parents, that he could've gone his whole life without ever discovering what sacrifices some people have made. Good people suffer quietly and in silence. It's a big moment to realise he was wrong about many things that he had let hatred blind himself to the world. Because although he was sad about the Four Sages and somewhat shocked by Gao Chong's death, he hadn't truly faced up to his actions until now. 

(screenshot of the scriptwriter liking the above post) 

------

To add: 

I'm not sure how many of you read my "opinion" posts, but I've been struggling to find a way to accept the last six episodes of Word of Honor.  I first tried looking at open forum postings, comments, and Tumblr posts. None of it worked because it was just arguing and emotions and no one made points good enough for me to accept things. 

So I gave up and went back to reading Chinese sites. I found many posts discussing the plot. Some I liked, some I didn't, but none satisfied my need for a reasonable explanation. I felt they had biases (both ways), or else it lacked logic. After a time, I realised that I should be looking for WKX-stans (or pro-WKX fans) because they would be more motivated to explain his side, but also because well-written posts by wenzhou-fans & ZZS-stans made me super sad.

I'm sorry, but those who keep trying to explain why the ending was good completely missed that episodes 32-34 are the real problem to those who don't like it and only focused on 36. I can understand if people don't think those episodes are a problem, but no one could provide an articulate and sensible reason. There are just too few well-reasoned plot-focused posts in English (sorry). I've seen too many examples of WKX-fans arguing with people who are upset about the ending, backed by nothing more than "look how much WKX suffers, woe is him. And how romantic is this????" *dies* 

Lastly, if you spot anything inaccurate, let me know & I will correct it.

[a-simple-imagine]

Study Date

Requested by anonymous: “Hermione Granger x reader where reader is best friends with Luna and has a crush on Hermione. She never acts on those feelings because Hermione called Luna Looney and seems to dislike her and in the end maybe Luna sets them up. “

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 2.3k+

A/N - Today i offer you yet another story about hermione granger. Tomorrow? Who knows. 

Thank you to @kileyrose-2003​ for checking it over.

Hermione Granger was a complete enigma but that was probably due to the fact there was only so much you could learn through limited interactions. If there was one thing you knew about her, it was that she was a spectacular witch with a thirst for knowledge. She had been placed in Gryffindor all those years ago but she truly could have excelled as a Ravenclaw; if that had been the case perhaps the two of you would be closer. Things would have been entirely different but alas you were left to admire from afar since that very first year when you noticed her across the Great Hall. You didn't even have any classes together until you started taking electives. However, as hard as you tried Hermione Granger seemed to avoid you at all costs. You had invited her to hang out many times but she always declined. Maybe Ron and Harry were the limits of her social perimeters?

A hand sways before your eyes drawing you back to reality. "So easily distracted."

Luna Lovegood had such a melodic, soft voice that it was weirdly hard to ignore. Then again everything about the girl could be considered peculiar which was something you greatly admired. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and yet you cared so desperately what they thought of you. "Sorry," You hum, folding the paper in your hands. "I just... do you think there is something wrong with me?"

"No more than anyone else,"

"Maybe that's why she doesn't like me," You let out a defeated sigh before placing the origami tiger you had been working on down on the table.

"Who?"

From the corner of your eyes, you spot a familiar brunette wander into the Great Hall. A few books wedged under her arm. "Can you just give me a sec-"

Without giving Luna a chance to respond, you leap to your feet and scramble along the length of the entire table and then around to catch Hermione.

"Wait," You place your hand against her shoulder, startling her just a little. "Hermione,"

She spins on her heel; her frown morphing into that of a welcoming smile. At least she seemed happy to see you. "Yes?"

"I..." you trail off as a wave of heat washes over you. The Gryffindor always managed to make you feel anxious. It wasn't a bad thing; you knew it was because you liked her but with her already taking every opportunity to ignore you it didn't exactly help the situation. "I was wondering if you uh, wanted to play with us? Me and Luna, I mean."

It sounded rather childish slipping from your lips but Hermione's brow quirked up. "What are you playing?"

"We're having a race," Your expression brightens at her interest, signalling back to the Ravenclaw table where Luna now sat alone. "We both made something out of paper and we’re gonna enchant them so they run the racecourse we made." To the left of Luna was a makeshift racetrack made of books, cups and even your spare inks and quills. It was only small so it'd be a quick race before lunch began. "If I win Luna promised to make my bed every day for a week. If she wins she gets my last bag of Fizzing Whizzbees."

"Shouldn't you be studying during study hall?" Seems Miss Granger was all work and no play. You simply shrug, standing a little taller.

"I'm smart enough already," You declare proudly, a cocky smirk on full display. "And besides it’s nearly lunchtime so we were long overdue a break."

You watch her eyes drift from yours over to where Luna was sat and back. "You two are quite the pair."

"Me and Luna?" As if she could sense you talking about her, Luna waves at the two of you. "She's like my best friend."

"You don't find her a little... strange to be around?" Hermione muses. "A little... loony perhaps? Half the school thinks she's lost her mind."

She was right in saying that a lot of your fellow students judged Luna harshly for being a little more outside the box but you never expected Hermione to be one of them. "I think... she's awesome and I'm glad she's my friend. You shouldn't judge her so harshly when you don't even know her."

You may have invited her to join you but that offer was no longer on the table as you marched back to the Ravenclaw table without another word. Slumping down in your seat exasperated sigh. "Are you okay?"

Plastering on a smile, you give her a firm nod. "Shall we start?"

"What happened over there? You seemed rather excited before."

"Nothing," Focusing on the origami, you pick up your wand.

"You shouldn't bottle things up," Luna expresses softly, picking up her wand too. "Might make your head explode."

"Does it ever bother you that people call you crazy?" You wonder.

"Not really," her head shakes. "It's all in good fun."

You never understood if Luna's belief in people was misguided or just for show. If the roles were reversed you'd certainly not enjoy having people make fun of you. "But what if it's not?"

"Then it's out of my control," Luna flashes a smile. "Shall we start."

With a nod of your head and wands at the ready, Luna starts the countdown. "3... 2..." your grip tightens around your wand. "1.... Go"

With a flick of your wrist, the paper tiger springs to life but it takes a few nudges from the end of your wand to get it moving. When you saw Luna's monstrosity trailing behind, you knew you had this race in the bag.

"I don't think Hermione likes you very much," you don't know why you decided to tell her that, it seemed only cruel in the moment. "I don't think she likes me much either as hard as I try,"

"Maybe you should stop trying," Luna's focus was exclusively on the race as you watch her. Maybe you should stop trying... that was easier for her to say because she didn't find herself with butterflies every time she saw the girl. Searching the Gryffindor table, you find Hermione sitting alone; scribbling away on a piece of parchment. "Staring can be considered quite rude, y'know?" 

Glancing back at the race, you find both racers have crossed the finish line and were now laying completely still against the table. Students were beginning to pile into the hall for lunch so it was time to clean up a little. "Sometimes it's hard not to," Reaching over the table you grab your quill. "She's just interesting- who won by the way?"

"It was you," Did you win or was she just being nice? It didn't matter now anyway so you may as well take the win.

You haven't spoken to Hermione since that day she had the audacity to question your friendship with Luna. You didn't necessarily think she had meant what she said in a bad way but it just hadn't sat right with you. It also helped that the only class you shared was Defence Against the Dark Arts so she wasn't all that hard to avoid. The page of your textbook flips over with a gust of wind as you lounge against the stone archways in the quiet courtyard. When you spot Harry, Ron and Hermione, you bury your face behind your book in hopes of not drawing any attention. If you didn't acknowledge she was there maybe you wouldn't long to run over.

"Hey," Slowly lowering the book, you spy the girl in herself looking perkier than usual. Seemingly having abandoned her friends just to come and speak to you.

"Hello," you reply quietly, keeping your eyes on the page. It was explaining how to create the Forgetfulness Potion; a beginner level potion and not at all hard to make.

"Luna said you'd be out here," You glance up at the mention of your friend's name. Why had she been talking to Luna? "And that you may require a study partner,"

Strange. She had never wanted to study with you before. "You don't have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

Hermione shakes her head. "Luna can be quite convincing but if you'd rather study alone, I can go."

"No," the reply comes a little too quickly. "I mean, uh... you can stay. I'd really like the company."

"Great, Ron and Harry are rather distracting when it comes to studying," She plops herself down at the other end of the archway by the end of your feet. Your knees were now pulled a little closer to your chest, propping up your potions book. "I can quiz you if you want?"

"Can I ask you something?" You pose the question as you sit up a little straighter trying to give her more room; handing over the book in the process.

"Of course," Taking the boom, Hermione's hand brushes over the cover but she opens it and begins flickering through the pages. She had the same textbook so you're not exactly sure what she expects to find.

"Why are you here?" The rustling of pages comes to an abrupt stop as her eyes settle on yours but only for a moment.

"To study?"

"You've never been interested in me before," you reply bluntly. "I don't see what's changed now? What exactly did Luna say?"

"Just that you like me," Wide eyes of surprise, your stomach sinks. She was joking right? She had to be. "And that you think I don't like you which is perplexing. So she told me where you usually go to study and that you'd very much appreciate my company."

"I'm gonna kill her," you growl under your breath, sinking down against the stone. How you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now.

"I also thought it was only right that I apologise for the other day," you can't even bring yourself to reply; too scared you'll somehow embarrass yourself further. "I shouldn't have spoken about Luna that way- I also apologised to her. Are you ready?"

Anything to help forget about what Luna had purposely done, you nod your head a little. Setting this whole thing up was a sweet enough idea but she didn't have to straight-up tell Hermione that you liked her. Hopefully, you could just play it off as friends. A silence settled between the two of you as Hermione searches through your book. "I'm gonna say a potion and you just have to list the ingredients, simple enough?" You can feel her eyes on you but can't bring yourself to look back. "You alright?"

"Mhmm,"

"Are you sure?" She questions. "I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything. I'm sure Luna had the best of intentions."

"Just say a potion," It's even more awkward when she brings it up the fact Luna told her. "Please,"

"Okay, how about... Draught of Living Death?"

"Uh..." for a second your mind seems completely blank. Taking a deep breath you settle your nerves a little. "Standard potioning water, Powdered Root of Asphodel..." your brow furrows in concentration. "Infusion of... Wormwood? Valerian root, A Sopophorous bean and-"

"Sloth brain," Hermione finishes. "Good job. Okay, let's try..." The pages flutter between her fingers for a moment. "Exstimulo Potion."

Exstimulo potion. You rake your brain for any memory of it; If you remember correctly it was a potion used to boost magical energy. It was a beginning level potion so it won't be too complicated to make. "Re'em blood... Granian hair, Snowdrop maybe, and like... uh... Bitter root?"

"For an extra point, what colour should it be?"

That you knew almost instantly. "sky blue."

With each passing question, your confidence grew around the same speed as Hermione's smile did. You liked to think that your extensive knowledge of potions was impressive but in all honesty, some wouldn't see it that way. "You are really good at this,"

"I enjoy potions. They value knowledge over skill more than some of the other classes- that's not to say potion-making doesn't require skill and vice-versa. " You explain, moving so your legs now dangle over the edge similar to how Hermione was sitting. "It's probably my best class but I like the study of ancient runes too. What about you? I imagine you're brilliant no matter the class."

"I wouldn't go that far," Her gentle laugh fills your ears, filling you with such an innocent sense of glee. "I like most of my classes though, I would take more if I could."

"Of course you would," You giggle to yourself. "I heard in the past you used a time-turner just to attend more classes."

"Guilty," She offers you a smile. You'd done research on time turners, they were interesting little devices but it took a lot of guts to use one. "It was worth it."

"It's a pretty smart way to use one," No surprise considering who you're talking to.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Anything." Hermione fiddles with the corner of the page she has settled on.

"When Luna said you like me, I'm guessing she meant..."

The fire in your cheeks spread hot and fast which had the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. She really had to bring it up again? She couldn't have just ignored it and moved on? "...yeah." You admit quietly. Handing your textbook back, Hermione slips down onto her feet

"So this was her way of setting us up... hmm," Spinning on her heel, she looks to the sky. The sun was beginning to set so it was illuminated by an orange glow. "For a girl so imaginative I would have expected something a little more than a study date."

"I like studying," She sharply turns back to you.

"As do I," She offers a gentle smile. "But I think we should do something a little more traditional for a first date, don't you?"

"First date?"

"Only if you want to,"

"I... yeah. I'd love to."

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

a dancer

The heartbreaking letter to dance that Nureyev wrote while dying of AIDS

“It was the smell of my skin changing, it was getting ready before class, it was running away from school and after working in the fields with my dad because we were ten brothers, walking those two kilometers to dance school.

I would never have been a dancer, I couldn't afford this dream, but I was there, with my shoes worn on my feet, with my body opening to music, with the breath making me above the clouds. It was the sense I gave to my being, it was standing there and making my muscles words and poetry, it was the wind in my arms, it was the other guys like me that were there and maybe wouldn't be dancers, but we swapped the sweat, silences, barely. For thirteen years I studied and worked, no auditions, nothing, because I needed my arms to work in the fields. But I didn't care: I learned to dance and dance because it was impossible for me not to do it, it was impossible for me to think I was elsewhere, not to feel the earth transforming under my planted feet, impossible not to get lost in music, impossible not not to get lost in music using my eyes to look in the mirror, to try new steps. Everyday I woke up thinking about the moment I would put my feet inside my slippers and do everything by tasting that moment. And when I was there, with the smell of camphor, wood, tights, I was an eagle on the rooftop of the world, I was the poet among poets, I was everywhere and I was everything.

I remember a ballerina Elèna Vadislowa, rich family, well taken care of, beautiful. She wanted to dance as much as I did, but later I realized it wasn't like that. She danced for all the auditions, for the end of the course show, for the teachers watching her, to pay tribute to her beauty. Two years prepared for the Djenko contest. The expectations were all about her. Two years she sacrificed part of his life. She didn't win the contest. She stopped dancing, forever. She didn't resist. That was the difference between me and her. I used to dance because it was my creed, my need, my words that I didn't speak, my struggle, my poverty, my crying. I used to dance because only there my being broke the limits of my social condition, my shyness, my shame. I used to dance and I was with the universe on my hands, and while I was at school, I was studying, arriving in the fields at six am, my mind endured because it was drunk with my body capturing the air.

I was poor, and they paraded in front of me guys performing for pageants, they had new clothes, they made trips. I didn't suffer from it, my suffering would have been stopping me from entering the hall and feeling my sweat coming out of the pores of my face. My suffering would have been not being there, not being there, surrounded by that poetry that only the sublimation of art can give. I was a painter, poet, sculptor.

The first dancer of the year-end show got hurt. I was the only one who knew every move because I had inhaled, quietly every step. They made me wear his new, shiny clothes and dictated me after thirteen years, the responsibility to demonstrate. Nothing was different in those moments I danced on stage, I was like in the hall with my clothes off. I was and I used to perform, but it was dancing that I cared. The applause reached me far away. Behind the scenes, all I wanted was to take off those uncomfortable tights, but everyone's compliments and I had to wait. My sleep wasn't different from other nights. I had danced and whoever was watching me was just a cloud far away on the horizon. From that moment my life changed, but not my passion and need to dance. I kept helping my dad in the fields even though my name was on everyone's mouth. I became one of the brightest stars in dance.

Now I know I'm going to die, because this disease doesn't forgive, and my body is trapped in a pram, blood doesn't circulate, I lose weight. But the only thing that goes with me is my dance my freedom to be. I'm here, but I dance with my mind, fly beyond my words and my pain. I dance my being with the wealth I know I have and will follow me everywhere: that I have given myself the chance to exist above effort and have learned that if you experience tiredness and effort dancing, what if you dance sits for effort, if we pity our bleeding feet, if we chase only the aim and don't understand the full and unique pleasure of moving, we don't understand the deep essence of life, where the meaning is in its becoming and not in appearing. Every man should dance, for life. Not being a dancer, but dancing.

Who will never know the pleasure of walking into a hall with wooden bars and mirrors, who stops because they don't get results, who always needs stimulus to love or live, hasn't entered the depths of life, and will abandon every time life won't give him what he wants. It's the law of love: you love because you feel the need to do it, not to get something or to be reciprocated, otherwise you're destined for unhappiness. I'm dying, and I thank God for giving me a body to dance so that I wouldn't waste a moment of the wonderful gift of life.”

[translated from the Italian: Ale Ada Innocente]