#even my art is ugly and horrible and not worth leaving behind. people tell me to work to improve it but i dont have the time left

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[2tired2study]

hi! i’ve recently finished the picture of dorian gray so let’s go over my favorite quotes (in order from the ones that appear in the book first to last)

if they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat

being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose i know

and as for believing things, i can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible

when our eyes met, i felt that i was growing pale. a curious sensation of terror came over me. i knew that i had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if i allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself

he, too, felt that we were destined to know each other

laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one

a man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies

i like persons better than principles, and i like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world

every day. i couldn’t be happy if i didn’t see him every day. he is absolutely necessary to me

he is all my art to me now

it is only the intellectually lost who ever argue

and the mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing

there is no such thing as a good influence, mr gray. all influence is immoral; immoral from the scientific point of view

he becomes an echo of someone else’s music

but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul

some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires,you will feel it, you will feel it terribly

man is many things, but he is not rational

examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him

behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic

there was something fascinating in this son of love and death

really! and where do bad americans go to when they die?... they go to america

well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth

all i want now is to look at life. you may come and look at it with me, if you care to

punctuality is the thief of time

it is only the sacred things that are worth touching

when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving ones self, and one always ends by deceiving others

there is always something infinitely mean about other peoples tragedies

how different he was now than the shy frightened boy he had met in basil hallwards studio! his nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of scarlet flame. out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and desire had come to meet it on the way

it is personalities, not principles, that move the age

people are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves

he lives the poetry that he cannot write. the others write the poetry that they dare not realize

human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating

to note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to observe where they had met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a delight in that! what matter was the cost? one could never pay too high a price for any sensation

with his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. it was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. he was like one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir ones sense of beauty, and whose wounds are like red roses

the senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade

all that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sun we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy

it often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves

the joy of a caged bird was in her voice

she was free in her prison of passion

i love him because he is like what love himself should be.

he was like a common gardener walking with a rose

he had the dislike of being stared at, which comes on geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace

to be in love is to surpass ones self

my wonderful lover, my god of graces

i wish i had, for as sure as there is a god in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, i shall kill him

whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives

i don’t want to see dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect

we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices

and unselfish people are colourless. they lack individuality

you are much better than you pretend to be

of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are

he is not like other men. he would never bring misery upon any one. his nature is too fine for that

but i am afraid i cannot claim my theory as my own. it belongs to nature, not to me

no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is

there was a gloom over him

he felt that dorian gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past

any one you love must be marvellous

it is not good for ones morals to see bad acting

there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing

you taught me what reality really is

you had made me understand what love really is

you are more to me than all art can ever be

there is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love

a faint echo of his love came back to him

we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities

when we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us

i cant bear the idea of my soul being hideous

one can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner

it is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion

you were the most unspoiled creature in the whole world

of you wish me never to look at your picture again, i am content. i have always you to look at

from the moment i met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. i was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you

i grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. i wanted to have you all to myself. i was only happy when i was with you

i only knew that i had seen perfection face to face

i grew more and more absorbed in you

you are made to be worshipped

in every pleasure, cruelty has its place

but it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of life that is itself but a moment

out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. we have to resume it where we left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it nat be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance of even joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain

yet, as had been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself

he saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart

art, like nature, has her monsters

is insincerity such a terrible thing? i think not. it is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities

and mind you don’t talk about anything serious. nothing is serious nowadays. at least nothing should be

i am tired of myself tonight. i should like to be someone else

sin is a thing that writes itself across a mans face

you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite

that is the reason why i want you to be fine. you have not been fine

you have a wonderful influence. let it be for good, not for evil

i wonder do i know you? before i could answer that, i should have to see your soul

my god! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, and shameful

so you think it is only god who sees the soul, basil? draw that curtain back, and you will see mine

each of us has heaven and hell in him, basil

you are the one man who is able to save me

don’t speak about those days, dorian—they are dead... the dead linger sometimes

lord henry, i am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked

life is a great disappointment

i like men who have a future and women who have a past

moderation is a fatal thing. enough is as bad as a meal. more than enough is as good as a feast

you always want to know what one has been doing. i always want to forget what i have been doing

his soul, certainly, was sick to death

he was prisoned in thought. memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

ones days were too brief to take the burden of another’s errors on ones shoulders

it is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

to define is to limit

to be popular one must be a mediocrity

romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art

i am searching for peace

the appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists

sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself

horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart

how terrible it was to think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms

he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art

when you and he ceased to be great friends, he ceased to be a great artist

if a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart

art has a soul, but that man had not

the soul is a terrible reality

to get back my youth i would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable

but a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—i tell you, dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend

life has been your art

the books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world it’s own shame

the world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history

it was the living death of his own soul that troubled him

as it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painters work, and all that that meant. it would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free

[crayonwriting]

Irreplaceable You: 7 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by  Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

A/N: So, we’re almost midway to the whole story now. And I don’t know if anyone is still reading this. Haha. But for the sake of this beautiful story, I shall finish it to the end. 

You, who is reading this, I hope you enjoy!

—

"A hundred and fifty dollars? Aren't there anything here that's worth at least five hundred?" Tony inspected each rack of clothes. He would pull one out, look at—more like, judge—it then sigh disappointedly before returning each item. "Can I buy class here?"

"Focus, please." You held up a denim coat before returning it in the rack. "We just need to freshen up Buck's look a little."

"Why is that again?" He questioned, sassily.

"Trust me." You sighed. "Any woman that meets him is gonna want to shop for him." You pulled up a pair of bell-bottom pants with one too many rips. You cringed. "The wrong one will put him in these." You turned your attention to Tony. "What are you doing?"

Tony removed his jacket and tried on an ugly looking vest. Tony pulled on the end of the it, smoothing out the fabric. He checked himself out in the mirror. He spotted your questionable gaze.

“What? You're the only one who gets to make bad decisions because you're dying?” Tony signalled to the assistant nearby. “Terminal cancer. Put it on my bill.”

“You're just so cool with everything.” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I'm not cool with any of this. I've been dying longer than you have.” This made you stare at him. Tony just shrugged. “You get better at it.”

“How?” You interjected.

“Well,” he gestured to his body. “It's like this vest. At first it's, ‘Why is that old man wearing that horrible vest?’ Pretty soon I become the vest guy. After that, you realize that you'd hardly recognize me without it.” He continued to stare at his reflection, somewhat longingly. “I look comfortable in it. It's a part of me, so...you accept it.”

He stared straight at you through the mirror. You shook your head and busied yourself by looking at a nearby rack.

“I don't think I can ever accept you in that vest.” You said, holding out a dark blue jacket towards him. “Try this on. I want to see what it'll look like on Bucky.”

“Okay.” Tony slipped it on and checked his reflection. You made a face at how good it looked on him. He also nodded in approval. “This looks nice. I look three days younger."

“Great.” You patted his chest. “Let’s go look for jeans.” You rushed off to the other side of the store with Tony trailing behind.

—

“Come on.” You pulled your hardest to get the jeans you got for Bucky to fit. You were standing behind him, tugging at the material.

“These... Oh!” Bucky struggled. “They're cutting off my circulation.” He  jumped a few times, wiggling his hips to ease the pants in. He chuckled, almost strained. “Seriously, my ankles are tingling; my feet are asleep!”

You didn’t respond to him as he finally buttoned his pants on. You inspected it carefully before picking up the jacket on the bed and helping him put it on.

“You look hot.” You remarked.

“It's just… Can I ask what this is about?” He tugged the jacket on, adjusting to the fit.

“Just.. Just some retail therapy.” You purse your lips, shrugging nonchalantly. You placed an arm across your chest; your hand under your chin. You looked him up and down, liking the results.  

"And where am I supposed to put my phone?"

You just laughed and walked towards him. You inspected the tag inside the jacket and showed it to him.

"Now… Okay, this jacket is dry clean only. Which means," You looked at him straight in the eye. “If I'm not around, do not put this in the laundry.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Shit. Laundry.”

You held his hand tightly around yours, pulling him out of the bedroom, into the kitchen and then to the small laundry room beside it. You both stood in front of your washing machine. Putting a hand to your waist, you turned to him saying,

“All right, so—”

“Really?” Bucky interrupted, smiling. You gave him a pointed look and he just raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, so…,” you continued.

“I know how to turn it on.” Bucky cut you off once again. He gave you a knowing smile.

“Yeah, I know. But colors, whites, delicates.” You pointed to the various buttons on the machine.

“Right.” Bucky rolled his eyes playfully.

“The dryer sometimes gets stuck, so, uh, you just give it two kicks.” You kicked twice on the lower right corner of the washing machine. “Right here. Like that. And it will generally unstick itself.” Bucky chuckled softly, walking toward you and mimicked your actions.

“Exactly.” You smiled, proud. “Uh, this dial is the minutes. It tells you how much time you have left...”

You looked at Bucky then back at the washing machine letting your words sink in. Bucky looked at you with a pained expression but he did his best to hide it. Oh, how your words filled something more than teaching Bucky how to do the laundry. The air in the room grew thick. Without looking at him, you continued.

"If-if the time runs out before the clothes are ready, you just...turn the dial." You sighed softly, feeling defeated all of a sudden. Your chest felt heavy and your shoulders ached somehow. You looked slowly at Bucky who had the same expression as yours.

You gulped loudly, with eyes looking up at him in  worry. Bucky smiled sadly at you and reached out for your hand, holding it tightly in his. He tilted his head down and kissed you softly on your trembling lips. You kissed him back only for a moment until he pulled away.

He stepped back slowly, waiting for your response. He continued to smile at you encouragingly.

“C’mon…” He whispered, pulling on your hand.

You walked closer to him and leaned up to kiss his lips once again. He kissed you back, pulling you flush against his body. The kiss turned into something more as you poured out your everything—all the pain, fear and struggle you’ve felt since learning about your cancer.

He breathed in, holding on to your arm and kissing you urgently. You kissed him back with much fervor, taking off his glasses and setting it on the counter blindly. He pushed against you, leading you out of the small room and into the kitchen. He lifted you on the kitchen counter, still kissing you. You grabbed and nipped at his lips, hungry for his touch.

A sharp pain shot through your side and you clutched it tightly. You pushed Bucky away with your other hand as you waited for the pain to pass.

“What?” Bucky panted. He eyed you warily. You groaned loudly, shaking your head a little as the pain grew. “Are you okay?” He asked.

You pushed him out of the way, jumping down the kitchen island and ran for the sink. You retched and coughed out the contents of your stomach, clutching the metal sink to keep you steady. Bucky pressed a warm hand against your back, trying to soothe you. He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I tend to have that effect on women.” He chuckled, making you laugh amidst your vomiting. “Too soon?” He asked. You just laughed at him, wiping your mouth. Bucky laughed to himself. “Yeah, too soon.” He grabbed a clean glass and filled it with water before handing it to you.

—

You were relaxing in your ‘treatment suite’ when a gust of something wet touched your face.

“Mom, would you stop?” You wiped at your face, irritated. You opened an eye and saw your mother spraying on some facial mist on her own face.

“Hospitals are very dehydrating.” She looked to you, slapping your hands away from your face. “Don't touch your face. I don't want you to get sick.” You gave her an irritated and knowing look. She shrugged and said, “Well, more sick.”

“Everything going okay in here?” Scott came in, eyeing you. You gave him a pleading look, glancing at your mom. He nodded discreetly.  “Hey, Mom, you want to do me a favor and run down to the cafeteria and get us some Ho Hos?”

“Ho Hos?”

“Yeah. You don't know Ho Hos? They're like little pinwheel cakes. Chocolate covered. They're delicious.”

“How about if I get you a green salad?” She looked at you. You smiled tightly and nodded.

“Great.”

“Green juice.” Your mother stated.

“That sounds great.” Scott interrupted. “Yeah, but don't forget those Ho Hos though. I got a little bit of a sweet tooth.”

“They still make Ho Hos?” She asked gathering her bag, getting ready to go out.

“They still make them.” Scott smiled.

“Thanks, Mom.” You murmured as she kissed your forehead and went out of the room. You looked to Scott and bumped your elbow with his—a secret handshake. “Thanks Scott.”

“No problem.”

—

“Psychology. Spirituality. Oh! Here we go.” You gasped. “Vegetable Gardening for Dummies. Camping for Dummies. Ooh. He could take up Bridge.” You pulled out each book title, adding them to the pile in your arms. “It could help him meet people.” You showed the book to Clint who was on the other end of the aisle.

“Oh. Here's a good one.” He showed the book to you as you neared him. “The Art of Letting Go. Try that.” He smiled, putting the book in your arms. You rolled your eyes at him, putting the book back on the shelf.

“Look, if you don't agree with what I'm doing…”

“I don't. You know I don’t, Y/N.” He eyed you before turning his attention back to the shelf. “But you’re my best friend. Can’t leave you doing shit alone. Even if it is dumb. Plus,” he crossed his arms against his chest, “It’s interesting to see where this idea of yours is gonna go. It’s like a slow-moving car crash.”

“Thanks.” You said, sarcastically. Sighing, you felt your shoulders sag a little. “It's exactly how I feel, actually. It's like I'm heading towards this brick wall, and I can't do anything…” You looked at Clint who was busy on his phone.

“Clint!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Clint pocketed his phone. You huffed out at him in frustration. “Aww, come on. Don’t be mad at me.” He slung an arm around you, pulling you tight.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You shrugged his arm off. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” He pointed to the stacks of books you were carrying. “You're gonna get all of that?”

“Yes.”

“Is Barnes that much of a dummy for you to buy all the dummy books ever published?” He took the books from you as you both walked to the counter.

—

‘Likes vegetable gardening and is learning to play Bridge,’ you typed away at your laptop, updating Bucky’s dating profile. Finishing up, you closed your laptop and set it on the bedside table. You looked at Bucky who lay beside you. The sight made you smile.

He was asleep. His mouth was slightly agape, glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. One of his big, heavy science books lay open on his stomach.

You reached over and pulled off his glasses. He stirred slightly, looking at you with glazed eyes. You smiled down at him, placing his glasses on his bedside table. He languidly placed the book aside, opening up his right arm to you so that you could settle into his side.

You made yourself comfortable, wrapping an arm around his waist. He kissed your forehead and relaxed his body. Out of the blue, a question popped into your mind.

"What if I had run away and joined a cult?"

"I guess…" he said slowly, trying to wake himself up more. "I would have to join too."

"What if relationships between cult members was frowned upon?"

"Like an asexual cult?"

"Yeah. And you couldn't do an intervention and get me out because I was totally brainwashed."

"Hmm." He thought for a moment. "Well, I guess I would have to become a rival cult leader, re-brainwash you according to my philosophy, and then steal you away into my cult," he raised his index finger into the air, "Which would be a sex cult." You laughed lightly.

"What if I were exactly like me, except I had really terrible halitosis?" Bucky looked down at you.

"I would get you a mint." He chuckled. "Or I would destroy the olfactory receptors in my nose so that I didn't care.."

You smiled, pecking his nose. You stared off into the distance.

"What if I die, Buck?"

He didn't answer right away. You regretted ever asking that. Bucky wrapped both of his arms around you, burying his nose into your hair.

"I would…never recover."

You stared into each others eyes, letting the words sink in. He smiled sadly before pulling you closer. You basked in his embrace, letting yourself fall asleep.

—

feedback is greatly appreciated!

Tags: @blueskiesbleakeyes / @justanothergirlwithdemons /  @butteryoptimisticpeanut /  @likes-to-smell-books /  @hennessy0274-blog​

[byjayr-blog]

Divine Femininity, Power of Her Aura - Ella.

I’ve been in the arts and music industry for about 4 years or so now, and inevitably saw how the rise of women in the creative industry hasn’t been getting as much attention, so I’ve decided to start a series based on women all around the world who are in the creative industry. I ask them to share their story with me (and you :) ) as to how they got to where they are today. The series will introduce a new divine woman once a month, as my first post to this series I’d like to introduce July’s divine woman my friend Ella.  

Ella is a Fashion Model currently based in Montreal, I’ve asked her to share her story with me, enjoy.

byjayr - Walk me through your story, and can you recount any specific pivotal moments (as much description as you can remember on where you were and how you were feeling)?

Ella - My story is a long one. I guess it’s not just one story at all, there’s a lot of events and challenges that have led me to where I am today. For this interview I’m going to specifically talk about the part of my story that concerns the journey I’ve been on regarding my physical appearance & health.

I’m not really sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll start at the baseline. I was a happy person. Grew up without financial burdens in a suburban white family. I kept honours in all of my classes at school, loved theatre, had very high muscle strength for my size from ballet & gymnastics, was super fit and healthy, conventionally attractive person. Everything changed in November of 2011 when I had to become a tough bag of knuckle and grit, being flown by air ambulance to Halifax for an extremely rare auto-immune disease (Rapidly Progressive Glomerulonephritis) that had given me stage 5 (end stage) kidney failure. I was a young body filled with dreams but my body disagreed with me. You lose a lot of trust in yourself when your own body turns on you.

For the first three months or so of my sickness I was undergoing chemotherapy as a method of trying to suppress and reboot my immune system in order to get my kidneys to work again. During this time, I had huge diet restrictions (basically all I could eat was white bread, gummy bears and water) and became extremely malnourished. On top of that, I was on high dose steroids with horrible side effects, making me extremely weak. All I know is that I spent the last hours of 2011 sitting on the floor, staring at my legs, being astonished by skinny they were. I was strangely proud of how undernourished and skeletal they were, I had always wished I had the will power to intentionally be that skinny- but that’s another story. Both physically and mentally my functions were imbecilic. That night I blacked out and received the a blood transfusion that saved my life, but gave me a rash from hell. Physically, you honestly couldn’t recognize me.

The transfusion helped me in gaining my strength back from the months of crawling on the ground like a helpless baby. Despite my new found dividend of health, everything I was going through at this point made me ugly. Chemotherapy had taken away my thick, luscious locks of strawberry blonde, it took away all of my fingernails and toenails. The rash that covered me head to toe was gruesome. My entire body kept shedding it’s skin like a snake, leaving behind fragile pink tender skin that wasn’t even ready to be exposed to air. I felt like an unflattering cardboard cutout of an ugly caricature of myself.

I stopped leaving the house for a solid chunk of my precious time.  Alone and sad, waiting for the day I could finally close my eyes for the last time. I don’t think I saw anyone but my family and my friend Mia for at least three months. No photos exist of this time. Evidently this made it hard for me to keep up with my then “boyfriend”. In fact, I remember him asking if I’d take him back when I recovered, but all I said was “I’m not getting better”, and proceeded to ignore him. I couldn’t accept that he had the nerve to still adore me, I was so painstakingly un-sexual. How dare he want to kiss me. I knew I was no longer the girl who was all the perfect fashion, and eventually I really started to mourn for myself. I would never be glamorous, I thought, but at this point I desperately sought being able to be something completely ordinary and unremarkable. Staring at my familiar, tragic limbs- I believed my cold pink hands would never again feel pretty.

One very vivid memory I always think about is when I left to go to the mall for the first time since being sick. I slathered on a coat of the makeup watching actual centimetre parcels of skin peel like a million meaty sunburns that oozed out makeup. I started peeling and picking off the scabs but the more I peeled the more I bled. I came to the conclusion that I would have to peel off my entire face if I wanted to even out the texture of it, so I gave up. I slathered it in vaseline to glue the drooping flakes back onto my face in attempts to mimmic a smoothness and then used half the bottle of foundation to even out the colour. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like hours. My face was the texture of a golfball; but more uneven and porous. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even close to me. Even my eyes had grown so passive, my lids that were once a flirting device batted still- but with their sparsely fallen out lashes they were so dim, so dead.

By late February of 2012, they realized my kidneys just weren’t going to start working from the chemotherapy. They stopped the chemo and I was put on peritoneal dialysis. In a nut shell, that means they put a tube in my belly, the tube connected to a machine every night at home and ran for 8-12 hours, depending on what the circumstances were. Essentially, dialysis does the work for your kidneys, but its more of a temporary thing, and as I found out the hard way, it has lots of complications. Years went by and I had plenty of brushes with death. Plenty more stories to be told about that. But this story is about the growing pains of my confidence & beauty, not my psychical pain.

It’s 2019 and it’s been five and a half years since I received my life saving kidney transplant. My mind has a weird complex built up around how I see myself in the mirror. I often find myself comparing myself to who I was before I ever got sick. I have this way of idealizing who I was before the sickness came, and I’m always seeing the world through rose coloured lenses when I think about my childhood. Sometimes I take a look at myself in the mirror and it’s really hard. I’m so quick to notice how frayed I am at the edges like I’m some kind of hand-me-down lace. Sometimes I just feel like all of my bones are too old for me, that they creak like a dusty house full of empty photo albums because I lost so much opportunity to fill them up with all the teenage  memories I had to miss out on. People tell my all of these experiences make me strong but for the most part I just find myself thinking they make me heavy. I had to grow up too fast and it hurts. It hurts but it’s going to be okay. The ocean is fucking heavy, mountains are fucking heavy, but they’re so perfect and beautiful and that’s all I should be seeing about myself too.

Today I feel secure, complex, and empowered. Maybe I won’t tomorrow, but taking things day by day is the best way I’ve learned to navigate through this world. There will always be people who take me for face value & my looks alone. It takes serious courage to love yourself in a world, in an infrastructure strategically set up to make people who have suffered trauma feel isolated, unworthy, and heavy. The caliber of experience I have endured has done nothing but expand my emotional intelligence, even if it isolates me. Our dominant culture is filled with violent myths. Break them.

J - What inspired you to do what you love?

E - The internet, contemporary situations, and people I surround myself with can be a source of inspiration/influence, but they can also be a huge form of intimidation/comparison. I used to try so hard to impress people but ultimately it just created huge insecurity blocks. Seeing other people competing for acceptance is toxic. I think it’s important to keep some things to yourself. Deconstruct the social construct of what “talent” is. You don’t have to cater to other people. The world doesn’t have to be this finite, limited space you think it is. Don’t let people devalue your creative ability and worth just because they don’t understand it. It’s their loss. My mom is the biggest loner I know and she inspires me every day. I think I work best alone and I get that from her. Maybe this sounds selfish to you but I think that more than anything, I inspire myself. My life has been one dark struggle after another and somehow I crawl my way out of it every time. I’m strong enough now to realize that being alone isn’t a bad thing at all. Isolation breeds individuality. Once I realized that, the world became a safer place for me.

J - What do you find yourself daydreaming about, and can you recount a specific daydream you’ve been having lately?

E - I want to be somewhere new. I’m so tired of Montreal. I dream of being somewhere  where absolutely nobody knows my name or where I’m from or how I got there. I don’t want to talk about myself. I want to learn about other people. To get inspired by them. Lately I’ve been working on music lots. It’s something I’m really passionate about and I can’t wait to share it with people who are open to listening. All I daydream about is being somewhere warm and somewhere exciting. The last few years have been really hard on me. I struggle with a lot of issues that I’m not going to delve into right now, but my biggest dream is just to be happy. To be able to look at myself and be proud, and to make my friends & family proud too. Life moves really fast and I’m making lots of changes. Things are changing for the better, I have to believe they will. <3

Thank you Ella for sharing your inspirational and moving story! <3

Come back next month to see August’s Divine Femininity. :) 

[kookiesspacebuns]

Suite 114 | Pt. 1 | ((ON HOLD))

■ pairing: Jimin x Female OC

■ genre/warnings: fluff, angst, eventual smut

■ words: 6k

■ summary: An innocent staring contest leads to a not so innocent relationship.

As soon as the clock ticks 7pm, I throw the last batch of cupcakes I was frosting into the large, industrial-sized refrigerator and let the door slam shut. The loud noise makes me cringe.

I hope my manager didn’t hear that.

Yanking off my apron, I walk to the lunch room and hang it with the others on the wall. My boss, Isa, already knew I was leaving 2 hrs early today but I still poked my head into her office to let her know I was leaving. She responded with a soft smile and ‘Have fun!’ before returning to her paperwork. I was beyond lucky to find such a nice job AND the sweetest boss in the world. Most head bakers in the city were rude, with no care for any of their employees’ feelings. Especially to people like me, who had zero experience.

After 4 years in college for culinary arts, I thought finding work would be easy, but I was wrong. 21 years old and jobless made it difficult to live in the city, but thankfully this job was practically thrown into my lap 3 months ago. How many people can say they were hired through Instagram? I guess all of those perfectly staged photos of desserts I’d upload weren’t a waste of time like everyone used to tell me they were.

A loud honk let’s me know that my ride is here. I look out the front window of the bakery and see my friend, Mina, bouncing in anticipation in the driver’s seat of her car. She’s waving at me to come out with a hurried expression on her face. I quickly turn the shop’s ‘OPEN’ sign on the front door to ‘CLOSED’ and walk out, locking the door behind me. The instant the door latches closed, my heart begins pumping wildly. Adrenaline rushes throughout my body as I run to the passenger side of the car, smiling like a little girl. I practically fall into the seat before shutting the door and buckling myself in.

Mina looks at me as if in shock, “We’re going to meet the most handsome men in the world and you’re wearing….that.” She glares at my shirt.

My eyes follow hers to my soft pink colored blouse with a white peter pan collar. “I forgot to bring a change of clothes this morning. We don’t have time to stop by my place for me to change. So this is what I have to deal with.” I frown.

“Oh no. You are not going to approach your future husband looking like a maid.” She says, almost sarcastically.

My hand goes to cover my heart, pretending I’m hurt by her words. “What if Park Jimin has a maid fetish? You never know.” I purse my lips and try not to laugh, secretly hoping he does have that fetish.

She bursts out laughing and puts the car into gear before taking off. “Well, at least you don’t have to wear those ugly leather shoes you have on.” I glance down at my work shoes. “Because I love you, I brought the converse you left at my house last week. They’re in the back.” She points a finger over her right shoulder towards the back seat.

“Oh my God Mina. You’re the best! I totally forgot I had left those at your house.” I turn in my seat to look for my shoes in the back. They weren’t that easy to find, buried underneath 3 different sweaters and tons of books. I grab them and start to turn around when I spot a black sweater folded neatly on the seat.

“What’s this black sweater for?” I ask.

“Oh, I ordered it online but its it’s a little too big for me. It’s supposed to be oversized, but it’s way too oversized.” She shrugs. I raise one eyebrow and look at her small frame in the seat. She always wears super fitted clothing so the sweater probably isn’t as big as she’s making it out to be. “I have to return it when I get a chance.”

My mind won’t let me get rid of the curiosity about the sweater, so I grab it and open it up in front of me. It feels extremely soft in my hands and the knitted fabric gives easily. Almost all of it is black except for two thick white stripes going across the arms and chest. I instantly fall in love with it.

“I love it, Mina.” I hug it to my chest to show her how much I love it. She shakes her head and laughs at me. “Pleeeeeeeeease let me wear it tonight. Please.” I flash her my best puppy dog eyes.

“Really Anna? You know that doesnt work on me,” my facial expression falls back into place. “You can have it if you like it that much. It can be a super early birthday gift.”

“Awe! Thank you Mina!” My arms awkwardly wrap halfway around her torso in a makeshift hug. She playfully pushes me off of her.

“No problem, girly.”

I slip my arms into the sweater and over my head, pulling it down into place. It fits as perfectly as an oversized sweater can fit, hanging loosely on my sides and reaching almost past my bottom. Sighing contentedly, I reach down to change out of my ugly work shoes and into my black high tops. My feet slipping into my favorite shoes comfortably.

My pink socks, the only item I love from my work uniform, stop right below my knees. The grey pleated skirt touching halfway down my thighs, showing just the right amount of skin.

‘I must look like a school slacker in this outfit.’ I think to myself as I release my hair from its constricting bun and let my long chestnut curls fall down my back.

Mina breaks the short silence with a high pitched squeal. “I can’t believe we’re about to touch BTS. Anna! Are you wrapping your head around this!?” She voices loudly.

My eyes widen out of excitement. “No, I’m not wrapping my head around it fully. It probably won’t even hit me until after we’ve shaken their hands.” We both whine in unison. “I can’t believe that we spent 200 dollars just to touch them. What were we thinking?!”

“I think we were letting our hormones guide us. I just…can’t give up the chance to touch Namjoon’s hand. Anna! Oh my gosh!!!! We’re almost there.” She starts shaking in her seat and fanning her face with one hand. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

I raise one eyebrow in her direction. Calm down Mina. It’s just a hand.

A really beautiful hand…

Oh my…I’m about to touch Jimin’s hands.

His delicate fingers are going to wrap around mine……I bet they are so smooth.

I bet his lips are smooth too….

I clench my eyes shut and cover my face with both of my hands, trying to clear my mind and keep myself from freaking out like my current chauffeur is doing. Mina is practically hyperventilating in my ear, making it hard for me to calm down.

“Mina! Pay attention to the road! We have to make it there without crashing before we can touch them. Okay?!” I say as calm as I can, even though my insides are as worked up as Mina’s.

It would be a horrible death, crashing on the way to a BTS fan meet. Leaving this world before meeting the man that fuels my, mostly naughty, dreams at night. He would see the news of our car crash not even knowing how much he drove my insides crazy. Tragic. Imagining how soft his hands feel is enough to satisfy me for the rest of my life….and enough to have me squeezing my thighs together right now.

You are in so deep, Anna.

Arriving at the convention center, I immediately regret not just taking the day off. The line to get in is beyond ridiculous. At least 200 fans are waiting, in a barely-moving line, trailing all the way down the street. Thankfully as we pass by the front entrance, we notice a separate line with a sign that says ‘VIP Ticket Holders’, which is what we spent a fortune on wondering if it would be worth it or not.

Mina and I speak in unison, “Definitely worth it.” We look at each other and screech.

We park and practically run to the VIP line. Only six other people are in front of us and our line is moving rather fast. I look to my side at Mina who is fixing her makeup in a little pocket mirror, then glance around to see that almost every other girl is doing the same. I grab my lip moisturizer from my little black backpack and apply it slowly while still observing everyone else. Should I have worn makeup? I could count on both hands how many times I’ve worn makeup in my life. I think its it’s mostly laziness that keeps me from even giving it a chance. I still keep a little bag of essentials at home, in case I have to go somewhere formal.

It starts to sprinkle, which makes the ticket holders work a little faster. We enter the building and rush over to the table where they keep all of the extra goodies that are included in our VIP package. One of the ladies hands me a paper-sized photo for the autographs, an army bomb keychain, a pack of 3D stickers, and of course, my VIP lanyard. The main reason we paid for VIP tickets was to participate in the new activity they introduced for this meet. Apparently, we’ll get a random surprise action we get to do with one BTS member. I’ve heard rumors of selfies and serenades, but serenades seem too good to be true. I hope it is true though. I put the lanyard around my neck and follow Mina into the main room filled with seats.

Taking up most of the room are hundreds of folding chairs arranged so that there’s one big aisle down the middle leading to the stage. On the stage is a long table covered in a black tablecloth. Seven glass bowls filled with what looks like folded pieces of paper are evenly spread along the table top. Behind the table is a big screen covering most of the wall, the rest concealed by long, red velvet curtains.

Mina grabs my hand and drags me to the closest seats we can find, which is in the 3rd row on the left side. We maneuver past other fans already sitting down to two empty seats in the middle of the row. Once seated, we take out all of our new goodies and fangirl over them like everyone around us is doing too. I keep staring at Jimin’s beautiful face in the photo we were given. Mina, doesn’t stop talking about how sexy Namjoon is in his black choker necklace he’s wearing in the photo.

After about half an hour the room is completely full and buzzing with the voices of fangirls and fanboys. I’m almost to the point of putting earphones in to block out all of the noise when the lights dim and someone approaches the microphone on the corner of the stage. As the man speaks, he welcomes us to the fan meet and lists the rules we must follow. No unsolicited touching. No screaming in their faces. No kissing. No gifts. No sharing of personal information. And no pushing.

Some in the crowd groan as he finishes saying the rules. When he speaks again, everyone quiets down. “Today we are testing a new activity that’s never been done before. On the table there are 7 bowls filled with slips of paper. Inside each piece of paper there is a random activity that can be done with that corresponding member. This activity is only available to the VIP ticket holders and can only be done for one member, so choose wisely!”

With that, the noise in the room reaches the loudest it’s been so far. Everyone around us loudly discusses what they think the activities are, ignoring the speaker who is trying to recapture the crowd’s attention.

He finally finishes talking and introduces BTS, causing what feels like the whole building to shake as everyone stands up and screams. Namjoon comes out first in the line and Mina grips my arm as she jumps up and down, screaming beside me. The rest of the members file out after him and stand at the front of the stage to introduce themselves one by one, finishing with a bow.

My heart skips a few beats at the sight of Jimin. A smile is plastered to his handsome face and his dark hair is parted to the side, showing just enough of his forehead. Even the way the way he bows makes me scream internally.

They take their seats behind the table and smile at the crowd while giving finger hearts and arm hearts. Jimin does a big heart with his arms and screams, “I love you AMI!”. My heart explodes in my chest at his absolute cuteness.

Now I’m the one acting crazy.

My cheeks flush red and I jump up on my tippy toes to get a better look at him.

Why am I so short?

I can’t control the pout on my face when I fail at getting a better view. The thought of standing on my chair crosses my mind many times throughout the meet. There were several times when the crowd would go wild and I couldn’t even see what happened. Mina is no help either beside me screaming her head off. Thankfully the girls in front of me sit down halfway through, allowing me to finally enjoy myself.

When the time comes to start forming the line to go onto the stage, my nerves are through the roof. Fans are pushing each other and cutting in line, despite being told to line up in the order we were seated. We wait in line, chatting nervously while watching the members sign things and shake hands with other fans. One girl selects a piece of paper from the bowl in front of Jungkook and immediately screams. When she shows Jungkook the paper, he smiles and gets up to lean over the table. The girl takes out her phone and snaps a selfie with Jungkook as he rests his head on her shoulder and holds up a peace sign. My insides do somersaults just imagining taking a picture like that with Jimin.

Many others in front of us pick out slips from the bowls of whichever member they want, each time squealing and screaming as they read the paper; their screams making my nerves worse each time. So far I’ve only seen people receive selfies and kisses on the hand.

There’s got to be more than those two right?

Once we’re up on the stage, I tell Mina to go before me. She obliges and giddily moves in front of me. I watch her with a racing heart shake J-hope’s hand and tell him how much she loves him. He responds with ‘I love you too’ and flashes her a huge grin before holding his arms out towards her. They hug as I stare at them open-mouthed.

This lucky bitch.

He signs her photo and moves on, giving space for me to approach. He laughs at the incredulous look on my face and reaches his hand out the shake mine.

Oh my gosh, I’m touching Hobi.

His hands are rough….

But also so warm.

I blurt out, “You have a beautiful personality.” He blushes slightly.

“Thank you.” he says.

I hand him my picture to sign. “No, thank you!”

I scrunch my face, cringing at my awkwardness.

Well, it wasn’t a lie…

I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird.

I take my picture and move on to the next few members, trying not to talk too much and embarrass myself. First Tae, then onto Jungkook sitting right next to him. He has his arm around Tae’s shoulder.

Taekook confirmed?

Next is Yoongi who is as chill as ever, leaning back in his chair smiling as I approach him. I slide him the picture and say, “Your lyrics have helped me through so many hard times in my life.”

He sits up and smiles brightly at me. “Thank you so much.” he responds.

I know Namjoon is next just by the high pitched squeal coming from Mina’s direction. I look over at her as Yoongi signs my picture. Namjoon is laughing hard at her reaction and points to the bowl of papers in front of him. Her eyes go wide and she hurriedly reaches in to grab one, then lifts it to read.

“Selca!!!!” she says a little louder than necessary. Namjoon mouths ‘Ahh’ and leans over the table to take a selfie with her. He holds fingers up behind her head, making her face turn beet red. I hear the shutter noise at least 5 times before he sits back down.

Yoongi is still holding the photo and enjoying the show next to us. I reach for it and say, “Thank you.” He smiles and waves.

I barely even register Namjoon speaking to me because of the fact that Jimin is sitting right next to him, and Mina is handing him her picture.

Holy shit.

Namjoon waves his hands widely in front of my face, causing Jimin to notice and look over at me. Our eyes meet and my heart stops beating. He smiles at me.

Holy crap. Calm down heart.

I turn my head to look at Namjoon quickly. He’s shaking his head and grinning with one side of his mouth.

Fuck, I hope I didn’t offend him.

“I’m so sorry.” I apologize quickly and hand him my photo. He takes it and starts autographing it.

“No worries.” he says before handing it back. I grab it and practically bend it with how tense my fingers are, trying to suppress my growing nervousness.

Mina grabs my hand, pulling me out of my trance, and practically yanks me to stand in front of Jimin. She must know how jumbled up my insides are.

Jimin is gazing at me with raised eyebrows when I finally look up at him. His plump lips pursed together as if he’s trying not to smile. I stare at them for a whole second too long and lay my photo on the table in front of me.

My mind goes completely blank, “Ahhh……”

“I love your bracelet.” he says.

What?

Out of instinct I grab my right wrist with my other hand and look down at it. My silver chain bracelet with a single chimmy charm hangs loosely around my wrist.

Duh….how could I forget?

“Uhh…..thank you!” I spit out awkwardly.

Shit. He has to know now that he’s my bias…

I make eye contact with him a few times before I remember the bowl in front of him. He sees me glance at it and pushes it towards me on the table.

Smiling, I reach in and grab a piece of paper hoping it will be something that will help break me out of this awkward situation I am in with Jimin. Park. Jimin. I mentally cross my fingers and open the slip.

I furrow my eyebrows at what it says and hesitantly look at Jimin’s eyes watching me intently. My mouth opens slightly.

“Staring contest?” I say questioningly.

His face immediately lights up and a blinding smile spreads across it. “I wasn’t expecting that!” he exclaims.

A quiet giggle escapes my lips, “Me either..”

Jimin laughs at my confused face and reaches out to grab both of my hands. My heart flutters wildly in my chest at the sensation of his skin grazing mine.

Ahhhhh.

He’s….touching me.

I hold my breath and try to savor the feeling of his soft hands on mine, locking it in my memories for later reference.

“Are you ready?” he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to respond.

I’ll never be ready…

“Yes.” I respond, barely above a whisper.

He grabs both of my hands tighter and runs his thumb on the back my left hand. My soul leaves my body as he bites one side of his bottom lip.

I’m not gonna survive this at all.

He licks his lips, “Okay…..Go!”

Our staring contest comenses.

I try not to think about how dumb my face looks right now, my eyes wide open trying not to blink and my mouth open as well, concentrating as hard as I can. Those deep brown eyes staring back at me widen and come closer.

He wiggles his eyebrows trying to get me to break, but I hold steady and bite my lip hard to withhold from breaking eye contact.

When he lowers his head slightly so that he’s gazing up at me under low lids I feel heat surge to my cheeks and unwillingly to my core.

Oh my God. This is actually turning me on.

My cheeks grow even more red with the thought of being turned on by Jimin…..right in front of him as he watches me.

I notice him moving slightly in his seat before he let’s go of one of my hands and puts it under the table, out of view. My heart drops at the loss of his warm hand but he repays me with a quick slip of his tongue over his lips, then pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it lightly.

I accidently let out a barely audible groan, but it must have been loud enough for him to hear because his eyes immediately go wide and he lets loose of the tight hold he has on his lip. A slow smile creeps across his face. It’s as if he knows how he’s affecting me with those eyes and mouth of his. If only he knew how much they did affect me most nights….

I feel my hand being turned so that my palm is facing up, then his finger sliding from my wrist all the way to the tip of my middle finger, sending little shocks up my arm and through my body. I almost look down at what he’s doing, but I mentally catch myself. I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can handle.

My lower abdomen is tight and tingling when he separates his lush lips and runs his tongue over them slowly and sensually. I blink rapidly and inhale a harsh breath before covering my face with both of my hands and whining into them.

Fuck. I lost.

It was well worth it though.

A beautiful and heartwarming laugh makes me uncover my face and look my victor in the eyes. I pout my lips, pretending I’m upset. Which is honestly far from the truth. I’d gladly lose 100 times over just to see him lick his lips like that again, despite the embarrassment on my side.

He has a cocky grin on his face when he says, “I won.”

So much blood rushes to my face that I feel faint for a moment. I’ve never been attracted to cockiness up until this point.

“Yeah…that wasn’t fair at all to me though!” I respond.

“Why?” he asks with a quizzical look.

Really?

“You can’t expect me to not crack when you’re making those types of faces at me.” I cringe inwardly realizing that I basically just confessed how much his actions really affected me.

He smirks again, “What types of faces?”

My eyes go big.

Wow.

“You….uhh.” I look away for a split second then turn back shaking my head. “Nevermind.”

“Come on,” he laughs.

I start to reply but stop when I see Namjoon nudging Jimin in his side to get his attention.

“You’re holding up the line.” he tells him.

I glance to my left to see that everyone in front of me has already gotten off stage and gone back to their seats. Jin is sitting to the left of Jimin, staring open-mouthed at me.

Holy crap.

He must’ve been watching everything transpiring between Jimin and I. I now have a permanent blush on my cheeks. I smile softly at him and turn back to face Jimin when I hear him speak.

“What’s your name?” he holds out his hand in front of me.

Does he want to hold my hand again?

“Don’t you have a picture for me to sign?” he says in his soft voice.

“Oh! Yeah!” I hand him the photo to sign.

“So, what’s your name?” he smiles.

“Uh. ah…..Anna.”

“Anna..” he repeats it back to me softly. My name falling off his lips like a treasured word, making my heart squeeze. His hand moves across the picture gracefully as he signs it.

The noise of the rest of the room starts getting loud again. I look to my right to see the next two girls behind me glaring daggers my way.

Geez…

Jimin is still writing as I look away from the girls’ harsh stares. How extravagant must his signature be if he’s taking this long? Maybe he’s writing a cute message for me too?

Just as I start to really question how much longer he’s going to take, he finishes and swiftly hands me the photo.

“Bye.” he says grinning.

This boy and his smiling.

I smile back and wave goodbye before moving on to Jin. He says hi and takes the picture from my hands, giving me the final signature I need. I watch him look for an empty space to sign, his eyes searching the photo before widening and looking up at me fast.

What?

I raise one eyebrow out of habit.

What’s wrong with him?

He looks back down and quickly signs his name before handing it back to me. I grab it slowly and pull it to my chest, wondering why he’s acting so strange.

“Thank you.” I say and head back to my seat.

When I reach my seat, Mina is staring at me as if she were looking at a ghost.

“What!?….What is it?” I ask, thinking there must be something wrong with my hair or maybe something stuck in my teeth. Panic seizes my chest as I think of how that could be why Jin was staring at me so surprised.

I sit down in my seat and continue watching her, waiting for her to answer me. “Mina, what?” She looks around us, causing me to follow suit. Everyone close to us is either openly glaring or trying to act like they aren’t.

“People keep talking about ‘the girl holding up the line’"

I look back up on stage to see who shes talking about when it registers that it was me. I AM the girls who was holding up the line.

Oh God.

“Umm….how long was I up there?” I ask.

“Well, I’ve been back in my seat for almost five minutes now.”

“Five minutes!?”

She nods her head. Everyone must be mad that I was at the table longer…..Oh well. I shake my head and sit back. I try to enjoy the rest of the event and pretend I don’t feel everyone staring at me.

Watching the rest of the fans finish up on stage, I can’t help but glance at Jimin every once in a while. Unexpectedly he’s looking right at me when I look over at him around the fifth time. I freeze, not being able to break eye contact with him. Soon another fan goes up to him and he looks away.

It’s not that I don’t want him to look at me, it’s just that it feels like I can’t breathe every time he does.

We make eye contact a few more times before I decide to stop looking his way.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hey, I have to go to the bathroom….I’ll be right back.” Mina whispers.

“Okay.”

The crowd starts screaming and some stand up as soon as Mina leaves the row. I look over in the direction where everyones looking to see two girls taking pictures with Jungkook and Tae.

I wish I could’ve gotten a picture with Jimin.

Subconsciously, my eyes look over at Jimin. He’s relaxed, leaning back in his chair and staring right at me. It’s not a friendly stare, more like a dark stare. He glances around him then holds a picture up in front if him and points at it.

I furrow my brows and look down at the signed picture in my lap. I totally forgot to look at it after everyone signed it. Lifting it up, I glance over everyones signature until I get to jimins.

But its it’s not just a signature…

He wrote my name with hearts on either side followed by his beautiful signature. Underneath is smaller writing. I bring it closer to make out what it says and my heart drops into my stomach.

There’s a hotel name….and a suite number.

Suite 114.

What?

Suite 114….

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

I know he’s watching me from the tingle I feel on the back of my neck. For sure he’s laughing at my reaction to seeing what he wrote. I’m not even sure if this is real. Is he serious? Is this a joke? Why would Park Jimin want me to know where he is staying?

My stomach heats up just thinking of the things that could happen in that hotel room. Things that I’ve dreamt of many times….

But he might not be thinking that way…..

The tingling feeling is gone so I peek up at him while still keeping my head down. Thankfully he’s signing a photo and not staring me down, making me feel nervous. I can’t take my eyes off of the way his dark hair falls in front of his face. He runs his hand through those black locks and hands the fan her picture, returning his gaze to me once again.

My heart is beating three times faster than it should be as I stare back, not having the mental strength to look away. He flashes me a devilish smile and licks those plump, pink lips once again.

He definitely doesn’t want to just have tea with me in that hotel room…

As hard as it is, I avoid looking towards his end of the table for the rest of the meet. It eventually ends and all of the members of BTS bow and exit the room. The crowd is enormous and it is complete HELL leaving the building, and even worse leaving the parking lot.

We manage to make it back to my apartment around midnight. It should’ve only taken us half an hour to get there, but instead it took two.

On the drive home I told Mina everything that happened between me and Jimin in excruciating detail. She started crying as I described the encounter. To be honest I’m not sure why I’m not crying as well. My ultimate bias wants me to meet him in his hotel room. It’s like I’m living in a fucking fan fiction! Mina didn’t believe it was true until I took out my picture and showed her, which probably wasn’t the best idea seeing as she almost drove off of the road after looking at it.

We walk up the steps to my door and enter my apartment. Well, me and my sister’s apartment. I share one with her for financial reasons. And besides Mina, she’s my best friend.

Mina is grabbing onto my arm as we enter, talking rapidly about whether Jimin could introduce her to Namjoon or not. My sister is sprawled out on the couch half asleep when we walk in and turn the lights on. Mina immediately runs over and throws herself down beside her, grabbing her shoulders. She takes a deep breath before spilling the news.

“Guess who got Jimin’s hotel room number!?” she practically yells in my sisters face.

My sister, Vee, dramatically rubs her eyes and turns to look at me. “NO…You didn’t!” I see her eyes sparkling. I can tell she’s about to freak out like Mina and join in on her bouncing from wall to wall in excitement.

I sigh, “Yeah….” I cover my ears to protect them from the glass-shattering scream my sister releases. She grabs Mina’s hands and they jump around the room like excited children.

Why am I so annoyed by this?

My thoughts are all over the place, my mind almost not even believing I’m awake right now. For some reason, seeing my sister and best friend flipping out makes me want to lock myself in my room. Maybe I just need time to comprehend it all.

I turn, heading in the direction of my room. I make it halfway down the hall before my sister grabs me and pulls me back towards the living room.

“Wait. Why aren’t you freaking out, Anna?” she asks me.

“I don’t know….I am on the inside, trust me! But it’s just so surreal, I feel like its it’s too good to be true.” I’ve never been one to get my hopes up, and this situation was no different.

She holds her hand up to her face and shakes her head. “Well it’s real! Do you even know what this means?!” she smiles hard and waits for me to reply. I just shrug, not having the energy to express everything I’m feeling right now. “Wait….what exactly happened. How did it lead to that?”

As I head to the kitchen to grab something to drink, Mina tells her everything that I described to her on the drive here. I open the fridge and to grab a bottle of water when I see a half empty bottle of moscato in the back. I grab it and pour myself a glass, filling it nearly to the rim. I down half of it, barely even tasting it.

What am I going to do?

Wait. Why am I even questioning this? I can’t deny Park Jimin.

But what if this is all a big joke? What if I show up and him and the rest of BTS laugh at me for having false hope. I don’t think they’d do that…..not those angels…..but it’s all so skeptical.

What if he does this all the time?

Oh my God. What if he just wants a one night stand? I mean…I probably wouldn’t say no but…still it’d be nice knowing what I’m getting myself into before I show up.

Ugh I just don’t know.

My sister’s voice makes me jump, causing some of the wine in my glass to splash onto the floor.

“Well, someone’s clearly stressed.” she giggles and puts her hand on her hip. “Since when do you drink my wine?”

“Since….now.” I tilt the bottom of the glass into air as I gulp down the rest of the wine before placing the empty glass in the sink. I wipe up the little that spilled onto the floor and face my sister.. “Vee, I don’t know what to think right now.”

She and Mina stand side by side, staring at me in disbelief.

“What do you mean you dont know what think?” Mina half yells. “You need to think about what you’re gonna wear when you go to meet Jimin…..easy as that.” my sister nods in agreement.

Groaning, I look at them both. “I don’t know guys, what does he want though?” I say, even though deep down I know full well what he wants. The thought makes my body temperature rise.

“Maybe he wants to get to know you more?” says Vee.

“Or maybe he just wants to fuck.” Mina states matter-of-factly. I groan again and cover my face with my hands.

My sisters voice gets closer, “You’ll never know if you don’t go Sis, and don’t even stand here and tell me that you’d say no to him if that’s what he really wants.”

“I need to go lay down.” I let out a sigh.

Mina gets the hint and pulls me in for a hug, “Okay, just let me know what happens.”

I walk her to the door then head to my room, bypassing my sister as she stands in the middle of the hall.

“I really just need sleep first, Vee.” I say, avoiding eye contact.

My room instantly calms me as I enter. I shut the door and lock it behind me. I find my pajamas and change into them before throwing myself on my bed.

I am so mentally exhausted and confused that I don’t even consider taking a shower. I need to stop thinking and close my eyes. I soon fall asleep and drift into my dreams….

MASTERLIST

[sunyoonandstars]

BTS Scenario 8: You are being harassed by fans and reconsider your relationship || You x Hoseok - Part 1

So, this piece of fiction is based on an anonymous request that, in my opinion, left a lot of room for interpretation and hence artistic freedom, which can be both a blessing and a curse at the same time. So, I took the liberty of coming up with my own angsty scenario and sincerely hope whoever requested this is not disappointed by my approach.

This is the original request:

Since this one, again, turned out a little longer (sorry 🙃) than initially expected, I split it up into two chapters. The second and final part can be found here!

Enjoy! And thank you for reading! 💜 Feel free to leave feedback!

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Scenario You, a foreigner and officially Hoseok’s girlfriend, are continuously being harassed by jealous and obsessive fans, their initially verbal attacks now becoming increasingly stressful and dangerous to you and Hoseok. So you come to doubt your relationship ... 

Pairing You x Hoseok

Key y/n = your name (obviously), y/a = your address, y/c = your country

angst, fluff, hints of smut

Word count 3.329

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Hoseok instantly knows something is wrong when his phone starts incessantly ringing in the middle of the night. „Hyung, make it stop…“, he can hear Jimin grumble in the dark while he is blindly feeling for the vibrating device on his nightstand, eyes closed and still half asleep. „Alright, alright. Go back to sleep, Jimin-ah“, he then whispers in response, already up on his feet and headed for the door. As he closes it behind him, going on to quietly tiptoe along the corridor towards the living room, squinting at the bright display to make out the time and the identity of this pesterer who so audaciously dares to disturb his well-earned night’s rest, Hoseok is ready to break out into a full-blown rant. His heart, however, skips a beat in horror when he sees your name and face flash up on-screen. Immediately wide awake, he takes the call. „Hey, y/n, babe, what is it? It’s half past two in the morning!? Are you ok? Is everything all right?“ „No, nothing is all right!“, he hears you scream at the other end of the phone, your voice shrill, breathy. He knows that sound and it sends an icy shiver down his spine, letting him freeze in place in the middle of the pitch-black living room, cold sweat accumulating on his forehead. „Are you crying, y/n!?“ „Yes, I’m freaking crying, Hoseok!“ „Why? What is it? What happened!?“, he shouts into the receiver, unable to disguise the fear shaking his voice, not caring anymore if he wakes the other members.   „Talk to me, y/n!“, he begs, his dread increasing with any further second he is forced to listen to your muffled sobs, unable to hold you, to protect and comfort you, separated from you by mere dozens of miles that suddenly seem like an insurmountable distance. „Please, y/n! Talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong, babe!“ „Everything is wrong!“ „What is it? Tell me what upset you!“ „A fucking nightmare is what this is, Hobi! I don’t think I can take this any longer. Things are getting crazy …“ Your voice trails off, being drowned out by another heartbreaking sob. „What’s crazy? What are you talking about?“, Hoseok asks, aiming to keep you talking while he’s already by the front door, one-handedly trying to tie his shoes, then quickly slipping on his coat before he heads out into the cold of the night, phone still pressed to his ear, eyes glossy with tears. „This is getting out of hand, Hoseok! Your fans hate me! Like, they seriously hate me!“ „Don’t say that, y/n!“ „They threw a fucking brick at my window! It landed on my bed. Do you hear me? It could have hit me, Hoseok! And there was a lovely note wrapped around it, too, telling me to ‚die or at least crawl back to my own country and leave you the hell alone‘! And I watered it down to a PG-13 friendly version right now. They want me freaking gone, okay!?“ „That’s … horrible! I’m so, so sorry babe!“ Desperately, Hoseok clutches his phone, by now standing at the edge of the main road already, traffic still busy even at this hour. Frantically, he keeps waving in order to hail a taxi, his limbs trembling with shock at your experience and the fear of the repercussions it might entail for the both of you, as a couple. „Don’t turn on the lights, y/n. Stay where you are and don’t move an inch. I’m on my way.“ He hangs up, giving you no chance to object, as he slides into the backseat of a cab barely having come to a stand by the roadside in front of him, his heart pounding. „Please, take me to y/a“, he instructs the cabman. „And drive fast.“

Don’t turn on the lights. Don’t move an inch. Tsk. No way. You’re no coward. These crazy people have nothing on you. You’re not gonna just give them the right to terrorize you, to make you feel unsafe in your own home. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you anxiously pace the hall of your tiny studio apartment, clasping your sweaty hands, relentlessly gnawing at your already sore lip, your heart racing, the aftereffects of the rush of adrenaline that brutally awoke you from your unsuspecting sleep still lingering. A sound by the apartment door gives you a start. Paralyzed by fear, you stop cold in your step when you can now even hear the lock snap open. However, your tension eases with a sigh of relief as soon as you make out Hoseok’s familiar figure in the dimly lit doorframe. „Fuck! You startled me!“ Promptly, he flies to your side, going on to pull you into a boisterous embrace, pressing his body firmly against yours and wrapping his arms around you so tightly you can barely breathe. „Are you all right, y/n? Are you hurt anywhere?“ Previous to his arrival you had been determined to be angry with Hoseok, to even blame him for what’s currently happening to your life, to take the easy way out and finally end things with him for both your sakes. But now that you feel his arms around you,  his heaving chest against yours, his heart pounding in panic, and are encompassed by his unique, all too familiar scent, you are once again reminded of all the reasons why you are still enduring this terror, and Hoseok’s warm embrace lets your resolve melt in thin air. „I think I’m okay“, you whisper into the crook of his neck, pressing your lids shut as the tears of relief start falling, leaving burning hot trails of despair on your cheeks before they finally sink into the soft fabric of Hoseok’s cashmere coat. „Are you sure?“ Tenderly, he strokes your hair, his movements never ceasing even for just one second, while his other arm is still tightly wrapped around your waist. „I was so scared when you called, y/n. You sounded so frightened.“ „I was.“ Now he breaks his embrace, holding you at arm’s length to get a look at your face, locking eyes with you. His are unmistakable puffy and red-rimmed, you can’t help but notice, the sight breaking your heart. Hoseok must’ve cried, too, on his way here. „But you’re feeling better now?“, he inquires, eying you intently. „Yes“, you weakly smile. „I mean, I’m still shaken up. After all, this brick could’ve hit my head or something. I don’t wanna be overly dramatic, but I could have been dead, Hoseok, or at least badly injured.“ „Don’t say such things, y/n!“, he immediately calls out, eyes wide with sheer horror at the mere notion of you getting hurt. „But it’s true, Hoseok. This is getting too dangerous“, you shake your head, gently freeing yourself of his slender hands now resting on your shoulders to turn away, unable to face him when you speak your next words. „I don’t know if I can do this any longer. Us. If it’s really worth the risk to both our safety. Your fans seem to be pretty determined to eliminate me from the equation. They want you all to themselves, perceive me as their enemy and apparently do not hesitate to make that abundantly clear to me.“ „Not all of them are like that!“, he protests, reaching out in an attempt to hold you back by the sleeve of your pajama top as you’re headed for your bedroom, but you simply shake him off without even so much as looking back, even though it takes all your willpower. But you know, this is the right way, the only way, to get your life back and, most  importantly, keep Hoseok safe, because you know very well that he, too, has been receiving innumerable threatening letters ever since your relationship accidentally became public about five months ago. And that it’s only a matter of time until those crazy fanatics turn on him, too, probably soon stepping up their game from mere letters to property damage and possibly even worse. „I know, Hoseok, but that’s not the point“, you state, your voice surprisingly steady, finally turning towards him again now that you’ve regained your composure. „I have nothing again your real fans. It’s those sasaengs that really bother me, and that’s putting it mildly. I mean, they keep insulting me because of my looks and nationality, calling me fat and ugly because I’m a foreigner and don’t fit their twisted beauty standards. Also, they never seem to tire of reminding me of the fact that I’m not worthy of you, that I will never truly understand you or your art because I’m not Korean and too ‚different‘, constantly telling me that I should end my pitiful existence because it’s a blind spot on, I quote, ‚the bright sun that you are‘. What kind of people even say such horrible things to another human?“ You can tell by Hoseok’s expression how deeply those words affect him, that they pain him just as much as they do you. His beautiful, pale features are distorted by pure anguish and helplessness, his posture is frozen, one arm halfway extended in your direction, his longing hand, however, never having reached you, being left to dangle in the air instead, afraid that you’d shy away from its touch. „Y/n, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.“ You avert your gaze, the look in his eyes, glossy with tears, simply too much for you to bear. „Those hateful comments and letters aren’t even the worst part of it, Hoseok. Since those sasaengs got wind of my identity I have gained at least a dozen stalkers. They appear literally everywhere. You might have gotten used to it by now, but I simply can’t live like that. I lost all my friends from university. They’re not too eager to be followed around and photographed, to be shamed on twitter or end up on some hate blog, too, and I honestly can’t blame them. It’s really not the best feeling to know that you’re constantly being watched. And this brick wasn’t the first similar incident, either. I decided to keep the other ones from you because I didn’t want to scare or distract you. But —“ „Why would you do that!?“, he cuts you off mid-sentence. „You can’t keep things like that to yourself, y/n! I’m in this with you! I would’ve helped!“ „How?“, you ask, once again forcing yourself to meet his glance, only to regret it immediately, hating yourself for being the one to drain him of his signature brightness, to crush his delicate heart. „How would you have helped? With your busy schedule, your career on the line and your reputation to consider? How would you have helped me, Hoseok?“ He simply stands there, lower lip trembling, mouth agape in distraught but not one single sound leaving it. „That’s right“, you scoff. „These incidents are just gonna keep on happening and there’s nothing you can do about it. Last week someone broke into my locker on campus and sprayed its entire content with red paint, leaving a note with quite an endearing message, saying I wasn’t good enough for you and should go die before I drag you down with me and ruin your career. Not only was I scared to death for a second there, but in addition to my already high student loans I now have to pay the university for the damage and replace books worth over two hundred fucking dollars. And just three days ago someone left a ticking parcel at my doorstep, addressed to ‘Hoseok’s whore’. Neighbors panicked, thinking it was a bomb. They called the police. The whole building had to be evacuated and was closed off for the entire afternoon, Hoseok. Dozens of people were frightened to death, believing their lives were in danger or they were about to become homeless. And it’s still unclear if I actually have to compensate the authorities for this false alarm, even though I had nothing to do with it. Hoseok, this is seriously getting out of hand. And I want it to end. I can’t live like that. Not even for one more day. So maybe it’s best if we stop seeing each other.“ „For how long?“, he cautiously asks, his voice barely more than a shaky whisper, already knowing all too well what your answer is going to be. „For good, Hoseok. I really don’t see any other way out of this. I already looked into it, I may be able to transfer to a university in my home country before the next semester starts. I’m sorry, Hoseok, but I really have to get out of here. As soon as possible. I feel like I can’t even breathe anymore. When I started seeing you — When I fell in love for you, I didn’t think this far. I didn’t sign up for this. You promised it would be okay, but it’s not. It’s really not okay, Hoseok.“ Your voice cracks, choked by a stifled sob. When Hoseok now reluctantly approaches you, you instinctively take another step back, fully aware of the fact that his mere touch would surely change your heart and mind at once. „No, please — Just leave, okay“, you hardly manage to get the words out,  dropping your gaze to avoid his. „I have to simmer down again and somehow get back to sleep, even though it’s freezing cold in my bedroom now thanks to your lovely fan community. I have an important test tomorrow, so I can’t be tired.“ „I see“, he simply mutters, however, instead of turning to go as expected, proceeding to take yet another step towards you. „But I’m not gonna do that, y/n. I’m not just gonna leave you like this.  What kind of a man do you think I am?“ You swallow hard, receding, your burning eyes still fixed on the floor, until you’re backed up against your bedroom door.  „I’m never gonna leave you. Do you hear me, y/n? I’m not gonna chicken out when the going gets tough. I may not be the most courageous guy there is, and I really wasn’t made for amusement park rides and horror movie nights. But I’m no coward. I’m not just gonna give up on you. Because I love you, y/n. Because I need you. I thought you know that.“ „I — I do, but —“, you stammer, your heart racing and your throat quickly closing up now that he is so close to you, barely inches separating your bodies. „Then don’t you love me anymore, is that it?“, he urgently inquires, inclining his head to be at eye level with you, hence forcing you to meet his intense gaze. In response to your silence he leans in even closer, his weight only supported by his arms, his hands put down to each side of your shoulders, propping against the wooden door to your back. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, still covered in sweat. Hoseok must’ve raced here straight from his bed, wearing only his pajamas underneath the fashionable coat. „Won’t you answer me, y/n?“ You can’t. Being this close to him right now is plainly too much to take for you in your current state. Hoseok’s hot breath brushing past your parted lips, a strand of his hair tickling your temple, and the quickly fading glimmer of hope illuminating his dark brown eyes. That’s all it takes for your knees to turn to water, even after all this time. „Of course, I still love you, stupid“, you breathe against his lips the instant right before your mouths meet in a soft, quickly deepening kiss that leaves you gasping for air. „I could never not love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you so much it freaking hurts, all right?“, you whisper, your forehead resting against his. „But that still doesn’t make this whole mess any less of a burden. And it’s putting a strain on our relationship, too, can’t you see that? I’m afraid only our love isn’t enough for this to work anymore. And I’m afraid for you, for your health and safety. About myself, I don’t care. But the people destroying my property and threatening my life on a daily basis are soon gonna turn on you, too. That’s how their sick minds work. If they can’t have you, nobody should. In their distorted view of life that actually makes sense. And I just can’t go on as if nothing’s wrong knowing that you might be in danger, Hoseok. I’m not willing to put your mental and physical well-being at risk because of my own selfish need to be with you.“ Cupping your face with both his hands, Hoseok pulls away to lock eyes with you again, his expression as serious as you’ve rarely ever seen it. „Y/n, did you not listen to a word I just said?“, he asks in a low, husky voice that sends a shiver down your spine, slowly shaking his head, a weak smile now stretching his softly curved lips and revealing his irresistible dimples. „Didn’t I just tell you that I need you? Just as much as you do me? And I meant it. I’m insanely in love with you and simply cannot and will not imagine my life without you. You’re the most important thing to me, y/n. I never thought I’d say this, but you’ve even exceeded my career in priority, and by far, I may add.“ „Don’t say that Hobi“, you pout. „You know full well I’d never want to get in the way of your music.“ „I never said I’d let you, y/n“, he objects, his grin broadening. „I’m far too mature to let a girl ruin my life.“ „So, I’m just some girl now?“, you raise a brow at him. In response, he gives you a little peck on the lips. „I never said that, either. You know what I mean, though. You’re not just some girl. You’re my woman. You’re my everything. And I just don’t see why it shouldn’t be possible for me to have both, you and my career.“ „But you can’t have everything, Hoseok. That’s a simple truth.“ „I don’t want everything. All I want is you and BTS, my music and to dance. That’s not that much. And I’m sure, sooner or later my fans will come to realize that I deserve to be happy and that the only way I can be happy is to be with you.“ He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s actually as simple as that. But you know it’s not. You know it’s never that simple. And he knows it, too, you can see it in his eyes, even though he’s trying hard to mask his uncertainty. „All right“, you finally sigh in agreement, leaning your head against his strong shoulder. „For now“, you add with particular emphasis. „I can live with that“, he whispers into your hair, going on to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. „Let’s go to bed now, y/n. I’ll stay and warm you, so you’ll get your well-deserved sleep without catching a cold. Or don’t you want me to?“ „As if you didn't know“, you chuckle into his pajama jacket, inhaling the comfortingly familiar odor stuck in its smooth fabric. „I’d love it if you stayed over“, you clarify, looking up at him to find Hoseok’s face gleaming with affection, his eyes shining even brighter than the blinding ceiling lights. „You know what? I have an idea, y/n. We’re leaving for a concert and some promotional events in y/c in a few days. Why don’t you join us to get away from here, take your mind off of things and see your family for a bit? I’ve always wanted to meet your parents. Now could be the chance. Let’s make our relationship even more official to show my fans how serious I truly am about you. What do you think?“

To be continued ...

END OF PART 1                                                                                   PART 2 ⏭

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As always, thank you so much for reading and showing my stories some love! It’s much appreciated! 🙏🏻💜 I hope my realization of this request managed to meet your expectations! 🙃

Take care and have a lovely day! 💜

[sanctferum]

Dangan Ronpa Chapter 4 Free Time part 2, and probably a Deadly Life by the end of this

OK, so last time we decided to spend what’s probably our final Free Time event of chapter 4 with Kaito. Problem is, I can’t find him anywhere. That is…concerning. OK, I’ll hang out with Himiko instead.

A present for Himiko, huh? How about a Firebolt, I mean Flame Thunder, broomstick?

Himiko is too lazy to tell people not to talk to her if she doesn’t want them to. Or, at least she was back in chapter 2 or whatever point in time this Free Time event was written for.

Himiko became a magician, sorry, a mage, because she was good at it. Not following her talent would go against her master’s teachings. Said master is an amazing archmage, who- oh, we called her a magician by mistake, the conversation’s over. RIP Shuichi.

One final free time. Looks like Kaito’s available now. Let’s finish up his free time events.

Kaito seems awfully nervous about something. Let’s calm him down with this weird space thing present.

Kaito’s upset that we’re moping around. Shuichi isn’t sure why Kaito thinks he’s moping. But, in the interest of sharing burdens, Kaito convinces Shuichi to tell him a story that he’s previously only told Kaede. The story of Shuichi’s first case, the one that went horribly right. Shuichi insists that him solving the case was a complete accident, and that he foiled the culprit’s revenge, despite it turning out that the culprit was justified in seeking that revenge. Kaito thinks that the culprit, had he gotten away, would have been crushed under the weight of his own guilt. In that sense, he should almost be thankful that Shuichi caught him.

Kaito’s an idiot, but…he supports Shuichi and expects nothing in return. He is a true friend.

We get the Spacewalk skill and Kaito’s underpants. Spacewalk looks like it will be useful for psyche taxi.

As night-time approaches, the doorbell to Shuichi’s dorm room rings. Kaito? Maki? Nope, it’s Miu.

Shuichi has no patience for Miu’s perverted remarks, but Miu does say one interesting thing. If Shuichi meets Miu on the fourth floor computer lab, the two of them, and I presume everyone else as well, will be able to escape. Shuichi decides it’s worth going there. Probably.

On the fourth floor, Himiko is outside the computer room. Everyone got the same basic message from Miu, but Himiko says it smells fishy. Well, Miu would know about that. …She’s starting to rub one off on me. Rub off on me. Fuck.

Himiko is hesitant, and then she remembers all the times she didn’t want to do stuff, but Tenko grabbed her and dragged her all over the place. In Tenko’s memory, Himiko won’t hesitate any more.

The green circle in the center of the computer is red now. Everyone is already gathered inside. Including Kokichi. I’m nervous. Really nervous.

Sure enough, Miu plans to get us out of here via bringing us to another world.

Miu will tell us how it works…if we bow down to her like dogs. Kokichi suggests that if Miu wants to be heard, SHE bow down to US. Miu gets desperate and then suddenly the art style shifts to manga style as Miu bows down to us.

There’s a device connected to the computer that can upload your consciousness to it. Which means the way to escape is to abandon our physical bodies and run to a virtual world. My theory as to what’s happening here inches ever closer to being the truth…

The computer doesn’t have “virtual reality” in the sense that we know of it as. It’s really…a Virtual World. One step further than the Neo World Program from Dangan Ronpa 2, sounds like. As Tsumugi puts it, it’s basically the Matrix.

The consciousness is put into an avatar, just like with the Neo World Program. Naturally, we’re all pretty hesitant.

Kokichi found out what Miu was up to. He agreed to bring chairs here for our bodies to be left behind in, in exchange for learning what Miu was planning.

A world without murder and Monokuma, huh? I don’t think we’ll be in a hurry to leave behind the world with our friends and families in it, but I also suspect that said world no longer exists, and that the world we’re in now – possibly even the world we all came from – originates within this same computer.

Himiko is refusing to go. This reeks of danger. And Miu didn’t even create the Virtual World. Someone else made it. HMMMHMMMMM.

Himiko doesn’t want to separate her body and her soul. Kokichi says Keebo might not have a “consciousness” to be uploaded. But surely being a program in the first place will make this definitely work on him, right?

Shuichi is nervous about who could have created the Virtual World. He’s right to be, because as it turns out, it was Monokuma. Just as I thought…

Following on Monokuma’s footsteps are Monophanie and Monotaro. Monotaro is still confused after being hit so many times, and decides that the robot is his father. He picks the wrong robot, though – Keebo, not Monokuma.

Monokuma used a certain program as a template to create the Virtual World. Is that program called the Neo World Program?

The program is called the Killing Game Simulator. I think I must be right about the true nature of this world and everything in it. I’ve got to be.

Miu stayed up all night deleting all dangerous stuff from the Virtual World. Still, even with that, it’s obviously a trap.

Once we go to the Virtual World, we’ll understand how awesome it is. Miu’s speaking like she has already been in and out. Has she?

The Virtual World was originally a killing game simulator? I dunno. Monokuma said he based the Virtual World off of the Killing Game Simulator. It’s therefore more likely that the Simulator is what we’re in now.

Monotaro thinks Miu’s his mommy now. Maybe Miu and Keebo can adopt him.

Kokichi is on Miu’s side when it comes to trying out the Simulator. Very adamantly and suspiciously so. He knows something. Something about what they might find inside the Virtual World. A super crazy secret. Some kind of bait from Monokuma that would be a reason for them to try it out.

Monokuma says it’s…the secret of the outside world. Whoever finds it, will instantly know what’s happening outside the academy.

Kokichi says he didn’t know about this for sure. It was just a hunch. But I think he knew. He used the card key to get into the Monokuma room and found out something…

Kokichi says that the info could be used to end the killing game…Gonta immediately falls for it. Keebo again mentions his “inner voice” and says it’s telling him that this is the right thing to do. Kaito is just plain curious to see what the Virtual World looks like. Maki thinks he’s an idiot, but will go along anyways. It might be dangerous, but everyone’s been in danger for a while by now.

It’s obvious to Shuichi that Kokichi’s planning something. But what?

Two ports on the VR visors…that’s what connects you to the computer. Into the ports go a red cord, for consciousness, and a blue cord, for memory. Red goes in the right port, blue in the left port.

Once the helmets are connected, everyone puts ‘em on. Miu says she tweaked the avatars to look even better than what the rest of em look in real life. Uh-oh…

Himiko, I don’t think Miu was talking about your face.

Despite our reservations, we flip the switch and…are digitized. We black out for a moment.

And in that moment, a message appears. “Welcome to the Neo World Program…”

We’re actually doing this, then? Oh fucking boy. I just hope this doesn’t mean the mastermind is Junko or any incarnation of her. (It’s totally gonna be fucking Junko)

And here we are, and we’re…funko pop chibis. MIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!

Yeah, agreed with Himiko, the graphics could use some improvement.

Keebo was hoping to have a human body. Poor guy.

With this body, Kaito doesn’t have to worry about any of the stuff he’s been worrying about. Shuichi inquires what stuff, but Kaito brushes it off.

Maki appears. Weird, she wasn’t here before? Now that I think about it, Himiko, Tsumugi, Maki, Kaito, Keebo, and Shuichi are here. Where are Gonta, Kokichi, and Miu?

Maki immediately wants to go back to her actual body. Gonta and Kokichi show up, and Kokichi punches Keebo. Keebo is shocked to feel actual pain from having his avatar hit…our senses in the real world are connected to our senses in the Virtual World. Yeah, that’s how the Neo World Program works…

Miu shows up. All of us are here, then.

Oh, when she said we’d look better in the Virtual World, she meant we’re ugly IRL. Thanks.

The thing about the senses being connected is worrying Maki. Miu explains that whenever an avatar receives sensory input, electric signals are sent to the real body’s brain. And the brain interprets those signals as if it actually experienced it.

Miu has a map of the world, but also a warning regarding this world. Objects are unbreakable. Nothing can be broken here. Also, everyone’s avatar has the same physical strength and abilities. Himiko would theoretically be able to overpower Gonta in this world.

How do we log out? Good question. This better not go Sword Art Online on us…

Ah, we log out using the conspicuous telephone on the counter. Pick it up and say your name, and you’ll be out of here in a flash. The phone can’t be moved from the room we’re in, making this room the only place we can log out from. And whenever we log in, we’ll be transported to this room…

The map is posted on the wall outside the room. Also, the back of Tsumugi’s neck is sensitive. Not sure if that’ll ever be of any importance.

Two maps…the smaller one is of the building we’re in, the mansion. There’s a dining hall, kitchen, salon, bathroom, stairs to the roof, and a main hall, and also a salon, which is the room with the phone. The bigger map is of the Virtual World as a whole. Besides the mansion, there’s a run-down chapel. And the black borders of the map represent a wall. A wall that surrounds the entire Virtual World. SOUNDS FAMILIAR, HUH.

“Beyond that wall is the end of the world. Literally.” Just as I suspected, then.

Past the wall, there isn’t anything.

Miu says she prepared the maps herself. Not Monokuma, then. But the way she says that sounds odd…I think she’s lying.

Kokichi plans to go investigate by himself, much to everyone’s worry. Gonta says he’ll keep watch over Kokichi, but I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. Kokichi obviously planned on Gonta volunteering, so…

There’s a weird clock in the hall. Maybe that’ll be important?

We need to go to the roof to see the view. Up a few stairwells is the roof. It’s snowing outside…

Our avatars can feel heat and cold. Also pain, as demonstrated by Keebo, and…pleasure. And since this is a virtual world, birth control isn’t necessary. So that’s what Miu meant about us never needing a rubber again.

Tsumugi and Shuichi discuss whether an avatar can get sick. According to a study Shuichi read, if the mind is utterly convinced that a bucket of hot water is being dumped on the body, the skin will burn even if the water is cold. I think I have an idea of where this is going, and it’s nowhere good.

There’s a storage shed on the roof. Nothing dangerous that can be used as a weapon inside. Just rolled up carpet.

There’s mounted binoculars on the roof. At the point where the black border is on the map, there’s simply nothing…Miu invites us to go over ourselves and see what it means.

Keebo has started to think about things. Nothing is beyond the wall in this World…and the Academy also has a giant wall. No, never mind, it’s probably nothing. Except I think it’s very obviously something, Keebo.

Before we follow Miu to the river, let’s check out the other rooms. The bathroom is odd, since we don’t know if avatars even need to go to the bathroom. Also, if nothing breaks, toilet paper won’t tear, so that could become a pressing issue. We can’t check the dining hall for now, so…outside we go.

There’s a sign near a fork in the river that says “Mirai Hills”. Mirai is of course the Japanese word for future. The plot thickens.

There’s no bridge over the river, but we can use the Mirai Hills signboard as a makeshift bridge. Also everyone thinks we enjoy being bossed around…Shuichi is kinda a submissive guy, but he’s no masochist.

The signboard can’t support our weight, but it doesn’t have to. Nothing breaks in this world. Still, if the signboard gets washed away, we won’t be able to cross back. Which means we’ll be unable to reach the mansion and log out…

We cross over to another screen, but during the second it takes for it to load, we experience the loading screen instead of the Virtual World. So the squiggly line Miu drew on the map is where the second map loads when you cross over. The reason the binoculars couldn’t see past the loading point was because of this. And while loading, there’s no sight or sound. Nor can you see or hear someone on the other side.

The chapel is indeed a mess. Now to split up and look for clues about the outside world.

Kokichi has something he wants to ask Miu, and he then tells it to Gonta, but since they’re whispering, we don’t know what it is.

Kaito will check the roof, and Kokichi will check the salon. Kokichi decides that he’ll search the mansion’s surroundings, since no one else wants to be outside in the snow. He’s going to pair up with Gonta again for that. Tsumugi, upset that Kokichi is clearly using Gonta, volunteers to also search outside, so she can keep an eye on Kokichi. Shuichi’s also on mansion duty. Maki looks like she’s not happy about being left out…well, she’ll join Himiko, Miu, and Keebo in searching the chapel. The chapel has, at a glance…an organ, which Shuichi thinks Kaede could’ve played, books, posters, Christmas decorations…also Miu is mad that we don’t appreciate her beautiful virtual world.

Anyways, on the other side of the loading screen is Kokichi. As we all join him to search the mansion, Miu walks by, and “accidentally” nudges the signboard, which flows down the river. Miu yells at us, then walks off. Everyone in the chapel is now trapped in this world, including Miu herself…nothing we can do now. Gotta go check the mansion.

Tsumugi goes into the dining hall to see what’s inside. The kitchen is our duty. Inside the dining hall are glasses, dishes, etc. Inside the kitchen, we search all over but find nothing important. Tsumugi also finds nothing in her search. But 10 minutes before she comes to find us, she did look through the window in the dining room, and saw Miu. Somehow, Miu was on this side of the river despite having dropped our bridge in the river?

Before we can discuss how strange it is further, there’s a loud bang. We rush out into the hall, but no one’s there. Was it something falling from the roof? But…Kaito was on the roof. It wasn’t him, was it? It was definitely something outside. And also outside, we hear Keebo, who should be in the chapel…how did Miu and Keebo cross the river?

Outside, we meet up with Gonta. If we go to the chapel, we can find out why we heard Keebo’s voice.

Keebo, Himiko, and Maki are on the other side of the river. But we heard Keebo from the other direction.

“We might be able to make it in time”…That doesn’t sounds like good news…

Kokichi runs up to us. So he’s alright…I hope Kaito’s alright. Though if that’s the case, Miu might be dead.

The signboard washed up down the river, against a boulder.

Whatever happened, the Ultimates need to log out right now. But why?

Something happened to Miu. Her avatar stopped moving. Uh-oh.

There’s a roll of toilet paper outside the mansion that wasn’t there before. We can’t examine it now.

Maki says Kaito wasn’t on the roof. He probably just…logged himself out. I dunno, Maki.

Kokichi wants us to log off before him. Weird. You need to say your name in the phone to log out. So, something about his name?

Before we go, Kokichi tells us that we’re really useful. We should stop hanging out with Kaito and become Kokichi’s friend instead. Because…Kokichi can save everyone. Or so he says.

Kokichi is sad that Shuichi rejected him and logged the fuck off, but…when Kokichi finds someone he likes, he’ll do anything to get them to notice him. Even strangle them. Hmmm. Whoever’s dead, most likely Miu but I ain’t ruling Kaito out, did they die by being strangled? We fade back into the real world before we hear what name Kokichi says into the phone.

We wake up and take off our helmet, only to find exactly what everyone head feared. Miu. Miu, dead…apparently via strangulation. HOO boy.

Miu is dead, and Kaito is nowhere to be seen. And as the sun rises over the academy, the body discovery announcement chime plays. But since everyone’s in the computer room anyways, instead of the announcement, Monokuma shows up personally.

Now that Miu is dead, Monokuma doesn’t feel any urge to hold back on vulgar comments.

Monotaro’s weeping his eyes out at the sight of Miu’s body. Monophanie takes a moment to realize what happened, and then she vomits.

Everyone is too shocked by Miu’s corpse to even process that a murder has happened…until Kokichi brings up the topic. And also, not everyone is in the computer lab. Kaito’s not here.

The next thing we hear is footsteps running down the hall. Kaito bursts into the room, panicking over having heard the announcement chime, and there’s the body.

Kaito says he was taking a nap. But I don’t think he’s the blackened. The real blackened must have set up things to look like they did, so that Kaito would be super suspicious.

Kaito got logged out involuntarily, without using the phone. Then he went to his dorm room and took a nap, since he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to log back in…

Kokichi says that it’s Shuichi’s time to shine, as a detective! But if the culprit is Kaito, what will Shuichi do?

Before everyone can start arguing, Monokuma distributes the usual Monokuma File.

Kokichi’s excited to find the culprit…I don’t think he’s the blackened either. Kaito and Kokichi…they’re way too obvious suspects to be the blackened. Also, Kokichi points out that everyone standing around being sad is strange, considering he himself is the only one more hated among the people here than Miu.

Keebo’s completely waterproof…I was wondering about that in chapter 2.

Gonta can’t ever, ever forgive the blackened…or himself. Time after time again, Gonta has failed to protect his friends…but, there’s nothing he could have done.

Kaito claims that Shuichi and him will be able to solve the mystery together. But Kokichi won’t let them. He won’t let the detective work with the prime suspect. Kaito believes in us, which means he believes that if he was the blackened, we’d expose him. He believes we wouldn’t turn away from the truth. Kokichi brings up Kaede’s trial, but Kaito tells him to shut up. He believes in us, end of sentence.

Kokichi believes that believing in other people in a killing game is bad tactics.

Shuichi thinks that Kokichi’s manipulating Kaito into not working with Shuichi for this case. But to what end?

Miu died at 6:30 AM. There’s no external wounds on her body. Perhaps the reason she’s clutching her throat isn’t strangulation, but poison? There’s poisons in Shuichi’s lab, after all.

It’s 7 AM now. So we were still in the Virtual World when Miu died.

Kokichi plans to help us with this case, and make sure Kaito doesn’t try and partner up with us despite saying he wouldn’t. Is there something that only the two of us working together can uncover, and if so, what? And is Kokichi hiding whatever it is because he’s the blackened, or to make the game exciting?

There’s a small bottle on one of the chairs. No doubt it’s poison from Shuichi’s lab. But we’ll investigate that and everything else next time.

[seychermanium]

Its 3:49 AM here and I thought: Linden Films obviously commited tons of failures when they had their hands on Arslan Senki, starting with the inconsistent, choppy animation, sometimes ugly color palettes and hideus CGI (and they even made this CGI the style of the videogame... Because it looks like anime). But they also decided to make the anime follow its way, killing what was a adaptation of Arakawa's adaptation of the story. The anime indeed starts quite slowly, even I had problems watching it, but once episode 4 arrived everything became interesting, honestly. Beyond the fact that this one is one of my favorite S1 episodes for obvious reasons, more than 2 Main characters was refreshing, and it felt like the story was actually beginning in that point. We had the prince of the kingdom that fell in the hands of the enemy, the most powerful former-Marzban in Pars, the FE avat—overly intelligent strategyst and his "slave", who is able to defend himself with a bow and a sword. How they tried to spy un Ecbatana was one of the most interesting things of the series, as it shown how far a fanatic-religious cult can destroy someone who doesn't share their religion back then (or sort of). Plus, I admit I want to know how the idea of dressing Elam as a girl came from and where the clothes and wig came from as well... But the second half was obviously taken from the novels, probably to save time or solve the problem with the pacing. But the biggest mistake was to make it a 25-episode long series, when a story like The Heroic Legend of Arslan needs way more time to develop. Indeed, the pacing is slow, but its mostly because the cast is amazingly gigantic and all the information we can have about the most important characters from another kingdoms will connect to either Arslan's past or present, or even future. Or even Pars' past, present and/or future. Each character does have a backstory, something to do in the story, a reason to help Arslan beyond the fact that he's the crown prince, but in 25 episodes we can't explore all of the content that Arslan Senki has to offer. It deserved to be a long-running anime, with stunning animation, amazing merch (most of the merch looks like it was designed by Narsus himself, Holy God its hideus), and more effort. I mean, the first season indeed was ambitious, respected the story as much as they could, openings and endings used still images, yet they looked beautiful; the OST was as epic as it gets and they indeed shared philosophical meaningful quotes and questions for the audience and other characters here and there, mostly through Arslan, Narsus and Gieve. But then season 2 came out and all that effort went to the trashcan. Fuujin Ranbu was horrible. 8 episodes of almost nothing, a bland OST compared to S1's OST, uglier animation and almost none character development. In 8 episodes, you can't do much if the story is as large as Arslan's, so this season was completely useless, as the Main story focused on how a badly-written Narsus fought against a betrayal. Shaghad had an amazing physical design, but he was so dumb it literally hurts. His plan yo kill Narsus was stupid as hell, and I honestly don't know if this is how Shaghad was written in the novels, but God I hated him. The ending of his fight with Narsus was also bad, as Narsus won just because Azrael came. It wasn't a fair win, honestly. And hell... A year of slave isn't enough for someone who wanted to kill one of your Friends. The side-story in Ecbatana was way more interesting than the Main story in Guilan. But I get why people dislike the anime. It doesn't have the best presentation, the first episodes are slow, and the Main character looks too cute to be true. It is also labeled as a shonen anime, which makes people believe its an action show, which its not really the case. Even if the series has amazing fighting scenes, its more focused on Pars' politics, moral themes, religious conflict and how Arslan is reaching matureness, how he wants to rule his kingdom. Also the character designs are a let down for people who doesn't even want to try to watch it. Arslan, Farangies and Narsus (how many problems does Narsus have with Linden Films' adaptation and everyone else!?) are heavily criticized by how they look. And here are my thoughts on that: >I think Arakawa designed Arslan as a fragile boy because of his personality. He's sensitive, fragile, innocent, full of questions and really really kind. He's a character that can be easily damaged, this is why Daryun is so overprotective towards him. But as the story goes on, we can see Arslan develop as a character, and as person. We all know the painter is his main guide with moral issues, such as freeing the slaves and how he should bring peace to Pars in general; the more personal problems are discussed with Daryun, when, for instance, he asked him if he is *SPOILER* the right King for Pars even if he's not the corresponding one *SPOILER*, and we slowly ser him approaching a personal view on things, and basically trying to become an adult and do things right; so, if Arakawa reaches the point where he becomes King, his design may also be more mature and manly. >Not just because Narsus looks like a pretty voy it means that's his whole character; someone would expect him to be the one with the fangirls, but Daryun is the ovary-destroyer in the gang. Not just because he's blonde, has purple-ish eyes, he's pale and has this sassy-ish calm voice (Namikawa Daisuke's work, not Chris Bevins'), it means he's just that: A pretty boy. His apparence didn't betrayed his character: He's still a wise, intelligent, smart, analytical character with his weakness on making and appreciating art; he's still a good person who wants to abolish slavery, who traits Elam like a "son" instead of his slave (yet he does most of what he should be able to do by himself) and has devotion to Denka and a bromance relationship with Daryun. I'm a fangirl of Narsus, and I can Tell you, I don't mind the design, the fact that he's intelligent, a good person and a -flawed- artist is what I love about him, not just his looks. >People say Farangies' clothed may kill her in battle, which is true. But also, Arslan and Daryun are the only ones who wear armor throughout the whole anime (without counting Étoile because they're not part of Team Arslan per se), following this logic, the painter, Elam, Alfarid, Jaswant and Gieve may also get killed. Yes, she's a Priestess, but this isn't the first time we see a Priestess in reveling clothes: Sophitia Alexandra is an example. She's supposed to be timid, and is a Priestess of Hephestus, yet in Soulcalibur IV she has a semi-transparent white skimpy dress. Also people say that this version of Farangies is "the worst" because she has reveling clothes, but having reveling clothes doesn't make her less beautiful, as well as having tons of clothing doesn't make a girl way more beautiful. Farangies has lovely mature facial features, and she's a lovely person too, serving as an elder sister for Alfarid and actually talking to her and clarifying her idea of what "being loved" is (most likely to attract Narsus, but we all know that will may not happen, they may be just "Friends" of some sort). So, again, appearence doesn't always mean character. Arslan Senki is a pretty average show, indeed. But its not bad at all. S1 tried to put something fresh in the table, and even if it isn't as well-known in the West, I can see why people can't really enjoy it as much as I or another people here did. I appreciate the story, the characters, the setting,the music, the messages... Arslan Senki is as beautiful as it gets. I personally see the phase of leaving teenager years and reaching matureness the most beautiful thing un life, as you can go back and either laugh or cringe at the things you did when you were younger. This phase being portrayed in the skin of a lovely MC as Arslan is one of the things that make the series si beautiful to me. Yet, Linden Films didn't did a good job on this, its worth checking both, anime and manga. People nowadays seem to be attracted to the generic, OP badass edgy protagonist with a beautiful woman behind him, this is why Arslan doesn't fit in today's standards. Also, its worth nothing that the story has existed since 1986, almost 31 years ago. So, Arslan used to be original, yet today we've seen most of the things Arslan has already, this may also make people think that this is a mish-mash of different ideas, but it isn't.

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: Stay With Me

Fairy!Klaine. Based off this art by @magicalplaylist.

Kurt has never experienced snow. This leads him to do something very stupid. ~3000 words (which was a mistake tbh), G, fluff and h/c and more fluff.

Blaine spread his arms and inhaled deeply, enjoying a rare day of Fall warmth in Ohio.

He then almost got dive-bombed by a migrating goose.

“Whoa! Not today, buddy,” he said from the shelter of a nearby shrub. “It’s too nice out for that.”

Once the goose stopped rustling through the branches of the shrub and flew off to reunite with its herd, Blaine emerged, grateful the motion of the branches hadn’t caused him to get pricked by any of the leaves. He’d seen the Big People barely even flinch when they accidentally got jabbed by one of the bushes, but for someone his size, a wound from a pricker bush could do some serious damage.

Blaine started heading for the edge of the Dalton grounds, where the woods were a little less well-maintained than they were at the front of the stately building. There were usually mushrooms growing in the more wild area, and he and his band were in need of a little more food in their stores before the winter hit. They should be safe, but after Trent had heard one of the students say an early snowstorm might be on its way, the Warblers knew they couldn’t be too careful.

“I hope the geese didn’t eat every - oh, good!” he said, clapping his hands together a couple of times when he reached the mushroom patch and saw that there was still plenty of food to be had. He started picking the mushrooms that looked small enough to carry yet big enough to be worth eating when he heard movement from behind him and whirled around to see-

“Excuse me,” another Little Folk said, waving a hand in greeting. “Were you planning on taking all of those?”

“N-no,” Blaine stuttered, startled - he’d never seen a Little Folk who wasn’t a member of his band before. On top of that, this new person was almost too good-looking to be real, with windswept brown hair and luminous blue eyes. “Only as much as I could carry back to Dalton.”

“Dalton?” the boy asked, looking confused. His wings fluttered behind him.

“The school,” Blaine said, gesturing toward the building. “My band and I - the Warblers - we live there.”

“You live in a human den?” the boy said, eyes widening. “But that can’t be safe!”

“They don’t notice us,” Blaine explained. “We stay out of sight in the kitchens, and we don’t take anything they’d miss. If anyone’s ever seen us, they haven’t told anyone else.”

“Be careful,” the boy said. “My people got chased out of a human den once when the Big People saw us and got afraid. We almost lost my dad to one who wanted to lock us up and study us.”

“That’s horrible,” Blaine said after a shocked exhale. “I’ll tell my friends to be on the lookout when I get back.”

The boy smiled. “And I’ll tell my people that there’s another group of us nearby.”

“Who can I tell them I met?” Blaine asked.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I hadn’t introduced myself. I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine.” Blaine stuck his hand out to grip Kurt’s forearm in greeting, lingering possibly a beat too long before releasing. “Do you need any help getting this food back to your people?”

“No, our burrow isn’t far from here - once I bring the first load back, I can find others to help me transport. But maybe we could pick mushrooms together?” Kurt asked, a small smile on his face.

“I’d like that,” Blaine said, grinning back. They worked together quietly for a moment before he asked, “Did you say you’d come from a human den?”

“Yes and no,” Kurt said, turning to face Blaine. “I was very young when we were forced out of that den. Ever since then, we’ve traveled throughout various forests trying to find the perfect one to live in. Our last few dens have all been too warm in the summer - that’s why we came here, where it’s cooler.”

“Just wait until winter,” Blaine joked, going back to his picking. “You’ll miss that heat soon enough.”

“Unlikely,” Kurt snorted cavalierly. “Those temperatures were awful - I can’t wait for it to get cold!”

“Have you ever experienced snow?” Blaine asked, a little concerned - Kurt didn’t seem to be taking winter as seriously as he and his Ohio-native band did.

“Nope! But I’ve heard stories,” Kurt said, bending over to pick more mushrooms. “They say it’s beautiful.”

“It can be, but it’s also dangerous if you’re not prepared.”

“We’ll be prepared,” Kurt said confidently. “There’s nothing my people and I can’t handle.”

“If you say so,” Blaine said mildly, not wanting to start a fight with a person he was already considering a new friend.

“I’m going to be the first one out to explore the snow,” Kurt said, sighing happily. “I bet it’s going to be magical.”

“The first snowfall is always special,” Blaine said, a half-smile forming on his face as he remembered past winters. “You just need to make sure you have plenty of food stored away by then, because there’s not a good way to get more once the snow comes, especially if you don’t live in a human den.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Kurt said. “I guess I’ll be spending the next few days exploring the woods to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

“These mushrooms should grow back in about a week, maybe a little earlier if it rains,” Blaine said. “Feel free to come back here whenever you need - though I’d appreciate it if you left a few for us.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Kurt said, smiling. “I’d hate for my friend to starve.”

“Friend?” Blaine repeated, smiling back.

“If you’d like to be.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Then I hope to see you soon, Blaine,” Kurt said, picking up an armload of mushrooms and propelling himself into the air. He hovered just above Blaine’s head.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon,” Blaine replied, taking a load for himself.

________________________

Five days later, Blaine stared out of the ventilation pipe near the Warblers’ den, concerned. The early snowstorm Trent had heard about was rearing its ugly head, and all Blaine could think about was the conversation he and Kurt had had before.

“He wouldn’t really have gone out there, would he?” Blaine whispered, watching the heavy flakes blanket the grounds. “I warned him. Twice, even!”

Kurt and Blaine had run into each other again a couple of days after their first meeting, both merely out exploring rather than on another supply run. They had ended up sitting and talking for hours in a secluded area in the Dalton gardens, sharing stories of their lives and experiences. Kurt had still been dead set on going out in the snow even after Blaine’s story about Wes almost losing his toes to frostbite, and the memory of the determination on Kurt’s face filled Blaine with fear.

“He’s stubborn, but he’s not stupid,” Blaine said, trying to convince himself. “Seeing how hard this stuff can come down would show him that he was better off staying inside.”

Unless he went out before it started snowing and got stuck, an unhelpful voice in the back of Blaine’s head chimed.

A shudder ran down Blaine’s spine.

“It didn’t start snowing until this afternoon,” he said. “If Kurt was out in the morning….”

Blaine forced himself to turn away from the window so he wouldn’t fixate on all the places Kurt could be stuck. He couldn’t hold out very long, but by the time he turned around, he noticed the storm was easing up.

“I’ve got to go after him,” Blaine said, running to find his warmest sweater and scarf. It still wasn’t as much protection as the weather warranted, but typically he and the Warblers didn’t go out in the snow for longer than it took to make a few snow angels and have a quick snowball fight. Heavier protection wasn’t necessary.

“Blaine?” David asked when they crossed paths on Blaine’s way out. “Where are you going?”

“I’m afraid Kurt went out before the storm hit and got trapped somewhere. I just need to be sure he’s safe,” Blaine said, securing his scarf around his neck.

“Tell me exactly where you’re going,” David said firmly. “I won’t stop you from going after Kurt, but if you also don’t make it back, I need to know where to look for you.”

“We’ve always met up by the mushroom patch,” Blaine said. “I’m going to start there and maybe check the edge of the forest, but I promise I won’t go in unless I actually hear Kurt’s voice.”

“You swear?”

“I swear,” Blaine said, looking David right in the eye.

“Good luck, then,” David said, clasping Blaine on the shoulder for a moment before letting him pass.

Blaine carefully slipped out the window above the kitchen sink, thankful that none of the Big People had noticed that it didn’t actually shut tightly. Once he was out, he jumped off the ledge outside the window into the snow with a muffled thud. The flakes were thick enough that Blaine didn’t sink very far into them as he walked, which was a small mercy - he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything for Kurt if he couldn’t even walk properly.

Once he neared the mushroom patch, he started calling out for Kurt.

A nearly inaudible whine from the nearby brush made Blaine walk closer to the forest’s edge.

“Kurt?” Blaine ducked under a snow-bent sapling, hearing the noise again. “Kurt!”

Kurt was huddled against the trunk of the sapling, legs hugged to his chest and tucked as far under his tunic as they would go. His toes, fingers, and face were turning blue, while his limbs were alarmingly pale, even for Kurt’s naturally fair complexion.

“Blaine?” Kurt mouthed, soundless.

“We’ve gotta get you inside,” Blaine said, panic and alarm giving way to an instinctive sense of determination.

“Al-r-r-r-ight,” Kurt said, weakly pushing himself upright. He managed to get to his feet, but instantly started swaying when he tried to move away from the tree trunk.

“Whoa, whoa,” Blaine said, running over to steady Kurt. He hissed at the frigid feeling of Kurt’s skin. “I’ll carry you - except I don’t know how to navigate your wings-”

“Grab - below,” Kurt said, slowly wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck.

“Below - like this?” Blaine said, crouching to cradle one arm beneath Kurt’s legs before straightening and placing the other at the base of his wings.

“Y-y-”

“Yes, okay,” Blaine said, getting the idea. “Hang on as tight as you can. I’ve got you.”

He gripped Kurt closely and set off, gritting his teeth. Dalton wasn’t that far away - he’d have Kurt safe and warm in no time.

Of course, Blaine wasn’t used to carrying another Little Folk, especially one that was actually slightly taller than he was. He had to slow down a little as the weight of Kurt grew heavier in his arms, but he refused to let himself stop, knowing the risk was too great if he did.

“Oh, crap,” Blaine said softly when the kitchen door was in sight. “How are we gonna get back in?”

“Mmm?” Kurt tried to raise his head, but Blaine shushed him gently.

“Rest, Kurt. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

For me, on the other hand…, he thought wryly.

As he approached the door, though, he noticed that it seemed to be open just a crack - not very wide, but enough to let a Little Folk in.

“He’s back! They’re back!” Trent yelled once Blaine and Kurt were inside.

Wes, David, and Thad swiftly shut the door after them.

“Oh, he looks bad, Blaine,” Wes said, turning to face the pair. “Get him to the common room - I think there are still some embers burning from earlier.”

“Good idea,” Blaine said, setting off again. “Will someone bring my blankets down, too?”

“I’ve got them!” Nick said, running up beside him with an armload of fabric scraps. “We’re one step ahead of you.”

“You guys are amazing,” Blaine said gratefully.

“You care about Kurt, so we care about Kurt,” David said, shrugging a shoulder. “But we also don’t want to overwhelm him, so we’ll leave you two alone once you’re set up by the fire.”

Blaine nodded his understanding and kept walking.

“We think all of the humans have gone home for one of their school breaks, so you and Kurt should be safe to stay out here for a while,” Nick said once they reached the fireplace, depositing Blaine’s blankets in a heap on the bricks. “And we’re gonna try to come by every couple of hours or so in case you or Kurt need anything. We don’t want him to wake up alone somewhere unfamiliar - how scary would that be?”

“I don’t know how to thank you all,” Blaine said, placing Kurt gently on the bricks next to the blankets before clasping Nick’s elbow for a moment.

“Just help him get better,” Nick said. “We’ve all noticed you’ve seemed happier since you and Kurt met, even if it’s only been a few days. We don’t want you to lose that.”

He walked off before Blaine could respond, saving him from having to formulate a reply. How could he? Blaine knew he cared deeply for Kurt, but he wasn’t quite sure how to put those feelings into words just yet.

“Mmm...Blaine?” Kurt mumbled, stirring slightly.

“Hey, I’m here,” Blaine said, kneeling down beside Kurt. “You’re safe now. We’re back at Dalton.”

“Cold,” Kurt said, voice going whiny. “And my hands hurt.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Blaine said. He quickly grabbed his blankets and spread them over Kurt before burrowing under them himself, suddenly exhausted. “I’m going to be right here, okay? If you wake up before I do, just shake me?”

A snore from Kurt made Blaine think that Kurt probably hadn’t heard that message, but he figured Kurt would wake him eventually. He tucked Kurt’s head into his neck to ensure Kurt’s face would also warm up and drifted off to sleep, happy to have Kurt close.

______________________

“Blaine?”

Blaine grunted at the familiar voice but resisted waking, too cozy to acknowledge the real world.

“Blaine!”

When Blaine registered who was speaking, his eyes snapped open.

“Kurt!”

“Where are we?” Kurt asked, lifting his head off of Blaine’s chest a little to look around in curiosity.

“Dalton,” Blaine said. “I tried to tell you when we got back, but you must have been too out of it to understand.”

“This is Dalton? It’s beautiful,” Kurt said, awestruck. “But should we be out in the open like this?”

“We’re pretty sure the humans have left for a couple of weeks,” Blaine said, keeping Kurt pressed close to him even as he moved to sit upright. “Are you feeling warmer?”

“I’m warmer than I could have imagined,” Kurt said. “It may not have ever snowed where we used to live, but it still got chilly. I didn’t know it was possible to be this warm in winter.”

Kurt’s wonder at being warm in winter made Blaine’s heart clench - he’d never experienced cold so frequently that it became matter-of-fact to him, and he hated that Kurt had.

“Then stay here,” Blaine said, realizing he may have sounded a little more desperate than he would have preferred. “I mean, I don’t want to separate you from your people, but you definitely can’t go back out yet - Trent heard the storms were supposed to last all weekend. If you try to leave now, you’ll freeze, but even then...I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t really want to go,” Kurt said, voice soft. “But I can’t leave my people forever.”

‘There’s room for them here!” Blaine said. “We made our den in the kitchen, but there are other rooms in this building that your people could use, or even other kitchens in other buildings if they really want their space. I know you ran into bad humans in the past, but we’ve been at Dalton for years now, and the girls of my people have been at their den for even longer, and no one has ever threatened us.”

“Wait, the girls of your people don’t live with you?” Kurt asked, nose scrunching.

“It’s been that way as long as I can remember - I don’t know why,” Blaine said, shrugging. “But I assure you, we’ve never run into bad humans here.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt said, considering. “I think some of our elders are too afraid of humans to ever want to live in one of their dens again. But I think the younger ones could be convinced, and my father, well….”

“Well?” Blaine repeated.

“He knows I’ve been happier than ever before since I met you,” Kurt said. “And he’ll be worried sick about me until I can make it home. If I tell him there’s a way for us to stay safe from the weather and be near each other, I think he’d be the first person to move in here.”

“So you’ll try to convince your people to come? I know I’ve been focusing on you, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt by this weather, either,” Blaine said, squeezing Kurt’s hand.

Kurt let out a hiss. “Ow! But yes, I’ll talk to them as soon as it’s safe for me to go back.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you! Your skin will probably be tender for a little while as you warm up,” Blaine said, petting over Kurt’s hand in apology. “And I can go with you, if you’d like. Living proof, and all that.”

“I’ll always want you to be with me,” Kurt said, beaming at Blaine. “Especially if you can be with me under the blankets. I’m getting cold all over again.”

Blaine yanked the blankets back up over them swiftly. “You have no idea how scared I was when I found you,” he said, pulling Kurt close. “Please don’t do that to me ever again.”

“I don’t plan on it,” Kurt said, nuzzling into Blaine. “I still want to play in the snow, but I think I’ll wait until someone who’s actually experienced it before tells me it’s safe next time.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Blaine said happily.

[mortallyinsaneobsession]

To Zachary

To all those who broke me

Father, biological at most. You created me by accident, but left me alone on purpose. You were the first man to break my heart. You caused me to question myself and everything I stand for. I chose to call you by your first name instead of dad because you are not my dad, you’re a stranger. It hurts the most to know that your other kids are more important than me. You probably couldn't remember my birthday or how to spell my name. All the time you work 6mins from my house. The time you knocked out off of pills when I was over, instead of spending time knowing your daughter.

Grandmother, my “father’s" mother, you only asked me to come and visit because you felt guilty for not being a part of my life. No amount of gifts will even make up for the comments about my weight or the fact that you don’t remember my birthday. The gifts were always clothes I would never wear, 2 sizes too big. All the pictures in you photo albums are pointless. The night that you found out about my self harm and looked at me bawling my eyes out and refused to let me call my granny, that’s when I started to hate you. I stayed away for over a year and come back to tell you the news of getting in to my dream school, in to the number one liberal arts school, only for you to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough once more.

Michael, you were a father figure, but the worst one I’ve ever had. You drank beer till it made your temper uncontrollable. You made my mother in to a Monster. You screamed at me because I couldn't spell or didn't have good Enough hand writing until I was crying so hard I couldn’t breath. You tried to treat me like your child but thankfully I wasn’t. You made me question the reality of god. You made me miss so many days of school in second grade because the pain pills where all the way in Florida. You took away my childhood. I’ll never forget the time that you threw my dinner out the car window or the one when you pitched keys across the parking lot hitting me so hard the pain brought me to my knees.

Dad, or should I call you by your first name now? You showed me a lot about how to live life. You honestly helped bring me out of a dark place, for those things I am grateful. You however also caused me a lot of heart ace. I don’t blame the vodka or the drugs, those things were simply around. I blame you for always going back. It broke my heart to watch you have withdrawals so bad that you seized. It hurt me to see the track marks on you arms. I wish that you would have gotten better but you just left, that seems to be the trend here. You gave me a little brother, I can never thank you enough for that. But being replaced by a baby you had with a woman only a few years older than me, that really sucks. I wish that I could make you better, I wish that I could call you but it would do no good.

My first love, you made me believe love was a lot like hate. You made a church seem unholy. You made me feel like my body was yours whenever you wanted it. I changed so much about myself to make you happy, but I never was. You left finger print bruises all over my body and convinced me it was because you cared. You used me for years, me and any other girl you could get your hands on. You had a way with words both evil and kind. You kept convincing me to forgive you and I always did, that was my mistake. I distanced myself from you for over a year but I decided to forgive and forget. 2 months later you put your hands on your new girl. All I could think was that could have been me and that’s terrifying. You put me through so much hell, cheating, calling me 186 times when I tried to leave you, the treating text messages, the time you made me cry the whole shift at KFC and still took my clothes off when you drove me home. You made me believe sex was the way to love. That ruined my persecution of love.

The next, you convince me that you wanted me purely for nudes and sex. You refused to tell anyone we were “talking" you made me feel like I was something to be embarrassed and ashamed of. I’ll never forget the text were you told me you never actually liked me. I wanted so badly to be important to you, but I guess I was never good enough

Some boys, you never took the time to get to know me other than in the back seat of your car or in your bed. I tried the best way I knew how to makr boys love me, with sex, I guess it doesn't work that way. I was nothing to you. Most probably don’t even admit it. It makes me feel disgusting every time I think of you. I would never be what you wanted, ever.

Hotel room, you took me to your hotel to “hang out" and I was stupid enough to actually go. You took advantage of a drunk girl. I cant bring myself to call it rape, but I know that I didn’t want it to happen. I hope that you realize what you did was wrong and I hope you never make another girl have to take a cab home from the worst night if her life. I took so many showers to try and wash off the way I felt, it hasn’t worked.

Roof top, you made me open my eyes to a new way on seeing. You made me feel my worth for the first time. You were one of the only people that took time to get to know me, but you still left me alone. You heard all the people that had done it before then you did it again. You promised to always be a friend at least, but even when I was trying to decide if I should take my life or not, you left me on read. I poured my heart out to you for you to break it one more time.

The last, you tried to buy my love by putting gas in my tank and posting pictures of me. You wanted me to change so many things about myself. I was never the girl you thought you loved, that’s what you made me to be. I was never good enough for you or anyone else before. I jumped every time you moved your hand up my thigh because I knew what was about to happen. Your touch made me feel dirty. You made me feel like I wasn’t worth your trust. You brought up things from my past just to hurt me. You made me feel like I was so little and so insignificant to the world.

Myself, you do not go with out blame. You did worse when you knew better. You never spoke up to tell those who hurt you what they did. You took the blade in to your skin, you are the reason that all this kept happening. Your personality and body is the reason that boys never stuck around. You never know when to be quite. You have so many things that need improvement .

I am who I am because the things that have happened to me. I grew up with a horrible father, and father figures that were not any better. My mom wasn’t around much at all, but she's done a lot better these last few years. I talk loud because yelling is the only way what I said would be listened to. I have done a lot of things I’m not proud of, but I can’t un do them. I trust more than I should and forgive too easy. I’ve been told my heart is the best and the worst thing about me, I love hard but I forgive those not worth forgiving. I cant blame one thing for making my life hard because it was one thing after another. I have never felt like I belonged in a single place. I have no idea where I want my life to go. I’m not perfect, no matter how hard I try. I still have thoughts of hurting myself some days, no matter how long it's been. I still look in the mirror and see ugliness no matter how much weight I lose or how much makeup I put on. I try my very best to make everyone happy. I’d do anything for anyone. I want so badly to belong, but some how I always feel excluded. I cry when anyone raises there voice at me or is upset with me because it makes me feel like the biggest fuck up. I wish I was a different person most days. I wish I would have done a lot of things differently. I will never be what I want to be, but I’m trying every fucking day. I blame myself for letting a lot of things continue that I had the power to stop. I should have listened and I should have tried harder at times. Some days I’m on top of the world other days I cant get out of bed.

I ask that you tell me if you stop loving me the moment that you realize. I ask that you tell me why you love me from time to time when I need it. I ask that you hold my hand when I get nervous. I ask that you try to use kind words when you’re angry. I ask that you don’t let me push you away when times get hard. I ask that you open up to me when you’re ready..

I’m telling you all of this because I believe that it will make you better understand the reasoning behind me. The reasons I cry more than I should and the reason I need a lot of attention some times.

I appreciate everything you do for me. I feel more loved by you than I ever have. Thank you for taking care of me, thank you for never making fun of my laugh, thank you for braiding my hair, thank you for doing your best. You mean so much to me Zach. I hope that by reading this you may understand me.

[mcrmadness]

Rant about how I can’t draw anymore... it shouldn’t have got this long but as it did anyway, I’m gonna put a read more link there eh...

Asdfdeghawbfk I’ve been reading some webcomics on Tumblr and the more I see the pics the more I want to draw too! I just don’t know what to draw. I lost my inspiration years ago. I guess I just became this boring adult or something. Not really as I’m still very child-like by my mind but I think all my energy and imagination is rented by my mental illness as it loves to make up weird scenarios and false alarms 24/7 so there’s none left for my own use...

So far only things I can came up with is drawings related to my mental stuff and it makes me angry because it’s just lots of text along with badly drawn pictures of nothing interesting. I already write way too much of my nonsense no one is interested in and it’s spreading to my art too.

It’s sad because drawing had been my hobby since I could handle a pen. I guess it ended few years ago when I used to do lots of portraits. Just fanart basically but those were never good enough. For me as I’m a huge perfectionist. I was good at the mechanics but not so good at making them look original. I think the major breakdown was when my friend told me that she doesn’t understand people who draw portraits because it’s just basically a copy of a photo and is lacking the soul or story of the drawing itself. She got the point and I was and still am not angry at her, but it made me realize that they were just not-even-perfect copies of photos.

I also was bullied at school and made feel like I was worth nothing and everyone just hated (on) me and I felt pretty shit and I was lonely as hell (I had no friends at school for almst 2 years in straight), I drew a lot and that was my way of getting the attention and approval I couldn’t get. And it was never enough. I did not draw because it was fun but because I wanted it finished, uploaded to Deviantart and to see if I could get comments and I was ALWAYS disappointed and felt like the world is against me and it’s my destiny that no one will ever see me no matter what I do. I was grateful for everyone leaving a like or comment but it was not enough... so maybe they lacked the soul because y only intention with them was to get attention. So I slowly stopped drawing.

I also can’t draw anything just like that. I’m terrible and it also made me even more depressed and angry because everytime I tried drawing something that was no copying, they turned out 57825792 times worse. And I just felt like I actually couldn’t even draw shit so I was just lying to myself, I was pretending to be good at drawing when in reality I sucked so bad and just was faking for myself because I knew how to mechanically draw, but not how to draw with just my mind as the reference pic. I don’t know if they looked so horrible for everyone or just for me, but it made me so damn angry. And I’m not an angry person but when I tried to draw it just made me so stressed out and I wanted to break everything and throw stuff out of the window so I stopped.

AND YET I still feel the urge to draw but I don’t know WHAT to draw. Okay since the first Deadpool movie I’ve been wanting to draw this once scene from it but I’ve never started because it’s too much work to go and find that scene on the bluray and actually get that paused so you can see the lines well enough. So I’ve been thinking about that scene for over 2 years and have done nothing. Also it would just be one stupid-ass piece of fanart portrait which lack the soul and it’d be just for me to do something DP related for couple of hours as that’s probably only way to do something lasting that long. Unless I watch the movie or play the game 24/7 but... maybe not :DD (Also still can’t beat the last boss in the game because they really did not think about players using keyboard so it’s pissing me off too. I really want to know how the damn game ends!)

I also love comics and I started drawing comics when I was 9-10 years old. Or first I started with just series of pictures. Acually have to tell this one here: always the same story tho about a dino riding another dino like a horse in a competition, and then falling over this water hurdle that was deeper than swim pools what the fuck - and it ended with him watching the competition from tv with his family and he was in a wheel chair with an overall plaster cats what was wrong with me??? But I also did draw on coloring books, once I draw with a red crayon on some sort of swan, I drew wounds and blood everywhere and kept telling a story of how lion had attacked it and my aunt was there listening to me horrified :DDD I also remember how I once drew a cat family that apparently turned out to be so dangerous they had chains and all and eventually I ended up drawing lines over the whole paper because they were also behind a ighly securited fence. Okay, I know this sounds pretty creepy, but actually I’ve always liked animals over people so I have no clue why I drew things like these when in the end I could never hurt animals. Maybe Jurassic Park and other movies, as well as documents about animals, had something to do with this? Who knows...

(I also have traumas for the movie “Homeward Bound”, the scene where the cat’s in the basket in the middle of the river and the dog is trying to rescue it. I was very young at the time when my mom caught me in front of that movie crying like a... baby? because of that cat. I haven’t been able to watch that film ever again. So that probably tells you how much I love animals and especially cats as I’ve always lived with cats and we had three when I was born. But I did adopt this to my plays as a kid, I loved so much to play when someone or even better if it was a GROUP OF KIDS that were in a huge danger and they needed to be rescued. I did this with every single play I played back then. Still love it when x rescues y but nowadays more like on an emotional level as I was always alone against the people hating me and I could only dream about someone standing for me.)

BUT TO THE COMICS. At first they were just stream of consciousness without any plot, I created new characters all the time and never finished their stories as they had no plot ever. Also loved drawing “biographies”, usually it was some female anthropomorphic animal or insect that used clothes and had hair because I loved drawing different styles, make up and hair/hairdos to them. And often it started with couple of panels telling about her story from the beginning, then jumped to some age and next thing was panel per age at the same time telling about her in tht age. The idea was just to draw lots or hair and clothes, and then it ended with some age I considered “adult enough” and then their teenage/adult life started with boyfriends and stuff. Usually it was pretty much an ugly duckling kind of story where they were different and maybe bullied because of something (this one bunny had floppy ears so they did everything to get them pointy because she was bullied I guess? At least she hated her ears. Btw this was my first real comic ever!). But you can see why I still love playin The Sims games! :D

After these endless stories about nothing particular I came up with the idea of actually writing a plot and then drawing. Ended up with plenty of short comics that actually had a plot and some idea in them. The characters did change tho and I probably had couple of stories of each different characters. They were also always animals but no more antropomorphic but just animals that had speech bubbles.

My last comics ever (so far) have been two originals and one that I drew as a fanart. The two originals were called Micro - The Insane Murdered, and Little Emo Bird.

Micro was this dino-like creature, yet another anthropomorphic character because I did not know how to draw people without copying anyone’s style and I just never came up with humans as characters. So the header tells it, Micro is a murderer. This one I actually liked a lot! I was 15-17 when I drew him, but it was also much gore as, well, he’s a murderer. Or just a killer as he’s pretty much insane and doesn’t plan but just acts out of blue. I think I drew 3 different short stories for him and I had the last one written down. It was pretty interesting as I didn’t draw him for a while and when I remembered those plans and came back, I had had my identity crisis and EVERYTHING had changed. Original plan was to get him a girlfriend - after he was caught for his crimes and snet to prison,m he later was sent to an asylum for prisoners. This story should have taken place in there, introducing fellow inmates and Micro just felt like he was not in the right place as he was not ill. And then he would have met this girl and they’d have fallen in love and so on. But when I later checked that out I was so... confused :D Like, this is not me? This is what I hate now? Romance, ew, heteronormativity, ew, JUST THE CLICHÉS, BIG EW. So I just wrote these this very deep wall of text about his personality but it never turned into a comic. But I remember how proud I was about it as Micro was meant to be partly me but also something I could never be and never will be and what not, just some pretty cheesy blabber that felt good back then but right now would feel just as stupid as the first plan :D

The second one, Little Emo Bird, was an interesting one as well. I created it as a joke because I was a huge My Chemical Romance fan and there was this never-ending debate over if they’re emo or not (and as a fan I believed them so they were not emo) and created LEB. It was this bird and you usually saw just his head and occassionally wings too and he was very stereotypical emo with black hair and he was very suicidal and angry 24/7. Also others called him gay when he insisted that he was not. But actually I always imagined him with a girl emo bird instead of another boy bird but it was just the another stereotype that emoboys are gays. So it was not meant to be mean but just fun. I also liked him very much because he talked with me - the drawer/writer. Like he knew he can’t kill himself because I won’t let him and it pissed him off very. much. And he hated how the panels he was in had frames looking like scars. Oh my bad, the panels were not scars but the arrows pointing the next panel :D I’m not sure if he was actually suicidal but at least he acted like one because he was desperate for attention and tried to get attention to show no one gives a fuck about him and the would get angry for stupid reasons. So basically just a very moody teenager. 

I have all these on my DeviantArt if someone’s interested, but I want to link here one of the... memes? What the shit these DA fill-this-thing were actually called memes? I wonder if they still are o.O Anyway, I want to link this one because I think it’s still the best one and I really like the outcome here :D

Here’s also the link to my dA as this empty meme was done by someone else and I wanna give credits. Oops, apparently it’s a deactivated account so nevermind, but here’s the link anyway.

The latter and so far the latest comic was about Die Ärzte, or more about the slash pairing (still my OTP) and I drew couple of comics about them, as well did write fanfiction too. These comics were my first to have human characters as I was tired of drawing everyone always in the form of animals (horses usually) just because I didn’t know how to draw people, and many people found their animal forms really disturbing to view so I changed to people.

After those I just haven’t drawn anything really. Comics would be nice, once I actually thought it would be interesting as a career but then again, I can’t work under pressure and I couldn’t live from art because you never know when the artblock hits you. Right now it’s been on for couple of years and basically only way to create something atm is to play The Sims 3 and write my TS3 blog. At least it’s something, pics with text so... I still would love to draw but I just have NO IDEA of any concept or anything.

Also just want to say here that after thinking about my Micro and LEB it’s weird how there’s certain things that actually are just the things that made me start liking Deadpool. (I’d have written ‘fall in love’ but as much as he is a fictional character, he’s still a human being and I don’t/can’t love humans...) It just shows that I’ve always like that kind of things with comics but didn’t know they existed outside of my comics until I found out about DP. Have to admit tho, that I haven’t read any DP comics... But I have an excuse: I don’t know if there’s a way to get those in Finland. ANYWAY, I just feel like someone would think these were affected by DP but actually they were not. Micro and LEB both were created in 2008 and I did not find out about Deadpool until in... 2013-2014 I think? And even then it was just occassional browsing in the internet before the movie trailers came out and that’s when I really got interested and started reading about him a lot and bought the game and here I am now. Acually not sure if it was in 2013 when we were just rewatching the X-Men movies and a friend of mine probably mentioned Deadpool at some point and told some things about him that got my attention. But really I got interested bit later anyway.

I really feel like I should do some sort of comparison between me drawing from photos vs. me drawing from my head to show how huge the difference is. And this annoys me a lot because I feel like I’ve been using these photos to LEARN to draw better but it just feels like my skills are at the maximum no matter how much I’d practice, and I’m not happy with the result as I feel like I should learn even more but how do you learn if your skill is stuck??? People always say that you just need to draw every day and a lot and they don’t understand that’s what I did and never could cross a certain point. I probably was also very jealous at my siblings because they were 5732850 times better than me who had been drawing longer than them (as I’m 3½ years older), just seeing them to improve made me so angry because I did not seem to improve at all. With copy drawings I did tho! But not with the ones I wanted to.

Now, I also know that lots of artists use lots of reference photos and that’s actually great and made me feel better as I always assumed everyone is naturally that awesome and I can’t even learn more; so it made me feel better because I also have permission? I’m not fake for using photos? But I’m just this... all or nothing so I very easily feel like I’ve betrayed myself if I don’t draw all by myself and then I need to point out that hey I’m not this good in reality I used a photo heh don’t think I’m a naturally gifted as I’M NOT asddd. So yeah, my need to constantly explain myself is on the way with this one too :))) But I don’t think this would be so bad anymore if I now started drawing again, but the biggest problem still is, that I still have that artblock and I haven’t had inspirations in years. Apart from that DP fanart idea which I don’t know if I should carry out or not... sigh.

...I want teh comics!!! I once even wanted to start this webcomic diary because I used to read lots of them but even that idea was dead from the beginning because my life is so boring there’s nothing to draw about. I also have drawn couple of comics of our cats but again it’s the thing I can’t (or I make myself believe that I can’t...) draw the way it’d look nice and appealing, now they’re just black and white mess.