#seriously i am so freaking humbled by this i am still sobbing

[laurabenanti]

@benantis → @laurabenanti

i am screaming still over the fact that this was given this for my birthday by two very awesome people, through the help of another awesome person, because they're awesome. i am forever grateful and i love you friends so much. ❤︎

some mutuals below so they know (and absolutely forgot people in the process, i am so sorry):

@maximilff, @agathadanbury, @sculien, @singinprincess, @detkatebenson, @lordjohnwgrey, @cargopantsprentiss, @drbrennans, @connie-rubirosa, @fourteenthofaugust, @userstarling, @userspeaknowtv, @bennsolos, @ronandreams, @evelynwangs, @hightowres, @nawjoon, @wistfulwatcher

[starwarsnonsense]

Colin Trevorrow's Women Problem

At the moment of writing, my ask box is full of messages about The Book of Henry, the newly released film from Colin Trevorrow, who is both writing and directing Episode IX. This is because BOH is, to put it mildly, getting terrible reviews. These reviews don’t just say the film is bad. They say the film is a disaster on the scale of The Room (no, not the one with Brie Larson) and Birdemic.

Perhaps more worrying, though, is the suggestion that BOH is terrible at characterising its female characters, who apparently include an infantile mother whose every move is dictated by her 11-year-old son’s instructions, an alcoholic waitress who kisses a young boy on the lips, and a schoolgirl who exists to be sexually abused and subsequently rescued thanks to a boy’s genius. This is, understandably, a cause of concern given that Trevorrow will soon be the arbiter of Rey’s fate - the same man responsible for The Book of Henry will soon be responsible for giving the heroine of the Star Wars sequel trilogy her voice.

The issues with BOH seem to go beyond an insidious edge of sexism - reviews point out wild tonal jumps and ludicrously misjudged directorial choices. While it might be tempting to place most of the blame for the characterisation on the scriptwriter, Trevorrow’s handling of the material only seems to have magnified its faults and heightened the bizarre tonal inconsistency. This points towards the responsibility for BOH’s failure lying largely with Trevorrow. Any assignment of blame aside, Trevorrow has treated BOH as a passion project, having been working on getting it made for around 10 years - for some mystifying reason, he found what appears to be objectively bad material an enticing directorial prospect. At best, this seems to indicate poor judgement - at worst, it indicates troubling detachment from the qualities of sound and emotionally resonant cinema.

I haven’t seen BOH for myself. If you want to read reviews from people who have seen it, check out the notices on the film’s Rotten Tomatoes page (the score currently stands at 25%). Because I haven’t seen BOH for myself I am not in a position to truly judge it, so I intend to move on. Instead, I will briefly discuss the other Trevorrow projects I have seen and my feelings on them.

The first Trevorrow film I saw was Jurassic World. I thought it was fine - it was bland and by the numbers, a pillar of corporate cinema, but mostly inoffensive to me. I only became conscious of its more insidious aspects when I started reading think-pieces on the portrayal of its female characters and the attitudes demonstrated towards them. Bryce Dallas-Howard’s character is uptight and shrill, a career woman whose ‘arc’ sees her humbled and restored to her proper maternal role (of caring for her nephews) and the status of assigned love interest to the hunky hero. Poor Katie McGrath suffers an even more ignominious fate - we see her screaming body being mauled by an assortment of dinosaurs more than we see her developed as a character. Trevorrow gave a spectacularly ill-conceived explanation of the thinking behind McGrath’s character’s death to Empire magazine:

But we definitely struggled over how much to allow her to earn her death, and ultimately it wasn't because she was British, it was because she was a bridezilla. She has one line about the bachelor party: 'Oh, all his friends are animals.' In the end, the earned death in these movies has become a bit standard and another thing I wanted to subvert. 'How can we surprise people? Let's have someone die who just doesn't deserve to die at all.

It’s almost like he catches up with himself here, giving the true reason for her punishment (how dare a woman be invested in her wedding! Brutal torture incoming!) before correcting himself by saying she didn’t deserve to die. The clumsiness of the back-track would be almost amusing if it weren’t for the insidiousness of the initial remark.

Much more recently, I watched Safety Not Guaranteed. I mentioned this on the podcast, and if I’m being entirely honest the film has soured for me since then. While I can’t really pinpoint outright sexism in SNG (though there is a definite aspect of Manic Pixie Dream Girl to the lead character, whose ultimate purpose seems to be getting a socially awkward loner out of a funk), I can highlight the remarkably bland and uninspired direction. While I appreciate that Safety Not Guaranteed was low budget and the first feature Trevorrow had ever made, I still find it remarkable that it demonstrates almost no creative flair or visual imagination yet still became his calling card in Hollywood. Safety Not Guaranteed was apparently the film that impressed Kathleen Kennedy enough to get Trevorrow on board for Episode IX, but she clearly saw something in it that I did not.

Just yesterday, I watched something from Trevorrow that wasn’t just bad. It was actually repulsive. This film is Trevorrow’s first short film, called Home Base:

This ‘film’ (I use the term in the loosest sense of the word) is, apparently, a comedy. The premise of this ‘film’ is that a man who is dumped by his girlfriend for another man decides to take his revenge on her by ‘fucking her mom’. This man is never questioned or treated as the appalling misogynist he so clearly is, instead being presented as something of a cheeky chappie whose ‘triumph’ at the end of the film (yes, he does it! He fucks her mom! What a hero!) we should applaud while hooting with laughter and slapping our knees. The awful capstone on all of this is an awful correctional speech that the man delivers to his sobbing ex:

I don’t think you’re shallow. I think you’ve got something wrong. You were just emotionally completely disconnected. I mean that whole orgasm thing, I mean it’s not my fault if you can’t come. I’ve tried everything, you’ve done everything. You’re just emotionally frigid, you’re physically frigid. I leave the light on in a room and you freak out, you’re not paying the electricity bill. It’s my apartment. And how you feel about kids. It’s weird.

There we have it - the writer and director of this is also the writer and director of Episode IX. Joy of joys.

And any allegations of sexism aside, just look at that thing. I was amazed by the length of the credits, by the fact that something that looks so shoddy and cheap could even have an ‘Assistant Producer’. It looks like it was shot by a lone agent on a camcorder over a single weekend. This is not the kind of short film that should portend great things. In any just world, this kind of audiovisual abomination should signal an abrupt end to a career in Hollywood.

The fact that Trevorrow has found such extraordinary success despite his track record, with much of his success apparently resting on his personal connections and his ability to charm prominent figures such as Brad Bird and Steven Spielberg, is a troubling indictment of the system that saw Patty Jenkins denied the opportunity to make her second feature for over 15 years. While Oscar-winning female directors struggle to be taken seriously and given opportunities, directors like Trevorrow - who demonstrate little artistic sensibility and only have extremely limited filmmaking experience - are put at the helm of major franchise films. For a highly eloquent explanation of this phenomenon, I strongly recommend checking out Kayleigh Donaldson’s piece on Pajiba. 

I do not have a personal grudge against Trevorrow. In every interview I have seen with him, he has seemed charming, eloquent and enthusiastic. He is clearly passionate about Star Wars and intensely aware of the scrutiny he and his film are under. But at the same time I am troubled by the persistent misogyny and lack of creative flair that have been evident in his work from the beginning of his career. Star Wars films are basically modern myths, totems of Western culture that people look to as a source of inspiration and hope. In particular, this new trilogy is the story of a young woman coming into her power as a hero and grappling with her destiny. It’s a story that should be handled by a filmmaker who has demonstrated an interest in characterising women as something more than props for men’s stories. And I have strong doubts that Trevorrow is up to this task.

I am not saying that Rey shouldn’t have relationships with male characters - Wonder Woman is an excellent demonstration of how a woman’s story can involve a strong central relationship with a man without that bond being shown to diminish her - but I am saying that that shouldn’t become the sum of her story. Nothing would break my heart more than seeing Rey become sidelined in her own film, or reduced to a prop for another character’s journey.

I have loved what I’ve seen from Disney-owned Star Wars so far, and I don’t believe that Kathleen Kennedy will allow Trevorrow to use Episode IX to peddle the retrograde misogyny so clearly on display in Home Base. But I do think it reflects badly on her that Trevorrow was appointed the director of Episode IX in the first place, when there are clearly so many superior directors out there - women and men - who have shown far greater creative flair and competence. I think there will inevitably be a fallout from BOH - most likely after the inevitably dismal box office results emerge - and while I expect it’s too late in the process for Trevorrow to be removed from the project entirely, I fully expect him to receive considerable oversight and have his work scrutinised to ensure that the capstone to this new Star Wars trilogy doesn’t do irreparable damage to the franchise.

[seaofthesoul]

The Light Inside You Chapter 1: The Lily for @cuteandtwisted <3

Summary: In this universe, Isak has hairy feet and is barely more than five feet tall. He lives a quiet life in the Shire, until everything he knows is turned upside down and he has no choice but to embark on an adventure — an adventure which leads him to a life-changing meeting in Minas Tirith.  (Or: the Evak Middle-earth AU nobody asked for) Pairing: Isak/Even Words: 2,172

[READ ON AO3]

The Lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright - William Blake

17 years earlier Afterlithe, FA 49 Bywater, the Shire

The small common room of the humble Valleybarren abode, usually quiet as though buried under the earth and hidden away from the world, is resounding with the shrill screams of a newborn baby signifying its entrance into the world.

Isak is staring wide-eyed at the rosy shape huddled inside a snow-white cotton quilt, vaguely aware that the piercing shrieks should irritate or upset him, but all he can bring himself to feel as he takes in the sight of his little sister for the first time is raw, overwhelming, infinite love.

She’s so perfect, so… alive.

After lingering seconds of silence only filled by the chorus of screams, Isak’s mother looks up into Isak’s eye, the corners of her mouth curled in the most genuine smile she has harboured in a long while. Her eyes—the colour of fertile soil in the spring—sparkle with constellations of happiness and delight more beautiful than the sky Isak spends hours gazing at on warm summer nights.

“Do you want to hold her?” Marigold asks.

Isak silently walks over to the tiny bed his mother is lying in and bends over the worn-out sheets covering her legs, his arms outstretched and ready to be filled with a new world, and suddenly he’s holding...

A warm, unbearably fragile body he immediately presses against his chest in a protective gesture, making sure the tiny head rests comfortably against his bent arm. His free hand (which is shaking ever so slightly, he notices) instinctively curls around the fabric underneath the newborn’s chin, close enough to brush the skin as soft as a young flower’s petals — and the shrieking immediately ceases, as though evaporating under the fond heat of Isak’s gaze. Isak stares longingly at this little thing, so fresh and delicate and beautiful, and he’s overwhelmed by a joy so piercing he feels it flow out of him in a quiet stream against the cheek. Never in his life has he seen anything quite this marvellous.

When a gurgling giggle escapes the infant’s pouty mouth and Isak’s gaze is met with two huge eyes which (Isak thinks) must hold all that is green and good in the Shire and beyond, Isak distantly hears a strangled sob escape his throat.

“Leanora,” he murmurs, “I love you. I love you. I may not be able to save myself, but I promise I will protect you. Always. I won’t ever let you fall.”

Leanora’s tiny hand grips Isak’s index finger, as if sealing the promise enveloping them in a cocoon and shielding them from the cold hands of the outside world.

Present time Thrimidge, FA 64 Bywater, the Shire

The cry of hobbit children resounds far off in the fresh spring breeze. It carries all the way to him as he’s sprawled on the grass on his back, his long limbs stretched around him and his fingers buried in the cool mattress underneath.

The giggles and laughter and playful screeching should make him feel at peace, he thinks. Isn’t that what the joy of children is supposed to inspire? Yet Isak can only feel a pulsing, gaping sadness spread in his chest at the sound. The echoes of happiness and innocence are rushing over him in an inexorable wave, and all he can do is keep on lying, motionless, and waiting for the tide to rise, rise, rise until it drowns him.  

Where has my childhood gone?

His eyes are lost in the infinity of the sky hanging over him, in the blue blue blue blue blue stretching to the confines of his gaze. The pure but painfully bright shade of azure unblemished by clouds, instead of calming him like it should, hurts his eyes and makes him squint. Plunging into the sky’s depths, he almost feels like he’s drowning in it, too.

No escape.

“Isak!” a bubbly and high-pitched voice calls suddenly, making him sit up with a surprised jolt.

Isak’s heart is beating uncontrollably in his chest as he takes in the tiny figure standing a short distance away from him, all bright and soft and vibrant. His eye settles on delicate hands playing with the hem of a cherry-coloured linen dress; a tangled mane of sand-coloured curls falling down to the waist; two small dimples forming on uncommonly pale cheeks — and, just like that, the drumming inside his chest is steadied and he’s brought back from the scary and faraway place he’d been moments before.

Since her birth seventeen years ago, that little girl has painted strokes of colour in Isak’s life and kept him for drifting too far into darkness. She’s been the sun he turns to when all else is an utterly starless night. And today, her sweet and over-excited voice is enough to make the echo of the playing children’s screams fade into the distance until they become but a bad dream hovering on the edge of Isak’s consciousness.

“Hi Lea,” Isak answers quietly, almost startled to hear his own voice. He gives his sister a bright smile, the corners of his mouth never being able to resist perking up in her presence. “What are you doing here, summer lily?”

Lea’s own smile grows until her little chubby face becomes all dimples and sparkly eyes, and she gives off a giggle as she makes her way towards him in short, skipping strides.

“I’ve been looking for you, of course!” she answers with the hint of a pout in her voice. “You’ve been gone for ages, Isi! What are you doing lying down by the Water all by yourself?”

By the time Lea has finished speaking, Isak has stood up and is towering over his sister with a playful smirk on his lips. Lea immediately contradicts the tone of accusation in her remark by jumping enthusiastically into her older brother’s outstretched arms, a loud squeal escaping her lips as Isak easily lifts her and lets her wrap her frail arms and legs around him.

Isak chuckles against his sister’s hair, not quite knowing what to say, and a scent of honey and soft mint tickles his nostrils pleasantly. “Have you been baking with Sam and the children again?” he teases her instead, leaning back to watch Lea’s reaction. His sister’s eyes light up briefly, winking stars scattered across a deep-green sea, but her expression of delight quickly turns into something almost indignant again.

“If you must know: yes, I have.” The endearing contrast between the seriousness of her voice and the poutiness of her lips makes a pool of warmth settle inside Isak’s belly and spread like a drop of ink on parchment. “But I’m sorry, Isak — changing the topic of conversation isn’t going to distract me. I’m not a little girl anymore, I know all about your grown-up diversion tricks now!”    

Isak can’t help the light-hearted mocking seeping into his voice as he exclaims:  “Beg your pardon, Miss Leanora. Quite right, you’re a big girl, you’ve actually almost reached half of my age!” Lea’s fingers dig lightly into his shoulders at that, and a huff (probably intended to sound annoyed but coming off as begrudgingly fond instead) brushes Isak’s neck and makes him giggle quietly.

“Right…” Lea drawls in a highly unconvinced voice. “Mister’s almost thirty-three and thinks he’s one of the big boys now.”  

“I am, though. Just one more month before I’m coming of age!” Isak draws his head back just enough to wink at his sister, knowing that that always manages to infuriate her. Surely enough, Lea squints at him and then rolls her eyes with admirable energy, a long pathetic sigh making it past her lips. Isak frowns when the sigh turns into a coughing fit and Lea’s body starts jerking uncontrollably against his chest for a few moments.

“I don’t even want to think about how smug you’re going to be as soon as you’re officially of age,” Lea manages to say a bit breathlessly after a while, sounding like the mere thought is making her beyond exhausted. “I mean… More smug than you already are, that is. Gosh, you’ve grown so big, too! Are you sure you’re a real hobbit?”

Isak chuckles at that but, this time, he feels a shard of ice lodge itself in his stomach and dissipate the warmth that had been settling there.

Suddenly, the stares and barely concealed huffs of disapprobation that have been following him for as far as he can remember rush back to him in a cloud of hungry flies, hovering above his head and making his insides buzz uncomfortably. The memories—though some of them are more than twenty years old—still sting like so many needles piercing through his soft, vulnerable skin.

“Mommy, what’s this strange man doing here? He can’t be a hobbit, surely?”

“Soon, you’re going to be so big you’ll be able to ride a real horse as huge as Farmer Maggot’s! Can you imagine, Isi?”

“Ain’t seen no hobbit this big since Bullroarer Took! He don’ belong with us, we don’ want no strange folk here!”

“People are going to be jealous as always, but really, what does their opinion matter? They just can’t stand the fact that you could crush them all with one stroke of your very, very long legs. An inferiority complex — that’s all there is to it, I’m telling you!”

“The Took side of the family showing again in the most curious ways, I suppose... Told you they were freaks, Matilda!”

“Isak? Isak, are you even listening to me?!”

The shrill voice, all bells and trumpets, brutally dissipates the distant voices that had been forcing their way into Isak’s brain. Isak blinks and stares at his sister stupidly for a few moments, realising for the first time that she’s leaning back in his arms and looking at him inquisitively. He tries to blink back the drops of humiliation and sadness he can feel burning at the corner of his eyes, but he knows it’s probably too late: his sister always sees everything.

Lea’s gaze becomes sharp, and she tilts her head a little, as though trying to observe her brother from another angle. Her moss-coloured eyes, suddenly full of concern, draw Isak’s into their comforting and sparkling depths until Isak feels like he could just lie down in their midst and sleep, sleep, sleep. No fear, no pain, just a long and peaceful rest.

But Isak shakes himself awake and hurriedly tear his eyes away, knowing from experience that it’s only a question of time before his sister would forcibly suck the poison out of the open wounds of his heart if he let her. He isn’t quite ready for that yet, doesn’t want the ugliness to be let out in the open and stain Lea’s light with black tears.

“Sorry, summer lily, I just got distracted.” Isak’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. He knows Lea notices it too, but he hopes (with something close to fright coiling inside his belly) that she won’t remark on it.  

His sister squints a bit, looking like a thousand words are eager to tumble out of her mouth, but she sighs and doesn’t insist. Isak lets out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Lea asks instead with a radiant smile which steals away the glory of the early afternoon sun. “I was actually looking for you to let you know that there’s soon going to be some fresh honey cake ready, and that you’re welcome to stuff your face with it — not that you ever need my permission to eat a whole cake by yourself anyway, but oh well. Mamma said we need to feed your tall and scrawny almost-of-age body, you know!”

Isak laughs again at that and, this time, it’s entirely genuine. For a moment, the dark ghosts lurking on the verge of his consciousness are chased away by the almost blinding light (coming from Lea or from the sun, Isak can’t tell) which warms Isak’s skin through his clothes, seeping into him in a gentle caress.

He lets Lea down, barely noticing a stiffness in his back at having held her for so long, and he takes her little hand in his big one. The palm resting against his feels strangely frail and cold, and Isak rubs it instinctively as though to colour it with some of the warmth left in him. Isak tries to ignore the small touch of worry tugging at his heart as he reflects vaguely that it’s too warm outside for Lea’s skin to feel chilly as a fragile leaf forgotten in the snow.

When their eyes meet, the brother and the sister smile at each other sweetly for a brief moment, noses scrunched up and eyes glittering.

“Let’s go!”

If only he can hold onto her and her light, Isak thinks, the darkness won’t ever engulf him completely.

[READ EXPLANATORY NOTES ON AO3]

[kookiehao]

[BTS] Jimin-centric - walls have ears (and mouths) (4538 words)

Title: walls have ears (and mouths) Author: kookiehao (arashianelf on LJ and AO3) Pairings: pre-Jikook, Jimin-centric Genre: Fluff, fantasy Rating: G Summary: jimin has a very special ability, and this is how he makes friends with it as he grows up. Notes: so uh, this has been in storage for about seven months. i wrote one third of it before real life caught up and i had to focus on school before i flunked the year, and i finally have time to write and think. this is me trying to break free of my writer's block, so i apologise if it sounds weird throughout and ends on a weird note. i had no idea where i wanted to go with this fic, but i hope you enjoy this short one anyway!

the jikook is only hinted, so please don't expect anything much!

⌂ seokjin ⌂

jimin meets the first when he is but a little boy. he steps into the house his family has recently moved into, the smell of sea salt strong in every part of the house, and someone says, hello. the voice is warm, and welcoming, and jimin ekes out a 'hello' in return.

i see you're new here. oh, you're still so young. am i the first one you've heard, child? the voice says, and jimin says, "first what?" the voice laughs, and the sound wraps around jimin's body like a warm blanket, like home.

your first house, dear child. don't you know? every one of us has a voice. before jimin can reply, his mother and father walk into the house carrying cardboard boxes, and jimin barrels into his father's legs. "appa, appa, can you hear that?" he looks up at his father from where he's clinging onto him, and his father squats down, putting the boxes down as he smiles the trademark park eyesmile at his son.

"hear what, jimin-ah?" "the house! it spoke to me!" jimin gasps, amazed, "and you told me magic didn't exist!" his father stares at him in shock for a while, before he laughs. "i see you've got the family trait, then. appa can't hear it, jimin-ah, but do you know who can?" jimin stares at his father in childish wonder, while his mother looks on fondly at the father and son.

"your harabeoji, jimin-ah." jimin's expression brightens up greatly, and he beams. harabeoji is his favourite grandparent, and to hear that he has something in common with him makes him really happy to hear. "that's so cool! eomma, did you hear that? i have the same power as harabeoji!" jimin whips his head around to face his mother, and she laughs.

"yes, i did, jimin-ah." she opens her arms for jimin to run into, and he does exactly that, burrowing into her embrace. "but you cannot tell anyone that you have this power, alright?" she says seriously, cupping his face in her hands. he tilts his head in question, and she answers, "not everyone has this power, jimin-ah, and there are bad people out there who will hurt you because they don't believe."

"but that's stupid," he says, stomping his foot, "powers are cool! and they're dumb for not believing." the house rumbles with laughter at jimin's words, and the child tears himself away from his mother's embrace to run around the house, trying to find the source of it.

"where is your mouth, mr house?" he asks, standing in the middle of the room that is going to be his for the foreseeable future. the house laughs again. i have no mouth, child. i am everywhere in this structure, and there is nothing that goes on in this house that i am not aware of. your name is jimin, yes? the voice sounds kind, and jimin nods enthusiastically.

"park jimin, seven years old! it's nice to meet you, mr house!" he introduces himself, and the house exudes warmth. my name is seokjin, park jimin. welcome to my humble abode. i look forward to the years with you. it has been far too long since i've had someone like you within these walls.

when jimin first goes off to school, both his parents and seokjin remind him multiple times never to tell anyone that he can talk to seokjin, and all jimin does is stomp his feet impatiently and nod his head furiously. six hours later, he runs into the house ahead of his parents, telling seokjin about his first day at school in excited rambling.

that sets the routine for the next few years. jimin goes off to school after bidding goodbye to seokjin and his parents, and gets on the school bus when it comes. after he hits twelve, he bikes to school.

seokjin is there as a brother figure for him throughout the years, trying his best to soothe him when he hobbles into the house after scraping his knee badly from falling off his bicycle while learning to ride it. seokjin's the one jimin confides in when the people at school start bullying him because of his baby face, the one who convinces jimin not to starve himself, the one who locks jimin into the kitchen until he eats a full meal.

he's the one jimin tells first of all when he starts to realise that he likes guys more than girls, and it's seokjin who tells him that it's okay to like guys, that he's not a freak or anything like that. seokjin also pushes him to tell his parents after weeks of pushing them away by locking all three of them in a room together, who give him really long and tight hugs when he actually gathers the courage to tell them.

jimin consults seokjin when he graduates high school and has to choose his courses for college. the hallways are decked with photos of jimin and his parents throughout the years, from the day they moved in, surrounded by cardboard boxes still unpacked, to the present day, his mother hanging up the photo they took of the three of them and seokjin, jimin in his graduation gown and cap still.

jimin heeds advice from seokjin to at least consider taking dance as a major like he so desperately wants, while his logical side reminds him of the more practical courses like business or law. his parents don't care what he takes, as long as he is happy with his choices, and for that, he is glad.

when it's time for jimin to leave the nest for college, he curls up in bed and refuses to leave, tears clinging to his eyes as seokjin tries to soothe him. it's only for a few years, jimin-ah. seokjin's voice curls around him like a warm blanket cuddling him, and jimin shakes his head, still shedding tears.

the idea of leaving seokjin - of being without the presence that has accompanied him for so long - has his heart aching and more tears to well up in his eyes, and seokjin sighs, the sound rushing throughout the open doors and windows of the house that is him. do me a favour, jiminie. since i have no hands. jimin peers out of his blanket burrito, up at the ceiling. it's a habit he can't seem to break, looking at the ceiling when he talks to seokjin.

"what is it?" jimin's voice is raw from crying, and he grabs tissues from his bedside table to blow his nose. go out to the backyard for a little bit. jimin unwraps himself from his blanket burrito and pads out of the house, doing as seokjin says. seokjin leads him to a corner of the house, where the structure has experienced wear and tear the most.

there, a corner of the cement is loose from the storms and heavy winds and other various natural phenomena, and jimin pries it from the structure under seokjin's instructions. when he plops back down on his bed, cupping the piece in his hands, he gets the shock of his life when seokjin's voice comes from the lone piece of cement instead of from all around him like he's used to.

he nearly drops it in shock, and gasps. "seokjin-hyung! what just happened?" oh, that worked. i wasn't sure if it would. seokjin's voice is back, echoing from all around him. "what did you do?" jimin asks, turning the piece of cement in his hands over and over. that is also a part of me, jimin-ah. i can speak from anything that comes from my structure. now you can bring me with you when you go off to college, so don't cry anymore, okay?

seokjin's words make jimin tear up again, and he hugs the piece of cement to his chest. "thank you, seokjin-hyung. thank you so much," he says in between sobs, and seokjin would have hugged him, if he would. as it is, he projects his voice from the piece of him that jimin is clutching to his chest, hoping to simulate a sense of closeness. thank you, jiminie. for being so willing to have me as a part of the next chapter of your life. and you know you don't have to call me hyung, right?

jimin shakes his head, calming down slightly and laughing at the familiar complaint. "you're older than me, and that makes you my hyung, so i'll call you seokjin-hyung if I want to." seokjin's sigh is a familiar response to his explanation, and jimin's laugh fills the air, seokjin's own unique laughter joining in.

⌂ taehyung | yoongi ⌂

jimin sets down the last of the boxes full of things he brought from home, looking around. the floor his room is on contain single rooms only, and jimin thanks seokjin quietly for reminding him to apply for his dorm room early.

the small rock of cement is in jimin's pocket, and as jimin takes it out, seokjin replies. it's no problem at all, jimin. jimin goes to reply, but jumps when a deep voice echoes around him. a new friend! oh man, i just can't wait until term starts, things are going to be wild. i wonder when others are going to start moving in?

"...erm, hello?" jimin looks at the ceiling and asks. oh! someone heard me! hello! are you new? what's your major? call me taehyung! or you can call me v, too, because i'm block v on campus! call me anything you want, really. you're like, the second person ever who can hear me; what's your name?

"oh! i'm park jimin, nice to meet you, taehyung! i'm planning to be a dance major with vocal performance and business minors! by the way, this is seokjin-hyung! he's my house back in busan. i hope we can get along over the next few years!" jimin hastily bows and introduces himself.

ooh, another new friend! if you're a house, you're definitely older than me, so hello, seokjin-hyung! the voice is warm and friendly, and sounds so excited. the window swings open to let in the breeze violently, a show of how excited taehyung is to have a person that can finally hear him again.

hello, taehyung. it's very nice to meet you. seokjin's voice is motherly, and jimin giggles, cupping the piece of cement in his hands. oh man, we're going to have so much fun! block v is where the all the exciting things happen! you wouldn't believe some of the things i've seen over the years since i was built!

i think i can, taehyung. seokjin says drily, humming as jimin sits down on his bed and places him on the bed covers next to him. you are a college dorm, after all.

"i can't wait to spend my next few years here with you, taehyung! please treat me well!" jimin beams up at the ceiling, leaning back until he's lying on the bed. i can't wait! we're going to be the best of friends! taehyung's warm baritone voice echoes around him, and jimin just knows that taehyung's words are true.

after a while of chatting, seokjin brings up another topic when there's a lull in the conversation. you should go out and explore, jiminie. you can listen to taehyung tell his outrageous stories over the next few years, yeah? at least go and familiarise yourself with your college campus so you at least know the basic layout of the campus. jimin hums in acknowledgement and sits up obediently, patting his hair back into place from when it had gotten messy from him rolling around when laughing too hard.

"i'll talk to you later, okay, taetae? i'll be back soon!" jimin says brightly as he grabs seokjin's cement, his phone and wallet and opens the door, stepping out of his room. okay! and don't worry about locking the door, i'll do it for you! jimin thanks him brightly as he makes his way down the hall, climbing down the flights of stairs and humming as he steps out of the building with seokjin in his pocket as usual.

he looks left and right, shrugging and turning right on a whim, walking aimlessly. he looks around curiously, taking out his phone and pulling up a campus map that he found on the school website. he follows it vaguely to where the shops are all together, and walks into the cafe that he sees. he is immediately put at ease with the atmosphere of the cafe. it's quiet, and the staff smile at him as he walk in before returning to their duties.

jimin-ah, it's almost dinner, so don't get anything too heavy if you're planning on getting food. seokjin says as jimin walks up to the front to look at the baked goods they have, already knowing what jimin will do even though he can't see anything from where he's stuck in his pocket. who's that? i hear someone. a rough voice suddenly says, and jimin barely suppresses a flinch, not expecting the voice.

i'm seokjin, jimin's house. seokjin's voice says, even as jimin doesn't say anything for fear of looking weird in front of the cashier. he listens to seokjin and orders an iced caramel macchiato, thanking the cashier as he pays, and moves to the other end of the counter to wait for his drink.

...i'm yoongi. are you that pink-haired guy waiting for his drink? yoongi says slowly. jimin thanks the staff as he is handed his drink with a bright smile, and moves to find a seat in a corner where he can speak without getting looked at for being insane.

i'm not him, but i'm with him. seokjin replies, humming as jimin sits down in a corner seat and places seokjin on the table next to his drink after taking a few sips of his coffee. "hello, yoongi-ssi. it's very nice to meet you," jimin says softly after he's sure that no one is looking in his direction.

oh, he can hear us. wow. er, hello. jimin, was it? yoongi says, startled. "park jimin, at your service. i'll be starting here when the year begins, so you'll see me a lot over the next few years! i'll be in your care!" jimin introduces himself quickly, looking out the windows.

yeah, nice to meet you, park jimin. i don't get a lot of listeners around here. yoongi's voice has a drawl to it, like... "why do you have a daegu accent, yoongi-ssi?" jimin asks curiously, tilting his head slightly even as he drinks from his coffee.

most of the things i was built from came from daegu, so i guess that's why... you can call me hyung if you want, jimin. yoongi sounds awkward, clearly not used to having a two-way conversation with someone, and jimin giggles softly. "i will, yoongi-hyung. jinnie-hyung, where do you think i should go next?"

maybe check out the library and the studios? you'll be spending most of your time there in the next few years anyway. jimin nods in acquiescence as he drinks his coffee slowly. what are you studying? yoongi asks, and jimin tells him. oh, a dancer, huh. and a singer too. you'll get along with irene at the counter then. she's the one that made your coffee, and she's a pretty good vocal too. the staff here sing well when there's no one in here to listen. jimin nods, smiling at the awkward way yoongi is delivering this information to him.

he spends some time talking to yoongi and seokjin quietly under the guise of using his phone,  enjoying his coffee. the two buildings get along quite well, jimin finds, and learns that yoongi sounds frighteningly like a grandpa from the way he talks about some of the patrons of the cafe.

when he's finally done with his coffee, he fiddles with his phone until seokjin and yoongi run out of things to talk about for the time being, and stands up to throw his cup away. he whispers a soft 'goodbye' to yoongi as he walks to the door of the cafe, and smiles as it opens just before he's about to push it, making it seem like he pushes the door open even if he actually didn't.

⌂ namjoon | hoseok ⌂

as it turns out, jimin alternates between four locations for most of his time on campus, as seokjin predicted before lessons started. his dorm, the studios, the library and the cafe. namjoon is the name the library gives him when he introduces himself, the voice sounding as awkward as yoongi.

seokjin and namjoon become friends easily, which helps smooth the way for jimin to talk to namjoon. it's kind of intimidating, after all, to talk to a place full of knowledge. the library back in busan was old, and told jimin a lot of nice stories whenever he went in to visit her. namjoon says that he was only built a while back, later than seokjin was built, so he still has a lot to learn.

i like watching all the people read the books on my shelves, because there's so many different types of people. namjoon says once when jimin is there to study. there's those who come in in a hurry, searching for a specific book, and then there are those that stroll in just to find a fiction book to read. there are those who come in to study, like you, and so many others. it's just... fascinating.

jimin nods in understanding. as a dancer, it's easy to observe people's mannerisms, and sometimes to distract himself from getting too stressed he likes to go out to a well-populated area like a park just to people-watch.

he visits the library a lot to study, because taehyung loves distracting him when he's in his dorm room, making it not a viable place for him to focus if he wants to study. he switches between the cafe and library often. to be honest, he prefers the atmosphere studying in the cafe, but jimin can tell seokjin is somewhat smitten with namjoon.

namjoon is also a very good teacher. being a library, he is a literal fountain of information, and somehow always manages to explain the topics jimin doesn't get in a way that allows him to understand it immediately. he is also a multi-linguist, and often shares random tidbits that he hears from the foreign visitors that come by from time to time on campus tours.

jimin often hears philosophical questions from namjoon, like it's his life goal to think through a question every week. existentialism is the topic of the week, and jimin often tunes out seokjin's exasperated voice as he tries to get namjoon to talk about anything else. it's kind of futile, really. everything somehow manages to link back to the topic of the week, and seokjin occasionally just huffs and gives up, instead choosing to amuse namjoon and just listen.

when jimin isn't with namjoon, he's with hoseok. the dance studios are like a second home to him, and jimin immediately felt welcome when he walked into the dance studios and heard hoseok greeting every single person that walked in, regardless of whether they could hear him or not.

he immediately tries to find an empty studio (of which there is plenty of, since school hadn't started when jimin had first met hoseok) so that he could introduce himself. "hello! i'm park jimin, starting here when school starts, and i'm a dance major!" he says brightly when he does find one, locking the door behind him and dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor, smiling up at the ceiling.

he takes seokjin's rock out of his pocket and places it next to him habitually, and waits patiently for a reply. oh, you're talking to me! hello! i'm hoseok! it's nice to meet you, jimin! hoseok's voice is bright, and jimin can just feel his mood pick up the more he speaks. you're a dance major, so i'll be seeing you around a lot, yeah?

"yeap!" jimin nods enthusiastically. dance is his one true love, and it's more likely than not that hoseok will be seeing jimin the most out of all the buildings. seokjin voices this out, and jimin laughs, because it's true. oh, you have a friend! who's speaking? hoseok asks.

jimin gestures to seokjin's rock, and explains quickly that seokjin is jimin's house, and accompanied jimin to college by allowing him to bring a part of him all the way from busan. hello, hoseok. it's nice to meet you. please take care of jimin well in the upcoming years. seokjin's voice is warm, and hoseok's voice becomes even brighter.

i will! i take care of all the dancers that step into this building. regardless of whether they can hear me or not! hoseok says, and seokjin hums in approval. i'll be relying on you to get jiminie here out of the building if he ever skips his meals to practice. i couldn't tell this to the studios in busan, but i can with you. please remind him to eat! seokjin says, and jimin gasps in betrayal.

"seokjin-hyung!" he whines, but doesn't say anything, because it's true. jimin has a tendency to forget about eating and sleeping when he wants to make sure his performance is perfect, and seokjin always scolds him when he comes back late after practice. a perfectionist, huh? well that won't fly with me. don't worry, seokjin-hyung. i'll watch out for him.

hoseok keeps to his promise over the next few years, often cutting the music when it gets too late and he hasn't eaten in hours. he has also, on one memorable occasion, locked all the doors to the studios and refused to let jimin in, ignoring all the soft begging that jimin tried under his breath, because you have an injured ankle, park jimin. if you think i'm letting you in with that ankle of yours you'd better think twice. a good dancer knows when to rest.

despite hoseok's tendency to mother him, when hoseok can tell that jimin is driven to succeed, that's when hoseok stops having fun and starts being serious, telling jimin when he's doing things wrong in class and advising him on how to do better.

he is the one that encourages jimin to try something else other than contemporary dance and ballet, because while jimin is seriously good at those genres, hoseok wants to see his dancers try out different styles, instead of just sticking to one style throughout their years in his studios.

jimin is glad that he decided to listen to hoseok, because trying out different styles allowed him to incorporate a lot of different moves when he's trying to choreograph his own dance to a song, and hoseok gives really good advice on what moves suit a certain type of song, and what doesn't.

⌂ jeongguk ⌂

he's two years into his university education, and it's only the second day that jimin has been back in seoul after returning to busan for the holidays. he has barely settled into his dorm room when taehyung is yelling for him to get out again, and he groans. "what is it, taetae? are you on fire anywhere?"

no i'm not, but i need you to go somewhere immediately! i have someone i want you to meet! it's amazing! taehyung sounds unbelievably excited, even more excited than when jackson and bambam threw someone out the window from the second floor. jimin had nearly had a heart attack, if he hadn't noticed the mattress waiting on the ground floor.

"okay okay, i'm coming!" jimin steps out of the room again. what's going on, taehyungie? seokjin asks, curious as well. you'll see! i'm so excited for them to meet! taehyung says. the dorm building directs jimin to the stairs, making him climb up another two floors. he knocks on the door that taehyung guides him to hesitantly, and the door opens after a few seconds.

"woah," jimin breathes, taken aback by how handsome the guy looks. he has chestnut brown hair and big brown doe eyes, with a cute nose and a pretty mouth. jiminie, meet jeonggukie. jeonggukie, this is jimin! both of you can hear me, isn't this great? taehyung exclaims, and jeongguk makes a soft sound, pulling jimin in and closing the door behind him.

"you can hear him too? taehyung?" the guy, whose name is apparently jeongguk, asks, and jimin nods slowly. "wow, i thought i was alone with this weird ability to hear the places that i'm hanging out or living in," jeongguk says, and jimin agrees. he thought he had been the only one here too.

"i'm park jimin, and i'm in my third year, majoring in dance and minoring in vocal performance and business," jimin belatedly introduces himself after a bout of staring, the both of them getting distracted with just staring at each other. that jolts jeongguk out of his stupor as well.

"jeon jeongguk, soon-to-be first year. i'm planning to major in dance too," he informs jimin. jiminie, you should bring him around campus to introduce him to everyone. seokjin says, and jeongguk jumps, eyes widening. "who said that?"

"o-oh, er, that was seokjin, my house." jimin takes out seokjin's rock again, and jeongguk gives the rock a look of complete awe as jimin explains how seokjin did it. "you're from busan, yeah?" jimin asks, recognising the accent of his hometown. "are you from busan as well?" jeongguk asks shyly, and jimin nods, garnering a smile from jeongguk.

"i'm glad to see fellow busan people around here more. have you been around the school yet? i can introduce the others to you," jimin offers, and jeongguk nods cutely. "if it's not a bother... taehyung kind of gave me a shock, so i haven't been out and about yet.”

hey, i'll have you know that i'm a great dorm building, okay. block v is the best on campus, everyone says so! taehyung says. "you're not everyone, tae. you know block b won the inter-dorm competition last year," jimin retorts as they leave the room, and the shorter waves for jeongguk to follow him.

"don't bother with locking the door, tae will do it for us," jimin says as he pulls jeongguk away, and seokjin sighs. just because taehyung locks the door for you doesn't mean you should let him do it all the time, jimin. what if he forgets and someone breaks into your room to take your things?

"well, they're welcome to take my notes, i never want to see them again. they can't take my hoodie and sweaters, though," jimin says matter-of-factly, still dragging jeongguk out of the dorm. there's so many people for him to meet, jimin thinks. but first, they'll start with the buildings. he knows they will all love jeongguk when they meet him.

he lets yoongi and jeongguk meet first, and as they're chatting in the corner table that is jimin's favourite haunt, he wonders what would happen if seokjin taught all of them (meaning yoongi, taehyung, hoseok and namjoon) the same thing he did and they all got together to hang out and talk.

he thinks it will be fun.

sequel: with you (i am home)

[italicwatches]

[legacy content] My Hero Academia - Episode 01

I am a bundle of nerves. And not just in the literal “I have so damn many nerve endings in my body right now” sense. …Anyways, let’s try to fight the nerves back with a new show. This is another one where I’m playing to the crowd, to build up for doing something that’s really just for me. So it’s My Hero Academia time! Here’s what I know: Superheroes. People like it a lot. The manga’s of the next gen now that the Big Three are a thing of an age ago. Let’s see how it turns out, in My Hero Academia, episode 01! Here we GO!

-I…Okay, Hulu has literally decided it no longer wants to work on my tablet. It worked literally perfectly the last time I watched something on it. …Okay. Funimation app it is.

-We begin, with…Oh my god did you seriously just start the ads over because I switched to Japanese audio. Oh my god this is awful. Oh my god this is the worst. How long is their free trial, again?

-Okay, we’re back. We begin, with a young boy, defending a crying friend. And he’s terrified…But he’s willing to fight…Okay. Okay the fucking captions aren’t lining up. I can’t WORK LIKE THIS.

-Got Hulu working. Little baby protagonist, scared. HEY THE SUBS WORK RIGHT. He’s gonna fight! But the bullies have superpowers! Stretchy parts, and wings, and fire, and our hero kid Deku…Does not. So he gets the shit kicked out of him, because at the age of four, he learned that all men are not created equal…

-But he made a fuckin’ choice. He could’ve let himself remain lesser, or he could pull himself up, and claw up every scrap he could from this world. And as we come into the now, Deku, real name Izuku Midoriya, is a spry, athletic youth who doesn’t shy away from the conflicts of supers, from engaging his fan-boyish joy in these broad displays…

-Opening! No subs, of course. Will that be fixed? Look, I’m just hoping I can actually watch the show.

-And we get some history. It began in China. A baby was born that gave off a constant source of light…And then, all around the world, others were born with powers, extraordinary abilities. Some of them from birth, some finding them in puberty…The supernatural, the extraordinary, became ordinary. 80% of the population now has some kind of power, some unique thing. It’s a place of chaos, but as in all times, one can look for the helpers. The good souls, the warriors of justice…

-The superheroes.

-And as the huge villain that Deku’s watching kicks an entire electrical line and its tower down, another man races in, catching it! The hero Death Arms, with overwhelming physical strength, holds the entire structure upright…As a water controller, Backdraft, quickly creates a safety line! It seems this crook’s a glorified bag snatcher, but lost control and went monstrous. And that’s when fangirl favorite Kamui leaps in for the actual restraint, as Deku gets his way up to the front of the safety line to watch…Kamui Woods, the rising star! One of the other guys watching can recognize such an eager fan of the local heroes, as our barked hero is flung back…But he doesn’t even flinch, sprouting branches from his arms, to unleash the PRE-EMPTIVE, BINDING, LACQUERED CHAIN PRISON!

-Except CANYON CANNON! A giantess leaps in from the side, and kicks the monster-man right in the side of the fuckin’ head, making her big hero debut! Mt. Lady is here, ands is nowhere near above showing off her ass to the fanboys and oglers in the audience if it gets her attention. As we see, there’s an explosion in crime, but also an explosion in those who war against that crime. With the efforts to adjust the laws, the police and the system to deal with all of this slow in coming, the people had to take efforts themselves…Until heroes became an accepted standard, a way of life.

-It’s since become an official position, a government job with serious paychecks and some real perks…And Deku, not even noticing the whole fan service angle, is busy jotting down his analysis of her actual combat and her macro power. Which is very impressive, but means she could cause real damage to the city, so she’s probably going to be of limited use and only called in for the biggest threats, unless she can control how big she gets…

-Episode 01! Izuku Midoriya: Origin

-Then it’s to Aldera Junior High, where in class, the question of what to do is a thing. Many students in their future are, of course, intending to be heroes…With Katsuki Bakugo, one smug motherfucker, intending to get up to the top. To not just be some small-town local hero, but to be the big deal. He’s even passed the mock tests, and intends to be even better than the top hero, All Might himself! And he’s going to get there by going to the top school in the nation for supers, the best of the best…

-Oh and our protagonist also wants to go there. Despite his lack of powers. And then people are laughing at him and he’s getting a bit freaked out…And what are you gonna do, man?

-Which is when, at 12:02 PM, a slime monster is fleeing, another bag-snatcher type who took a bunch of cash, and yet all the local heroes are filling out paperwork back at the office…When one man chooses to bulk up, and step in to get involved…

-Commercial break!

-And we are back! The school day is over, and our humble protagonist is ready to head home…When Katsuki steals his notebook right out of his hand. This is…Right, look, I’m gonna level with you, I’m having a hard time get through these scenes. So you know what, we’re cutting through the detailed analysis. Katsuki is a piece of shit, burns the notebook, I want to see him broken, and the only reason I am willing to push through is because it is necessary.

-And on our protagonist’s way home, we cut to young Izuku watching an old video as a child…All Might’s debut, a hellish crash scene, the man who dove in and hauled people out by the dozen…Who became a symbol. Not the first hero, but the one who changed the world…Who made people believe in the real might of heroism. In the idea that one could do great things…

-And then, the doctor’s visit. The one where Izuku’s Quirk seems to simply not exist. His mother has powers of physical attraction(as in, she can force objects to come to her hands), and his father can breathe fire…Izuku should have shown one of these, or else something unique…As we see a, well, quirk. A telltale sign. Whatever process started the powers developing, it also rejected a few unnecessary parts of baseline humans…The simplest one to check? An extra joint in your pinky toe. Your average super has a single joint there; Izuku, has two. Like you or I.

-And he went from watching those videos with giddy joy, with desire to save others as the man he so idolized…To watching them in despair, in depression, in the vain and futile hope that something would change…Why the fuck did I commit to this. Why, the fuck, did I do this to myself. As young Izuku’s mother fell into sobs, at the despair of her boy…

-And back in the now, Izuku tries to fire himself up, tries to hold on, as he cuts through a tunnel. He made a fucking choice. He chose to keep pushing forward. There’s only one way to show a guy like Katsuki, and it’s to prove him wrong the hard way…!

-But as he passes through…The slime creature rises up, choosing to try and take him over and use his body as a shell with which to escape! Izuku struggles, fighting, trying to save himself, as the thing drowns him in its own muck…His notebook falls, and he sees childhood designs of his own theoretical costume…Will this be his last sight…?!

-No. Because All Might has chased this thing down right here. He dodges a vicious whipping blow from the slime, and unleashes, a single blow…The TEXAS SMASH, whose mere hellish pressure slams through the slime’s entire body, knocking it to pieces and freeing our young hero! He falls to the ground, losing consciousness, but alive…

-And when Izuku comes back to…It’s with fuckin’ All Might himself staring over him, trying to make sure he’s okay! All Might, who apologizes to the young man for getting caught up in things, but there’s nothing to fear! And he’s caught the slime creature safely, by emptying some soda bottles and putting the thing-that-was-once-a-man in them! Hahahahaha!

-And Izuku freaks out a little bit, okay a lot, and oh god think he needs an autograph okay notebook��ALL MIGHT ALREADY SIGNED IT FOR HIM HOLY SHIIIIIT

-So All Might has to get going…And good luck and good day, young man! But as he prepares to get going, Izuku is caught up, still feeling like he needs to ask something…When All Might realizes, a bit belatedly as he leaps into the sky, that this young fan is still clinging to his leg. Well this is a problem. But okay! You have questions, then just hold on tight, he’ll make a safe landing somewhere better…And then All Might has to hold back a cough. One that’s…a bit bloody…

-So the duo end up landing on a rooftop, where Izuku is barely able to stand, but he made it. And now All Might has to really get going…But Izuku, Izuku, who’s idolized this man for his entire life, who…Who feels so inadequate before his hero…Who…Can’t get the questions, the yearning, the overwhelming desire for a single scrap of encouragement, past his lips…

-Until finally, he has to squeeze his eyes shut, has to clench his fists, and beg to know. Can a man without a Quirk, become a great hero? Could a nobody like him, hope to be someone like you, All Might?!

-And that gets the hero to stop. To look back, and really see young Izuku for the first time. Not as just another fan, or a bystander in a battle…But a young man who truly needs a hero…

-Credits!

Well, that had some heavy, tough moments, to be sure. But we’re through the first episode, and now things will hopefully change. Not least, I’m hoping one of these fucking apps actually works correctly. Seriously, how is it so hard to do subbed anime correctly…

Ahem. Anyways, look forward to more content next time, in episode TWO of My Hero Academia! Wait for it!

[leearosa]

DAY 105

i miss the freedom. when i’m in nj, i’m caged and shut down. i don’t even know how i came to be like that. it’s just like somewhere along the way while living in nj for about 18 years, i became small and chained down. then the summer of 2016 happened. i went to a place where i could be myself. isn’t that crazy?! for so long i’ve been living as someone else but it wasn’t me.. and then after 18 freaking years i was set free by being sent into one specific place far away and i tasted the joy of freedom. just the thought of how f***n crazy that is… how the change from one state to another could be so drastic. how during that summer i started to see glimpses of my true self. for the first time in my life… isn’t that ridiculous? in georgia, i wasn’t some stupid laughing stock that just played it off because i was “cool with it”. yes, like always, most ppl in georgia did make fun of me a lot. but it was different. it wasn’t condescending. it wasn’t mockery. it wasn’t disrespect. it wasn’t anything that held me down or scarred me. i was made fun of because they said i was “easy to get along with and someone special that stood out.” i was someone “whose presence brought joy to the whole group”. i was someone who “attracted people that are often closed off and cold hearted”. that’s who God made me to be… but God, why am i living in a place where there’s none of that? in a place where i want to cut off all connection. in a place where my eyes have a hard time seeing hope. what’s Your reason? i guess it makes the true freedom that much more special. God, i’m sure You have many other reasons.. but i’m stuck. i went back to school after the summer refreshed and free and i thought i could pour out onto others. i thought it was possible. i tried to seek You through it all. but God, i’m left bitter and angry again. there’s a truth in my heart that i don’t like to say out loud. it sounds immature, selfish and narrow-minded. and i probably am, but you already know my heart and honestly i can’t help what i feel. so.. yeah. i hate this place i’m in. i don’t know if it’s the north or i don’t know if it’s my school. or i don’t know if it’s my specific friend group and community. but i really don’t know if i care anymore. just like sodom and gomorrah was destroyed, i just want it to end and i want to walk away. i’m sick of all the pharisees blabbering. i’m sick of all the stupid distractions. just shut up and get over your damn selves. i’m sick of finding myself becoming like them. i catch myself becoming like them and i start to hate myself. God, show me… do you have bigger plans that my ignorance can’t see? show me your plans.. if you are going to destroy the place, tell me to drop it and leave… or tell me to do what you want me to do and tell me that i can leave soon. the past year, i’ve been trying to see this in a positive light, but this is way too extreme. the story of sodom and gomorrah keeps showing up in my QTs and p.e. first mentioned it a year ago. i doubted it thinking that it was a bit extreme, but i’m starting to really believe it’s over in this place. i hope not but God, whatever the truth is, reveal it to me so that i may follow Your word.

anyways, my point is that i’m suppressed and i can’t do anything. i have a lot of joy that i want to share, but i can’t because that joy is gone again. i have a lot of ideas to grow as brothers and sisters, but i can’t because i can’t really find people that are on board. i want to grow and become more like Christ, but i can’t because my anger and bitterness keeps growing. i want to fix my eyes on God, but i can’t because i’m fearful and i can’t move. my vision is blurred and my ignorance is expanding.

i remember when i was in georgia, one of the first things people constantly kept saying to me was “it’s so weird how well you fit in with us. it’s as if you were always here.” i took it with a grain of salt. they’re probably being nice and it’s probably just because this place is very open and unified. then God started to show me that’s not exactly what they meant. after i was new to the church/community, a few other new people came, and it wasn’t the same as when i came. i started to see the gift God planted in me. the gift of unifying people and bringing rich joy and laughter. i thought the church was pretty unified already, but it turns out that wasn’t what i was seeing. the people around me really let me know that i unified people that have never really talked before. the few “colder” people in the community would show interest (not in that way lol) in me when they usually don’t open up to anyone. JS?! i didn’t even know he was distant from the church/community until people told me because he was so nice and friendly to me. even to this day, he reaches out to me here and there. he freaking gave me a birthday present. he drove me multiple times to the airport… he’s not one to do that.. apparently.

also p.dan told me before i left that he usually doesn’t like it when people stay over his place for long periods of time, but he said for me it’s okay. he said he’s gonna miss me and that i’m always welcome to come back.. he even sternly and 100% seriously tried to convince me to move in GA. he said that i have a gift of making people happy and comfortable. he said that he thinks i’m a person that would be liked by most people anywhere i go. and a few times he told me that he usually doesn’t troll or joke around with people, but for some reason when he sees me, he just wants to make fun of me and joke…. wow i was so touched by everything he said because i especially know he doesn’t just say things for the hell of it.. you know what, i’ve accepted the fact that wherever i go, literally almost everyone will make fun of me. it’s totally fine in georgia. i’m honestly so glad people can laugh and feel comfortable around me. like, thank the Lord that people become UNIFIED through that. but in nj it’s a ffffin problem to the community and to me. i think everyone fails to realize that yeah i don’t really get offended at one or two jokes. like i’m originally not a sensitive person, but when you walk around and everyone jokes about you like you’re a stupid kid with no feelings, it ruins you. i have a hard time remembering that my existence is not a joke. when everyone treats you a certain way, it’s hard not to believe it.

there’s p.e., who really values me and loves me and takes care of me so much and i really see that. p.dan, someone who usually doesn’t, has said so many genuine and nice things to me. hansol became one of my best friends after a few months of meeting each other. she freaking pursued me. she actually thought i was cool and tried hard to become my friend. who would’ve thought anyone would pursue me. i made so many good memories with 2 of my loving unnis carol and cindy. they opened up about really vulnerable stuff that only their best friends know about.. what?? that requires a lot of trust. cindy threw me a birthday surprise and got me gifts. life group got me more gifts. they actually got me a curry shirt because i was fanning during the 2016 finals. literally everyone bought me food at least once. who does that? who buys so many things for someone cold and closed off.. someone they just met a month ago..? when i was leaving GA, i got so many goodbye gifts… ??? who does that?!? i’m still good friends with d ahn. he teaches me a lot about nba. we keep in touch a lot. picked me up from the airport. bought me food. and so much more…. so many oppas that are nice to me. so many unnis that i really really look up to.

even though i was so cold to everyone at first, they welcomed me and loved on me. God’s grace… my goodness… nobody can ever understand the uncommon amount of love i received… like i was sooo loved like never before..

when i first started to grasp this concept of everything people were saying to me, i felt uncomfortable, i’m not used to hearing such good news and compliments. but in the midst of the burden of awkwardly accepting the love, i started to heal and i started to understand and find my identity.

i don’t think i’ll really share this in front of other people because it just comes off weird. sounds like bragging and it must sound weird. rather than blowing up pride, i think just remembering the impact of my presence in GA strengthens me and reminds me that God worked through me and that i am not useless.

my last sunday in GA, i was brought up to be prayed for. aight i hate crying in front of people, but that day, i was sobbing in front of like a hundred people. i was so embarrassed and ugly. i miss them so much.. everyone.. even the people i barely talked to. i miss them so much it’s not funny…. but here i am, back to stone-hearted anna…

sigh. well anyways, this post is definitely unorganized and messy because there’s way too much that’s just running through my mind, but the reason i’m even writing this is because i’m starting to become numb and forget. i want to fight to remember the miracles you’ve given me, God. there is always hope. thank You so much for georgia.. my heart is heavy. heal me Lord. renew my mind. humble me.