#who do you want me do be—ernest hemingway

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Becoming an Intelligent Woman

My Dears,

There is no greater goal than being a fine woman who is intelligent, kind, and elegant. As much as we all want to be described with these adjectives, it takes a great amount of discipline to get there. It is very doable only if you are ready to put in the work.

Here are steps you can add to your routine in the next 4 weeks that will make you 1% more intelligent than you were before. This is a process that should become a habit not a goal. It is long term, however, I want you to devote just 4 weeks into doing these steps first and recognize the changes that follow.

Watch documentaries: This is the easiest step, we all have access to Youtube. Youtube has a great number of content on art, history, technology, food, science etc that will increase your knowledge and pique your curiosity. I really did not know much about world history especially from the perspective of World war 1 & 2, the roaring 20s, Age of Enlightenment, Jazz era, monarchies etc but with several channels dedicated to breaking down history into easily digestible forms. I have in the last 4 weeks immersed myself into these documentaries. Here are a few I watched:

The fall of monarchies

The Entire History of United Kingdom

The Eight Ages of Greece

World War 1

World War 2

The Roaring '20s

The Cuisine of the Enlightenment

2. Read Classics: I recommend starting with short classics so that you do not get easily discouraged. Try to make reading easy and interesting especially if you struggle with finishing a book. Why classics? You see, if you never went to an exclusive private school in Europe or America with well crafted syllabus that emphasized philosophy, history, art, and literary classics, you might want to know what is felt like and for me this was a strong reason. Asides that, there is so much wisdom and knowledge available in these books. In these books, you gain insights to the authors mind, the historical context of the era, the ingenuity of the author, the hidden messages, and the cultural impact of these books. Most importantly, you develop your personal philosophy from the stories and lessons you have accumulated from the lives of the characters in the books you read. Here are classics to get you started:

Animal Farm by George Orwell

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald

Candide by Voltaire

Paradise lost by John Milton

3. Study the lives of people who inspire you: I dedicate one month to each person that fascinates me. I read their biography (date of birth, background, death, influences, work, style, education, personal life) For this month, I decided to study Frank Lloyd Wright because I was fascinated by the Guggenheim Museum in New York. I began to read about his influence in American Architecture (Organic architecture, Prairie School, Usonian style), his tumultuous personal life, his difficult relationship with his mentor (Louis Sullivan), his most iconic works etc. By the end of the year I would have learned the ins and outs of people I am inspired by through books and documentaries. Here are other people I plan to learn more about:

Winston Churchill

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

Ada Lovelace

Benjamin Franklin

Helen Keller

John Nash

Isabella Stewart Gardner

Caroline Herrera

Ernest Hemingway

Catherine the Great

Ann Lowe

My dears, I hope you enjoyed this read. I cannot wait to write more on my journey to becoming a fine woman. I urge you to do this for four weeks and see what changes you notice. Make sure to write as well, it is important to document your progress.

Cheers to a very prosperous 2024!

[coffeebeanwriting]

15 Writing Tips from Authors

1) “You take people, you put them on a journey, you give them peril, you find out who they really are.” - Joss Whedon

2) “First, find out what your hero wants, then just follow them.” - Ray Bradbury 

Coffee bean’s analysis: Letting your characters lead the story can result in an authentic, character-driven story, full of real conflicts and natural emotion.

3) “Turn up for work. Discipline allows creative freedom. No discipline equals no freedom.” - Jeanette Winterson

4) “Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too.” - Isabel Allende 

Coffee bean’s analysis: In order to write or eventually share your story with the world, you have to sit down and do the work, even if your brain is empty. Once you show up, the creativity has a chance to spark.

5) “All bad writers are in love with the epic.” - Ernest Hemingway

6) "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." - Leonardo Da Vinci

Coffee bean’s analysis: Being able to turn a complex idea into simple words is harder than one might think— but can elevate your writing. Not everything needs to be epic or overly flowery.

7) “Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life.” - Anne Lamott

8) “I went for years not finishing anything. Because, of course, when you finish something you can be judged.” - Erica Jong

9) “Don’t write at first for anyone but yourself.” - T.S Eliot

Coffee bean’s analysis: Perfectionism will kill any chance you have at having fun and finishing your novel. Let go of that pressure of being perfect and do not worry about being judged. Write for you.

10) “Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.” -Henry Miller

Coffee bean’s analysis: Don’t overwhelm your schedule with trying to write a ton of projects at once. Focus your energy into one (or two) at a time.

11) "A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it." - Edgar Allen Poe

12) “Every sentence must do one of two things— reveal character or advance the action." - Kurt Vonnegut

Coffee bean’s analysis: Even if you’re writing a novel, this advice is brilliant. Whether it’s a sentence, paragraph or whole chapter... make sure they are meant to be in your story. Keep your scenes tidy and thematic, building towards something.

13) “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” - Anton Chekhov

Coffee bean’s analysis: When writing a novel, give your reader details so that they can picture the scene in their head. Don’t do too much telling (though it has it’s places).

14) “It is perfectly okay to write garbage— as long as you edit brilliantly.” - C.J Cherry

15) “If it sounds like writing … rewrite it.” - Elmore Leonard

Coffee bean’s analysis: Allow yourself to write messily and worry about editing later. Once in the editing phase, if your writing sounds stiff, rewrite it so that it sounds natural.

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting  

[sufferingsokkatash]

THAT famous zukka hug in the atla north and south comic : an essay you did not need, by me.

i was thinking about how, in writing, there should be no accidents or coincidences in how and why something is described, or the detail the writer chooses to use. for example, zuko tapping his hand on his desk would be used to show that he is impatient or anxious about something.

so THEN i decided to apply this to the zukka hug, because why not be delulu about these things idk.

first of all, here are the zukka hug pages for context:

disclaimer: i don’t really know how the fandom feels about the comics. personally i like them, so i will proceed with that bias in mind. also please take this with the humour that is intended, it’s more fun that way.

i go down a sabre tooth moose lion hole below the cut.

this whole scene to me is largely what we all love about atla - humour and good characterisation combined with serious subject matter. king kuei and bosco are the comic relief and oblivious party in the face of quite a complicated issue, as zuko himself acknowledges. this humour then extends to kuei offering zuko the chance to join in on his hug with bosco, which zuko politely refuses. obviously, there is the clear issue of zuko being afraid of being eaten by a bear, but we’ll pretend that ernest hemingway is grading our papers here, okay.

it is a very deliberate writing choice and contrast to have zuko refuse hugs from one person/animal and then immediately and happily accept one from sokka. (see also: sokka running excitedly with a big grin on his face at the bottom of page 17 to greet them, naming zuko first, but remembering that he is a good ambassador to the swt and using their proper titles despite his excitement. more silliness mixed with seriousness. see also, also: HE RAAAAAN!) zuko may be touch averse and not a huggy person, but screw that when it’s sokka who’s offering the hug.

remember there are no accidents in good writing. kuei happily says: hello friends! to which, in both that panel and the next, he is clearly ignored. sokka and zuko are so absorbed in hugging each other that sokka neglects his duties in welcoming them both properly. zuko : 2 swt ambassador role: 0. also ignored is the fact that kuei brought his bear, which would normally be subject to some kind of smartass comment from our boomerang boi, even if he knows he’s obsessed with his pet from the ba sing se episodes.

this could be an actual mistake, but sokka ran towards zuko, who was standing in front of kuei. but in the hug panel, sokka is between them. that means kuei walked all the way around them trying to get their attention, and it still didn’t work. sokka, nor zuko, say a further word to kuei. like exactly how much tunnel vision is there in this, my goddddd.

bosco is protecting kuei and sokka is protecting zuko. could be why they mirrored them and their positions in the hug panel, so not a mistake. a swt person says: protecting foreigners, sokka?! but that is exactly what he does by ignoring the protesters and telling zuko not to worry about them. despite wanting to do his duty to everyone sokka puts zuko first, basically, and doesn’t care about what they all think of him. that’s kind of huge for sokka.

yes, hakoda is injured at this time and yes he’s proud of sokka, but surely as chief he would have gone to meet the earth king and firelord? why did the writers go to so much effort making sure that sokka was there to meet zuko and have them hugging take up a third of an entire page when printing and space in the comics is such a consideration? it is clearly important, y’all.

their faces when they see each other. sokka can’t stop grinning and zuko closes his eyes in relief he’s so happy. enough said.

sokka says: thanks so much for coming! like he doesn’t already know zuko would travel the world just to make him happy or help in what’s important to him. have you forgotten boiling rock, sokka? because that dude you’re wrapped around, acting like he’s been starved of you, sure hasn’t.

this comic is all about nations coming together and traditions being upheld and shared. in other words, marry him sokka. it is in your diplomatic interests to do so.

in utterly insane conclusion:

i am always surprised at how much they made the effort in the writing for this one scene. i don’t see the comics as something that tease ships, they aren’t natla. what i do see is two guys who clearly care about each other, almost to the detriment of their roles and responsibilities, and their relationship was worth the effort taken in the writing and artwork to show that. it is super heckin sweet. does this mean i think zukka is canon or could be? no. maybe did i have fun pretending and overanalyzing every detail? yes.

ps in all seriousness, the answer is that this is about my fav boy and how far he has come in his character growth journey - exhibit a from ‘the avatar returns’ episode:

the end, i am getting blocked and going to jail but it’s okay because zukka is my bosco hug.

[halfbloodgf]

Quotes that remind me of Severus Snape

"When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?"

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (Penguin Press, 2019)

"Nobody is coming to save you. Get up."

"Some children are simply born with tragedy in their blood."

"I am so sorry to all the people I hurt while I was hurting."

"All the hardest, coldest people you once meet were once soft as water. And that's the tragedy of living."

"I'm sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel."

— Warsan Shire

"I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it."

— Franz Kafka

"I think you know how to love better than any of us. That's why you find it all so painful."

— Dad, Fleabag, Season 2: Episode 6

"What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from?"

— Courtney Love Prays to Oregon, Clementine von Radics

"You talk like a book."

"He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise."

"I'm restless and harsh and despairing Although I do have love inside ne. I just don't know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my sh, like barbs."

"Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter."

— African Proverb

"You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering."

— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via books-n-quotes)

"l avoid my gaze in the mirror; I have no interest in learning what it feels like to meet my eyes."

— Jayson Greene, excerpted from his memoir Once More We Saw The Stars

"Why are you full of rage? Because you full of grief."

— Anne Carson, Gief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

"The eyes of a soldier."

"If you don't want a sarcastic answer, don't ask a stupid question."

"You can't always be strong, but you can always be beave."

"I have more scars than friends."

"He always had that 'I hate you and everyone in this fucking place' look."

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I have a plan...

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: Y/n plans to escape the camp, but she's not running away alone...

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ killing people/ burning a building/ Y/n being a dystopian main character/ use of Y/n/ kissing/ not following the story line/

Word count: 1.9k

She was a shy person, never talked back, took the punch the Germans gave her, she was the perfect person. Y/n was at the wrong place at the wrong time, one day, she was coming back from the market, but German soldiers stopped her to check her papers, but she forgot them at home. She was accused of being a spy and was thrown into a POW camp. Bucky didn’t understand her, why she wasn’t fighting, why she didn’t say that she wasn’t a spy. If he was in her place, he would’ve tried to run away.

Buck was ordering the soldiers to pull the stump, Y/n was sitting beside them, on the stairs, reading a book. ‘’Y/n, why don’t you come and help’’ one of them spat. She looked at him, said nothing and continued to read her book. ‘’Whatever, you’re useless anyway’’ he mumbled. ‘’Shut up, Crank’’ Buck defended the woman. She was in her own world, Y/n didn’t even hear Buck. As she read the pages of her book, an idea came to her mind, she didn’t want to run away alone, if she escaped, she was bringing everyone with her. She was reading For Whom the Bells Tolls from Ernest Hemingway, the story inspired her to riot against her captors, she was going to burn this place to the ground.

‘’Y/n, you’re more silent than usual, what’s on your mind?’’ Bucky asked the woman, who was looking outside. She looked at him, smiled and blinked. ‘’Do any of you have a lighter?’’ she asks, with a raspy voice. ‘’Why do you need a lighter?’’ Murph asked her. ‘’Stuff’’ she simply replied. ‘’Stuff, what stuff?’’ Bucky asked as he handed her his lighter. ‘’Just be ready, soon, we’ll run away.’’ she announces. Crank starts to laugh, not believing what he was hearing. ‘’Yeah right, and I’m the Queen Elizabeth’’ he laughed. But Y/n wasn’t laughing. ‘’Thank you for the lighter, Bucky’’ she thanked him. After eating, she quickly cleaned the knife before beginning to chop her hair off. She had long hair, something the Germans could identify her with, now, she cut them off, barely recognizable. ‘’Why did you cut your hair off?’’ Buck asked. ‘’I was tired of having them this long’’ she partially lied. It was true, but it was so that the soldiers didn’t recognize her.

‘’What are you planning, Y/n?’’ Bucky whispered. She turned her head to look at the men. Everyone else was asleep, she was awake to think about every last detail of her plan. ‘’Can I trust you?’’ she whispered back. Bucky nodded, getting closer to the woman. ‘’I don’t know when, but I’ll do something that is going to give everyone a chance to escape’’ she said, not wanting to give away her hole plan. Bucky was confused, she seemed truthful, but she was to shy to do anything. ‘’Can I help?’’ he asked. Y/n looks at him, she thought he was going to laugh. ‘’Can you find me flammable liquids, like alcohol or gasoline?’’ she asks. ‘’Why? Planning on making a bonfire?’’ he chuckles. ‘’Kind of, and can you show me how to use a gun?’’ she asked, seriously. ‘’Y/n, what the hell are you planning?’’ he asked, concerned. ‘’You’re going to help me or not?’’ she asked, kind of annoyed that he was asking 300 questions. ‘’Yes, but – ‘’ they got cut off by another voice. ‘’I’m helping too, what’s the plan?’’ Buck asked as he got down from his bunk. ‘’Is there another person that is awake?’’ Y/n asked, no one else responded. ‘’I can’t tell you everything, just can you find something to start a fire and I need to know how to use a gun’’ she repeats.

It has been 2 weeks since they had their talk, Bucky found some alcohol that could be used to start a fire, and Buck showed her how to use a gun. She was ready, so was her plan. Tonight was the night, she warned Buck and Bucky to be ready to run, but the two of them were really confused. It was about 0200 in the night when the boys heard commotions outside.

Y/n entered the supply building, with the alcohol bottle tucked in her vest. She was dressed in black; she took Bucky’s cloths to do so. She saw a pistol on a wooden crate, she took it as she began to pour alcohol all over the room. She heard German soldiers coming, so she hid behind something, with a mirror she found, she looked at them, they weren’t armed, and they were drunk. She had to think, because if she shot them, it would be too loud, and her plan could fail. It was dark in here, there was no lights, so she took a wooden weapon she crafted and planted it in one of the men’s throats, before the other could realize it, Y/n had already killed him. She was officially a killer, but she killed for justice, she had enough. She took the men’s guns and put them in her pocket, after all she could use them. She continued to put the flammable liquid all over the floor. ‘’Oi! What are you doing?’’ one soldier yelled. Shit she’d been caught, luckily, he was alone. She turned around, pointing the gun at him. ‘’Hands in the air’’ she ordered. The men looked afraid, but as he put his hand in the air, he began to yell and ask for help.

The sound of a gun shot echoed around camp; Buck looked at Bucky. ‘’What the hell did she do?’’ they saw soldiers running to the supply building, so they got outside and ran too. They wanted to see what was going on.

She walked outside, guns in her pocket as she looked at the trail of alcohol on the floor, Germans were running towards her, so she lit the lighter and dropped it on the ground. The building automatically caught on fire and a siren was ringing in the camp. She ran towards the fence she told the guys to meet her. They waited for her at the gate, Bucky saw her running towards them. She had blood on her, she was panting, but she had a knife in her hands. ‘’Move’’ she ordered as she cut open the fence.

Run, that’s what her brain was telling her to do. Her, Buck, Bucky, Murph, Crank, Alexender and Richard were running in the filed next to the camp. Y/n was smiling and laughing, even if it was for a minute; she was free. German soldiers were running after her, dogs too. ‘’We’re going to reach a bridge, trust me and jump in the water’’ she panted. ‘’You’re crazy!’’ Alexender said. ‘’Hey, I got you out! Do as I say!’’ she mentally rolled her eyes as they reached the bridge. ‘’C’mon don’t be scared’’ she breathed out. But they all hesitated, that gave time for the Germans to catch up a little bit. They were shooting at them. ‘’You want to get shot or what?’’ she asked them. She didn’t wait for their answers as she jumped in the water. The water was deep enough so she wouldn’t hurt herself. When the guys saw that she jumped, they followed her. ‘’Stick to the side and don’t move’’ she whispered to them. They all got closer to the side of the river, they wanted to wait for the German to see that they drowned.

The sun was rising as they continued to walk in the forest, they didn’t know how far they were from the camp, but they’ve been walking all night. No one had said a thing since the river, only when Y/n asked who the better shooter was to give the 3 guns she grabbed from the supply room. That was the only time they’ve talked. ‘’Okay, we can take a break’’ she announced as she sat on a rock. They catch their breath, looking at each other, laughing in relief. ‘’What the hell did you do?’’ Murph chuckles, looking at the woman. ‘’I made the supply building blow up, killed 3 guys and escaped’’ she sighed, smiling. ‘’So, that was the gun shots we heard?’’ Richard asked. Y/n nodded, wiping off the sweat on her forehead. ‘’I only shot one, the two other I stabbed them with the wood weapon I crafted’’ she explains. ‘’Thank you, Y/n, I can’t say how much I want to kiss you for getting us out’’ Bucky chuckles. They all start to laugh. ‘’Not so useless after all, right Crank?’’ she teased. ‘’Useful as fuck’’ he exhaled, smiling. ‘’C’mon, we have to walk more, we’re going to unoccupied Slovakia, or someplace where we can find American soldiers’’ she explains. ‘’You thought about everything, didn’t you?’’ Bucky smirked. ‘’Told you I had a plan’’ she smiled.

They.ve been walking for 4 days, taking little breaks to rest, hunting animals to eat, but the main goal was reaching American soldiers. As they reached a small village, they heard soldiers talk, they stopped to talk and began to listen to the voice. They caught small sentence, but it was in English. ‘’We did it’’ Buck smiled. They got out, with their hands in the air, to show that they weren’t a threat. ‘’We’re Americans!’’ Buck announced. The soldiers turned around and looked at the group. ‘’Keep your hands in the air!’’ one of them ordered. ‘’Tom, calm down, they look like POW’’ one of his colleagues announced. ‘’Where did you guys come from?’’ Tom asked. ‘’Stalag Luft 3, Poland’’ Y/n explains. ‘’What?’’ the Americans soldiers couldn’t believe it, they traveled that far, it was impressive. ‘’You guys are safe now.’’

Y/n head was leaning against Bucky’s shoulder, they were in the plane ride back to his base. ‘’Where are you going to go?’’ Bucky asked the woman. ‘’I don’t know, I can’t go back home, anyway, there’s nothing left for me there. I’ve been gone for 6 months; my village probably thinks I’m dead’’ she vented. ‘’They’re not going to let me fly again, why don’t you come live with me on the base?’’ he suggested. Y/n lifts her head up and looks at the men. ‘’Is this a twisted way of asking me out?’’ she smiled. Bucky opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Y/n giggled before getting closer to him. ‘’I’ll gladly come and live with you’’ she said, against his lips. He was flustered and red like a tomato. His instincts kicked in as he closed the gap between them and kissed her. She immediately kissed him back as she put a hand behind his neck. ‘’Argh! Get a room!’’ Murph gaged in disgust. Y/n smiled as she pulled away from the kiss. ‘’We will’’ Bucky whispered, only for Y/n to hear. The woman blushed and giggled. They escaped the camp, without any important injuries and now they were tied together for life. Even if they didn’t tell her, each man was grateful for her, she saved their lives. Bucky was going to repay her by spending the rest of his life with her, because he was in love with her. And she was in love with him…

[copperbadge]

[ID: Two photos, each of one side of a bookmark advertising for This Old Book, a bookstore in Grayslake; the ends of the bookmarks have portraits of famous western writers on them. Well, sort of.]

So I got this bookmark when I bought a secondhand cookbook at Litfest, and they were super nice so if you live in Grayslake Illinois do check em out. But I was looking at it and had a pause, because I know these guys:

[ID: Close-ups of three of the images; one shows a portrait of Shakespeare in a wide white collar, one shows Edgar Allan Poe with a raven on his head, and one shows a caricature-style drawing of Mark Twain. The image below is the fourth image, showing a round-faced man with short white hair and a white beard, wearing black.]

So there's Shakespeare, Poe, Twain, check. And I probably should have recognized the fourth guy but I had no clue who he was, so I just thought to myself preeminent playwright, king of emo goth, biting satirical humorist, and silver fox Daddy. Sure, why not.

Before you scroll any further and without googling, make your best guess.

Now, I thought to myself "It's probably Hemingway, he looks rugged and also it feels oddly like those four should come as a set somehow" and a reverse image-search informed me that this is in fact Ernest Hemingway, whose books I have never read, and about whom I know very little except that he once had to take F. Scott Fitzgerald on a tour of a local museum to prove to Fitz that his penis was normal-sized.

So if you guessed Hemingway, you win! If you guessed anyone else, you also win, I want to know who you guessed in comments.

[erospandemos]

I just can't help it

Yandere Chaewon x Reader

Part 1

“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”

― Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women

What you’re about to read is a confession to you. An apology, if you prefer to call it that, as I’ve professed my love to you plenty of times—although it won’t ever be enough—and you’re at the knowledge of every crime I’ve committed since we met. 

My Korean teacher repeatedly reiterated the lack of clarity in my essays and oral exams. I’m not good with words, you see. That’s why I thought that letting you know about the events in my life that shaped me and the feelings that followed me throughout these months would make you understand me better.

I know our conversations weren’t as deep as you probably expected. I’ve tried to explain myself to the best of my abilities and even if it was a mess you seemed to make out that flurry of words and comfort me. Sometimes, I truly thought you understood me more than I did. 

It’s true that we always talked in riddles and puzzles but it made more sense that way. Because our—my—love was pure madness and somehow the riddles explained it better than we ever could. 

The lack of sleep shouldn’t have affected my mind too much, at least in the part that’s in charge of writing. 

If you’re reading this, I hope you understand. Sorry if I’m rambling a lot, and sorry if I will ramble more in the following pages. Right, sorry if I’m apologizing a lot—you told me not to do that. I just can’t help it.

I was tortured since the age of 6 when I started going to elementary school, that’s as far as I can remember. You could also say I was “bullied”, it’s what the adults like to call it, but it’s the same thing. People get defensive, almost offended when I use the other term. “Wow,” was a common reaction, “that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” I didn’t think it was extreme. 

When I so naively asked my teacher the difference between the two words, she chuckled and looked at me as if I asked her what the difference between hot and cold was. Surprise was another clear feeling I could read from her expression. She asked me how I knew those words. I simply said I heard them from outside and she told me to forget them.

That evening, when I came home, I  took the chair from my mother’s desk and put it next to the bookshelf, I climbed it and looked at the books on the top shelf. They were the books she used the least and between them, sitting all dusty and forgotten, was also the dictionary. 

I blew and rubbed the dust away then I looked for the two words. I read the two definitions closely and more than one time but I still didn’t understand. They were the same. 

I didn’t ask my teacher anything else. My teacher was clearly against explaining them to me.

But I was sure, I knew those two words extremely well because I felt them on my skin. 

I wanted to be an idol. I told everyone in my class because I thought it was a normal dream—we all watched idols on TV in the afternoon—and being an astronaut seemed a lot harder. Apparently, it wasn’t. Because I wanted to perform on a stage, I was “pretentious”, “narcissistic”, an “attention-seeker”, and a “whore”. I didn’t know what they meant and thought they were compliments and they etched those words into my skin. 

I later found their definitions in the dictionary and understood what they were saying.

I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to be an idol. Hayoon, a classmate of mine, dreamt of testing for JYP, SM, YG, and all those big companies. She took dance and singing classes, they were both in group and private. She could afford it because her family was very rich. From what I heard in the classroom, she started training when she was just a little girl because her parents saw her dancing in front of the TV during an episode of Inkigayo.

Surprisingly, Hayoon was never shamed. Because she was “humble” and had “her feet on the ground”. She was loved by everyone and was the most favored prospect for the role of an idol, everyone seemed to believe in her dream. She was confident, danced well, and was beautiful. All the girls went to her house at least twice a month to go to her huge pool, splendid garden, and majestic house. I never went, I was never invited.

She was good at everything and topped all subjects. However, I sang better than her. In music classes and festivals, I was always chosen and often took the roles instead of her. When she realized she wasn’t the best, she became embarrassed and frustrated. 

She didn’t have any way of making me sing worse and neither could sing better than me, even after all those expensive lessons, so she took to poking fun at me to try and drag me down. Of course her friends joined as well. They were always calling me "ugly", "weird", and "gross" in a way that didn’t seem childish or playful, but demeaning and insulting.

The other kids constantly berated me between classes, glued my books to the desk, slapped me and then ran away. They knew all the spots where there was no CCTV in the school. They even stole my brand-new headphones and glued my shoestrings to my shoes when I didn’t see them. We wore slippers and my shoes were in my locker.

My teachers never helped me. I’ve tried telling them and they didn’t believe me, or rather, they chose not to believe me because that was easier for them.

Only a girl had the courage to help me, it only took one word and two days to have everyone against her. “Stop,” she only said that and then everyone hated her. You never go against the group, you never try to make yourself different, you never try to fight back. 

In the end, I understood the difference between torture and bullying: one was for hurting and one was for fun.

During middle school, the bullying stepped up a notch. Some of my classmates went to my same middle school, they had many friends there and the rumors spread like wildfire. Many of the students liked to take their stress out by bullying other students. They were pathetic and talentless, they hated anyone who had potential unless they provided them anything, like Hayoon.

Smoking was illegal. But they didn’t care. They found all the corners of the school where the CCTV didn’t see them and studied where the professors usually walked to avoid their path. It wasn’t always perfect and sometimes they were caught but it sure helped them and the bullies.

One day, I was dragged by my hair behind the basketball court and after getting pushed to the ground, the girls started slapping, laughing, and kicking me. The smoke from their cigarettes and the kicks to my belly and back took the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die. They were experienced—they noticed my lack of breath, gave me breaks to catch it, and started kicking me again.

They were caught by a teacher who forgot his bag. They claimed they were only giving me “birthday punches” and didn’t admit anything, nor apologized. They weren’t stupid either. The girls had a very good reputation and a good student persona, essentially they didn’t have any criminal records. 

When I was asked what happened, I was ready to tell them all the atrocities that took place in school. But then, I remembered the girls’ eyes. I looked at the professor and I knew, right there and then, that he didn’t believe me, even before I said anything. They wouldn’t have done anything but the word would have been out, that I snitched on the bullies and then I wouldn’t have survived.

So I stayed silent.

The girls only got punished for smoking after they explained they only wanted to try and continued to do it anyway.

Between the end of middle school and the start of high school, the bullies got more creative. They tied me up and broke my legs with a crowbar. The older the girls got, the more of them wanted to be idols, and the first thing they had to do was to get rid of the competition. They succeeded as I stopped dancing altogether since that day.

I continued singing but nobody wants to see an idol in a wheelchair, right?

After I couldn’t walk normally anymore, they started treating me like a rag. They used me to clean the bathroom, by pushing me around on the floor, putting my face against the toilet, and mopping me with dirty water. I was like a toy to them and their friends joined the fun.

Part 2

It was no wonder that many bullied students leave the school. Sometimes, they leave on their own, because they can’t stand the torture anymore, other times, the school removes them. The bullies only bully others because they can and they know they can get away with it: they have influential parents or come from wealthy families, so the school can only quietly get rid of the problem and those are the victims that can’t stay quiet.

The class in my department didn’t have many students but it was enough: 20 students. During the year, 5 students left, and at the end of the year, 2 others were sent to another school in the province. The remaining 13 weren’t enough to be left alone in the classroom so they joined us with a class from another department that also lost many students. In total, we were 31, which was a big number but they didn’t have any other choice.

You were one of those students. I only noticed you after a week because I got used to keeping my eyes low not to anger any of my classmates. You sat beside me. People usually tend to avoid me since they could also become victims of the bullies but you knew it and it was your decision.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked me. When I heard your voice, I had a moment of hesitation. I kept staring at the wooden desk but then I thought that you might have accused me of being rude for ignoring you and that would have been a good enough reason to pick on me, so I raised my eyes.

“No, it isn’t,” I replied. Your eyes were cold. I genuinely thought you were a bully too.

“Then, can I seat here?”

“You can if you want…” I told you, unsure. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? You fart a lot?”

I was taken aback. “No! I don’t.”

“I suppose it’s fine then,” you said and took the chair out to take your desk. You started getting ready for the lesson and didn’t seem to have any intention of doing anything to me. Every time someone spoke to me, it was to make a comment, make a joke, or give me an order. Still, I was suspicious of you.

The lesson proceeded as usual. You took your notes very diligently, writing almost everything the teacher said, making graphs and small summaries to keep your memory fresh. If you were to tell me you were the top student in your class, I would have believed it and later I’d find out you really were.

Your behavior wasn’t the one of a bully. And it wasn’t the behavior of a bullied either.

At the end of the last lesson before the lunch break, the teacher gave us surveys for our future career choices. I stared at the paper with a pen in my hand. What should I write? My future, my future was stolen from me. My dream was as meaningful as an ant’s life. After everything they did and said to me, a miserable life of insignificance and sadness sounded perfectly fit for me. I kept wondering and pondering until you turned to me.

“What do you want to do when you grow up, Chaewon?” you asked me while you were lazily spinning your pen between your fingers.

“I- I don’t know, what about you?” I stuttered. I couldn’t bring myself up to pronounce those words. I felt as if I had been banished from even muttering them and thinking about it only brought me horrible memories.

“Web security,” you said. “I go around and check companies’ safety in their servers and sites. I’ve already started an internship so I’m sure it’s what I’m going to do.”

“An internship? This early?”

“Yeah, I figured the more experience I get, the better. I got nothing better to do anyways.”

“Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you hang out with your… friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends, to be honest,” you replied nonchalantly. “I mean, I do go out like once every three months so it isn’t a lot but I still have friends I can talk to. I’ve never been good with people, I guess.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“I was always better on my own. I tried a lot of stuff and I liked web stuff better,” then you turned to me for a second time, looking at me more intensely than before, “but you didn’t answer my question yet. What do you wanna do?”

Being put on the spot like that, I wasn’t sure about what I was allowed to say. More than that, I didn’t know what I really wanted, if the dust of my once desire was still in me if my heart wasn’t dead cold. However, after all these years, a subtle string of fate kept me going and it was still something that I liked doing.

I looked at your eyes. They didn’t scare me.

“I want to be… an idol,” I said in a single breath. After I finished the sentence, a heavy feeling of guilt dawned on me. I felt as if I just committed a crime and I was in danger.

But you didn’t judge me.

“An idol, huh?” You laid back on your chair. “That’s pretty cool. I know it’s very hard if you really want to do it, props to you. It takes some guts to train for that stuff. To dance all day, to have everyone look at you, it’s something.”

“Do- do you think I can do it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I don’t know how well you dance, or how good you sing, or even what you tested for.”

“But is it a possible dream?”

“You can watch idols too, right? They had the same dream as you did. They did it. I think it’s possible, yeah. And I think you can do it, Chaewon.”

When you said that, I felt so relieved. It was comforting. Finally, I found someone that didn’t hate me, that didn’t shame and believed in me.

Just as you stopped talking, the bell rang. It was the time.

“Oh, look at her, ms. Idol,” said Yejun and pushed my head away for fun. He started laughing.

“Hands off, Yejun. And go away before I sock you in the face,” you said.

“I’m so scared, oh my god,” he laughed. “What do you think you’ll do huh? Do you want to protect this filthy rag? How generous,” he said and then slapped me.

“That’s enough, fuckface,” you got up and stared into his eyes. “That’s the last warning. Leave before I do something I might regret.”

He scoffed. “Really, you talk a lot. Don’t forget that you work for my father.”

“I don’t think you get it, Yejun. I don’t just work for your father. He depends on me. One click and his whole 20 servers will blow up. Do you really think that incompetent fool of your father fixed all the problems? He doesn’t know shit about his stuff, he only knows how to count money and scam his workers. There are so many weaknesses I could just hack the whole thing and change your company to my name.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. Now, that I’ve seen who this rag of yours is, tell your friends to keep their hands off her. I don’t want to see your father come back and beg at me and he’ll know it was all your fault. Everyone listens to you apparently, so spread the word. I won’t hesitate.”

Yejun stormed out of the class in anger.

I felt like I was reborn, that I finally found my savior. You were the angel I needed and you came to save me from this hell.

“I don’t like this place, let’s get out of here,” you said and I followed you.

We went to grab lunch but right behind the vending machines you got attacked. He called you a nerd, whatever he did, but I couldn’t stand it. I felt a force in me and I grabbed his neck, I squeezed until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

I’ll be honest, if it wasn’t for you trying to get me off, I would have killed him.

Just as that guy run off, you freaked out. I didn’t blame you. Still, you took my arm and pulled me to somewhere more covered to talk to me, scared that someone else might have seen it. I could see the surprise in your eyes, but you didn’t look terrified, you were concerned if anything.

Your hand was still bleeding, the red liquid dripped to the floor. I stared at the droplets, slowly coloring the grey concrete, as if it was the ticking of a clock. At each tick, I was getting more impatient, there was something inside me that wanted to jump out, run after who hurt you, and make him pay for it. But I had to calm down, you were in front of me.

“Chaewon, what the hell!” you whisper-shouted while repeatedly glancing behind your back and into the hallway. “Where did that come from?”

“I-I don’t know what happened,” I stuttered. I was saying the truth—at the time, I truly didn’t know why I reacted in the way I did. I never raised my hands, I never talked back, I never reacted.

“Shit, I’m bleeding a lot,” you cursed. You gritted your teeth and started walking towards the school clinic. I followed you.

You talked to me as we were walking. “You don’t just choke people randomly, you know?”

“I- I really swear! I pro-promise… I have no idea what happened!”

“Listen, Chaewon, I saw you pinning his neck against the wall. You raised a senior with one hand.”

When we were in front of the nurse's office, you pinched your nose and waved your hand to stop me from talking. The cuff of your white shirt was stained with red, it already spread so much in just a short time. You must have been in pain. My blood was boiling.

“You can explain yourself later,” you said and opened the door. “I have to close this wound first.”

I followed you into the room. For some reason, the room was empty, there was no trace of the nurse and it looked like she hasn’t been there for a long time as everything was very tidy and the coat hanger was empty. Often, when people can avoid work, they’ll do it. The nurse must have seen that there was no one needing her in the morning and decided to leave for some coffee.

You sat on one of the beds, keeping your arm stretched out so the blood wouldn’t stain the sheets and with another hand, you searched into the cabinet for something you could help yourself with. You took out bandaids, alcohol, gauze and cotton buds. You really made a mess, trying to pour the alcohol on your arm and spilling half of the content on the floor.

After sloppily cleaning yourself with cotton, you got the bandaids.

“Do you really think bandaids will do?” I asked you. “It’s way too deep.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Yeah, we have to put stitches on you.” I took the chairs from the desk and sat in front of you. In the cabinet beside the bed, there were also needles and thread for that procedure. Luckily there was an anesthetic as well.

I put on gloves. I cleaned your wound again, better than you did before, and applied the anesthetic gel. It took about two minutes to take effect, in the meanwhile I prepared the rest of the equipment I needed: forceps, curved needle, and new thread.

When I was sure you didn’t feel anything, I started stitching your wound.

“How did you learn this?” you asked me so curiously.

“I… I got used to taking care of myself,” I said softly. It was embarrassing. You nodded. I could feel your eyes scan me, looking at all my bruises, the bandaids on my face, and many more wounds underneath my shirt.

You sighed. “I’m sorry. I hope they won’t attack you anymore. Always stay with me, they are scared of people who have a known name.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think it will do anything.”

“Just do as I say,” you repeated. I could see how sure you were from your face. You definitely didn’t see, as my face was facing the floor, but I smiled for the first time after you said that. Your desire of protecting me was honest. I was really happy that you cared for me.

When I came home, I had the time to think through what happened that day. As I was drinking a cup of water, I looked at myself in the reflection of the window, my fingers tracing my wounds and bruises, itching the dried blood on my nails. Where did that strength come from? I could have sworn they had taken every ounce of energy from me, I knew I had no will, no ambition, no desire to even talk back until today. And yet, I hurt him.

I felt good. It didn’t feel good to hurt him per se but to know I defended you. As to him, I should have killed him. But you stopped me. You shouldn’t have done that. He hurt you. That shabby gross fool tried to hurt you, how could he?!

I was so lucky to have caught you before it was late. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened to you if he succeeded—the bruises on your face, the blood on your face—you would have looked just like me. No, I couldn’t stand that. You didn’t deserve to go through the pain that I did, not after you defended me. Oh, if only I could lay my hand on those sinners, the pain I could inflict them, all the experiences that I felt inside my skin, into my very flesh.

I want to hear them scream. To beg for forgiveness. To regret their very existence. I want them to apologize to you, to offer their life…

Crack

I looked down at my hands. What a mess. I completely shattered the cup I was holding—bits of sharp glass everywhere, even some into my skin. The veins of my hand were bulging, I could feel the blood in my body flowing so fast and forcefully. The adrenaline was high in my brain.

I didn’t realize what I did until I heard the sudden noise.

It was true, just as you said. It wasn’t me. But why? This must have happened because I was thinking of you getting hurt… yes, it was your thought, just you. It was because of you. I didn’t want to see you hurt, you were my only hope in this world, just the thought sent a shock through my spine and into my head, and I would go crazy.

You made me like this.

Completely insane.

“Chaewon! What happened?” I heard Yujin calling me and I turned around to see her rushing out the hallway. Yujin was my roommate, we shared the rent because it was cheaper that way. She wasn’t a bad person, not at all. But she couldn’t understand my life, she lived between rich girls and handsome guys.

To be kind, you need to know what misery is. She was just nice.

“Oh, Kirin-chan,” I said.

“How did you break your glass?” she asked worryingly, grabbing a towel to clean my bloody hand of the bits of glass.

“My bad, I was standing up and it just slipped out of my hand.”

“Then how did it get all over your palm?”

“I slipped and fell right onto it, you know how clumsy I am.”

“Yeah,” she commented without much belief, “just like all the time you come home with bruises on your face.”

“It isn’t my fault if they don’t put warnings after cleaning the stairs.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she repeated. “Anyways, don’t forget to clean it up, I’ll go back to studying,” she ended, turning around and leaving the lounge to return to her prettier room.

I continued to stare at my hand.

I couldn’t help but think about you again… my head got foggy… my thoughts haunting…

What if they scarred you?

What if they bullied you?

What if girls broke your heart?

What if you were friends with the wrong people?

I knew I was crossing a line when those questions took form but it was too late and I didn’t even care anymore. It was a promise I made myself, to protect who I loved, and I swore I wouldn’t fail again. I would protect you forever, no matter what.

I feared that you’d run away from me but instead, we got way closer than before. When I walked into school the day after the incident, I was genuinely scared I wouldn’t have seen you—that you had stayed at home, that you changed class or even school. What worried me the most was the fact that you could have been scared of me.

I waited for you anxiously. I kept scratching my nails, rubbing my arms, looking around for you. So many times I got up and walked around the paths outside the school where I thought you’d usually walk, even if I didn’t know well what were your habits, and not finding you, I’d sit back at the wall and wait again.

After several minutes, you arrived at school. At the sight of you, my dizziness and worries faded away. I immediately ran at you and hugged you so tight, you had to know how much I missed you.

You were surprised, of course, you were. “Huh? What has gotten into you Chaewon?” you laughed jokingly.

“I just thought you wouldn’t come to school anymore,” I told you.

“Why would I do that? Today is a school day.”

“It’s okay, that’s perfect. I’m just so glad I can see you again.”

Part 3

The door opened to the locker room and I and the other trainees entered sitting down. They changed their clothes from casual streetwear to old clothes and gym wear. I’ve been training for a bit now, I got to know all the trainees well, there were a lot before but now they only remained half. The one that finished first started stretching. "It's one minute and a half. Let's do this," she sighed.

One of them threw to the other a white sheet with a name written on it and did the same with the others. "Here. Your name tags."

"That's it? Just a minute?" the girl chuckled.

"A minute and a half. Everyone does their part and it's a difficult choreography, don't you forget. It will be enough."

"It's for evaluation. Don't forget every detail counts," another girl added.

We went out of the room and made our way toward the practice room, each one with a name tag on it. The corridor leading to it was cold, probably because they just changed from thick to thin clothes, but it got hotter towards the end where the air got denser. One at a time, they entered bowing at the line of men sitting on the right of the mirror in front of the door.

Everyone had papers and a pen and a serious look plastered on their faces. After a couple of stretches, the girls got into position and the music started. They smiled and danced with their full capability and the judges looked sharp. When the music stopped they held their ending pose and went in a line waiting for their words. The air suddenly felt cold.

"There had been improvements on what we said the first time. But we can also fix others," the first said and the men nodded. They wrote on the paper and scribbled.

"You. When the others did their move you were coordinated and that's fine but you did it wrong. You need to raise your hand higher," he said making the move himself and the girl followed.

"Can you do the move a bit before the ending?" another one asked, gesturing his intention. "Yes, that one. Please get into the position and do it."

They did and when it came to the next section he spoke again, "One more time."

"Once more."

"Five...six.. seven... eight... an-"

"Okay," he said and got up walking to the center of the room. He demonstrated the move more and more times. "Don't tense your muscles too much when you do this alright?"

"But," the oldest got up, "you were all a lot better today, good job. Specially Soojin and Gaeul."

"That's it, goodbye," they said.

"Thank you!" the girls answered together.

BLAM. The oldest almost slips as he got out and the others held him up. The girls let out a muffled laugh, their mouths covered with their hands."See girls, don't tense your muscles too much or they won't work properly," the man chuckled. The judges left fast, embarrassed by their eldest and the group laughed in relief.

"Are we really doing this? They are not saying anything anymore."

The youngest looked at them from the ground, laid down breathing hard, and said, "We're close to debuting."

When everyone was done with their stuff and cleaned themselves they left. Almost all of them ran out to catch the last bus of the day or were just in a hurry. I, on the other hand, had to walk home so I did everything slower. When I got out, in the distance, I heard a group of girls around my age shouting and laughing. When they got closer, I realized they were my classmates, there were about four of them and they were drunk.

They noticed me.

"Look at you. It's late, pretty girls like you shouldn't stay out," one of them said and I frowned.

"Don't tell me. You were practicing?" she said laughing. The other three got in a semi-circle in front of me.

"It's a really difficult life isn't it, miss idol? Everybody wants you and you're here dancing until late," she mocked me, with her fingers under her eyes faking tears, and let out a hearty laugh. The choir followed with a carol of joy.

"It's sad really," she continued, "so popular but so tired."

She pushed me down on the ground and the group stepped back making more space for the two. She forcefully pulled my hair, forcing me to get up. The girl got closer and said, "And you're so pretty. It would be a shame if anything happened to this pretty face."

She slapped me. They laughed. They kicked me. I tried to defend myself, curling into a fetus position and protecting my head. They snickered as they continued wasting the effects of the alcohol on me. When they were finally satisfied, they got up and left me there on the side of the road and went away to the opposite way of where they came from.

I remained on the ground with tears on her face and sobbed trying not to make any noise, I wanted silence. However I heard their voices again, from the distance, and they were screaming.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the same girl as before squealed."We're girls, you think you can-." The group gasped.

"You're five and I'm one and you just beat that girl up. You think I care?" It was a male voice.

The girls ran away but the guy didn't try to chase them and walked to me.

"There's a convenience store nearby, we can get something cold for your face," he said with a soft tone. I recognized the voice and looked at him, I recognized his face too. It was you. My legs trembled a little as I held myself upon your shoulder for support. "It's fine, take your time," you said dusting my back.

At the shop, you bought a bag of frozen peas so I could put it on my face where it still hurts. "I ate those for dinner, they're great. I can use them for everything, look, you're using them too now," you said and I laughed. I calmed down a little and your face got more serious and worried.

"I told you. Starting from tomorrow I'll bring you home," you said.

"But it was only this time," I said.

"And the other four before."

"Kind of."

"Being there by 11:30 should be good."

"But you should sleep."

"I would just be studying, and either way, it's way better to have your company," you insisted, leaning down on the chair. A small smile formed on my face. Ever since that day, the two always walked home late at night even when it was freezing or when it was raining. We got way closer.

You grew up so well. Unfortunately, many girls seemed to notice you and fall for you. I don’t blame them, you were very charming, so attractive for such a young student but I couldn’t let them near you. They were fools, too stupid to realize they were nowhere close to your level, you were levels above and they were just insects. I had to make sure no one bothered you, to avoid you crying because some worthless bitch broke your heart.

I was surprised when you told me you got asked out. But then I felt my chest burn.

There’s only one thing that I can’t stand in this world and that’s people who think they can take what’s mine. I don’t care about gossip, jealousy or envy, I don’t have anyone to compete with, I just want what’s mine. And you are mine.

It was so easy to scare them away. All it took was a quick talk behind the school, a very convincing speech, a cutter to their throats…

They were scared of me. Good. You didn’t suspect anything—they’d still smile at me as if nothing happened, I made sure to tell them. I couldn’t let you know, to worry more than you already were.

The bullying had completely stopped towards me because you were always by my side defending me and eventually they all got the message. If you were just a crush before, now I love you. If I loved you, now I worship you. You’re my religion, my god, my purpose. I’ll kill for you, live for you, and I’ll love you forever. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Whether that’s heaven, hell, or any other world. My very existence is embroidered into your name, I can’t exist without you.

Things were going great, so great. You only had eyes for me. Those two beautiful pupils could only look at me, at my face, at my body, only at me. I loved when you stared at me, I was yours after all, you could watch how much you wanted.

That was until those two eyes became one. You got a big bruise on your left eye, it was swollen, black, and horrible.

You were waiting for me near the big tree behind the school like you always did, and you talked to me like you always did, without worry or pain. “Hey, Chaewon,” you greeted me.

“What happened?!”

“Nothing, I just hurt myself,” you lied. How naive you were, you were too kind, too nice. I didn’t believe you one single bit. I wonder why you did that? Why did you lie to me? Was it to protect whoever did that to you? To protect who hurt you?

“Tell me. Tell me, who hurt you?” I asked you calmly.

“It’s really nothing Chae… I’m serious, I only hurt myself—”

“TELL ME WHO THE HELL HURT YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!” I asked again, the sudden increase in volume startled you and you backed away into the tree. I didn’t know at the time, and you’d tell me later, but my eyes were empty. You got scared, I apologize, I just couldn’t help it.

“Ch-Chaewon?” you stuttered.

When I realized you were terrified, I calmed down. “Huh? Oh, my bad, sorry… I was just really worried, but now, please tell me.” I shook my head and took a couple of steps back.

“Okay, I will tell you… it was Seojun,” you finally confessed. “I bumped into him and spilled his drink on his uniform. I apologized, but since I was alone and his ‘friends’ were with him, they thought they could get their revenge on me.”

“I see… let’s get you some ice for that eye for now,” I told you and we started to walk into the infirmary for the second time. I hated walking into that place, especially with you. I tried my best to hold it inside me, not to scare you again, but I was going to snap anytime soon.

“Chae, are you alright?” you asked me.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear… and it will okay from now on. You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.”

You know, people say that the first time is special, you never forget it. The first time I bathed my hands in the warm liquid that is human blood, my body was cold. I felt hesitation at first, but I knew I was doing it for you, and thinking about you, all that fear was gone. And I killed him.

Yes, it was me that killed Seojun. I don’t regret one bit what I’ve done to him. I made sure he suffered as much as he made you suffer. An eye for an eye, as they say.

That day was special, it was like I confessed to you and instead of a ring, I gave you a life. It was only fair you’d give me your life in return.

The murder of Seojun made headlines in the news and when asked about it, the students never said anything nor praised or acted sad at his death. No one missed him. It’s quite sad that life can be so insignificant that not a single person will care about how gruesome your death was and forget you the next day. To be quite honest, he deserved it. We die in the same way we live.

You were a bit suspicious of me at first. You didn’t really doubt me—you were curious. The news of his death was delivered by our professor during the first period with a sigh before continuing the lesson. The reactions were mixed but mostly towards one extreme: relief.

When a bad person dies, two things will happen: if you’re a good person or a victim, you will be happy; if you’re equally bad then you’ll be scared, because you know he already got what he deserved and nothing prevented you from having the same fate as nothing is stronger than luck.

You were both worried and glad. I’ve always noticed how you tend to care about other people, it’s something that I really love about you, you just have to direct toward the people who deserve it. “Hey, Chae, do you know anything about Seojun’s murder?” you asked me during the break. You were hesitant at first but I was sure you’ve thought about it long enough to decide to spill it.

You must have thought about what I said the other day: You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.

“Huh?” I raised my eyebrow at you. “Why would I have anything to do with his death?”

“W-well… you see… you said that I didn’t have to worry about him anymore and the next day… he dies.” Your shoulders were so tight almost as if you were trying to keep the words inside of you. Your gaze flitted around the room, never settling on one person or object for long.

“It must have been a coincidence,” I told you. “And karma.”

“Right,” you muttered. Then you relaxed your shoulders.

“By the way,” I changed the topic, “there is going to be the last test before the debut at Hybe.”

Your eyes changed completely, they brightened. Every time I talked about my dream, you always seemed too excited for me. You fully believed in my ambition and constantly encouraged me to keep trying. Whenever I practiced, I always thought of you.

I always think of you.

“That’s awesome, Chae. It’s your opportunity, you wanted to become an idol all this time.”

“I will start practicing right away then,” I said. “I want to be with you that day. Can you come with me?”

“What day will it be?”

“Next Saturday, 4:00 pm.”

“Next Saturday… 4:00 pm,” you repeated. “I’ll make sure to be there—I will be there, I will.”

“Thank you,” I smiled and hugged you. You were still a bit against the idea of hugging but slowly you were getting used to it. I trusted that you’ll eventually come to love it.

I had prepared about four songs for the test: two for my singing and two for my dancing, one of them was good for both. I decided to be very broad with my songs because if they asked for more, I’d be prepared. You never know. I didn’t want to go there and have them ask for a random song and fail horribly.

You were waiting for me in front of the building with a little bag of snacks. I mentioned all of them before to you and you remembered. Some of them were for when I’d finish the whole thing and some as a snack to calm my nerves.

Honestly, I felt like you were my boyfriend already. If anyone saw us together, they’d say the same thing. Every little thing you did was so full of attention, I knew you cared for me, and I loved you so much.

Anyways, the time came. I bid you goodbye and entered.

The test went terribly wrong.

You waited two hours for me, only for me to blow it all up. When I came out, I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want you to see me at all.

“So Chae, how was it?” you asked but I didn’t reply. It was hard to come up with any word at all. I couldn’t even look at you in the eyes.

“Chae?”

“Chaewon?”

You finally got enough at the third time and you grabbed my shoulder to shake and direct my gaze at you. “Chaewon, answer me please!” you said with an upset tone.

“Do you… do you think I’m a failure?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked back.

“Hey, am I a failure? Tell me. Were the guys right? I am not meant to be an idol after all, should I give up after all? Tell me, please!” I hiccuped and cried. I was truly heartbroken. It was the test per se but the fact that I disappointed you, that I wasted all your determination and belief you had in me.

“Chaewon, no…” you whispered and went for a hug. It was awkward, you didn’t know how to hug. You tried to put a hand on my shoulder and one on my hip, but it didn’t work. Then you tried to put both of them on my shoulder but you looked like you wanted to headbut me. On the third try, you succeeded and properly hugged me very tightly.

I buried my head into your chest, it was where I could really feel safe.

“Chaewon, what happened in there? How did it go?”

“I FAILED! I BLEW IT ALL UP! IT’S ALL GONE!” I yelled and gripped you harder.

“How is that possible? You’re perfect, I mean, you sing so beautifully and you’re beautiful,” you said. “You’ve been practicing… why? How?”

“I’m sorry it’s that I was so worried. I got distracted. I continued to ask myself if I’d fail and so on… I knew the lyrics but I got jittery and…”

“No, Chaewon! I told you to believe in yourself. You can do it. You can do it.”

“But—”

“You have talent, Chae,” you repeated, “and I’ve seen it since day one. You will not fail. You just have to try again.”

I was embarrassed to see if I could try again but you weren’t and you stormed inside the building, dragging me by arm to ask the staff if I could try again. You explained everything and even pleaded with them until they gave in.

This time, you were waiting for me outside the door. I knew I wouldn’t fail again.

Don’t think about anything else. Focus.

I sang the first song. Just like I practiced. Then I danced. It was perfect.

I passed. I was so happy and I just had to tell you. I ran outside but you weren’t there.

I searched everywhere until I understood you weren’t in the building and had to search for you outside. I found you in an alley, bloody and bruised.

I immediately called the ambulance and they rushed you to the hospital. Your condition was so bad they had to x-ray your whole body and do a small surgery.

When I found you, you could barely talk or even breathe. You were laying in a pool of blood, that came from the numerous cuts all over your body—they weren’t clean but all rough and jacked, meaning they came from brute force and not blades. Your clothes were also messed up and ripped. Together, I could count on 19 injuries at least. I couldn’t understand at all. Why would someone do that to you? And how did it happen?

Together with you was a bag with two drinks and a couple of sandwiches. I suppose you went outside to a convenience store to buy something, maybe for me, and then… you were attacked. This may have been premeditated, it’s impossible a group of people randomly hurt you that bad.

I couldn’t stop crying, you know?

To see you in those conditions, I could only think of the worse.

What if you’d never wake up again?

What if you’d be miserable for the rest of your life?

What if you died?

It was my fault. I’m sorry, it was totally my fault. It was because I took way too long in the test, chatting with the staff, seeing the other girls so happily, while you were being jumped… I could have protected you, we could have gone home together and this would have never happened.

The doctor called me. “Kim Chaewon?”

“Yes?” I raised my eyes. I saw him and wiped my tears before standing up and walking to him.

“Is he okay…?” I asked.

“He’s not in danger is what I can tell you. Some of his bones are broken and he has received a concussion, he may be asleep for a while, you see,” he said.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, you can,” the doctor agreed, “this way…”

He guided me toward another floor of the hospital. You have been transferred from the emergency room to the patient’s rooms. You were in the section where more care was needed—the hallway was quieter, everyone walked slower, and everything was more gentle.

I entered your room slowly, holding myself up with a hand on the door frame and then I saw you. Your eyes were closed. Your whole body was covered in bandages and you were hooked to all sorts of machines with cables and cords everywhere. It was almost like seeing a puppet tied up in strings and they were keeping you alive.

I was scared to come close to you. I feared that any of my movements could have damaged you even more. You were so fragile at that moment.

I gently lowered myself to the chair next to your bed and held your hand. I cried. I cried again, so much. I couldn’t help but keep thinking it was my fault. If only I was quicker…

Some of your items were put in the drawer. I noticed your phone together with your wallet and backpack. The screen was cracked and some of the blood crusted into the cracks. I don’t know why I felt curious but I unlocked the screen—you trusted me enough to let me know your password months ago to check some messages while you were busy cooking—and it opened KakaoTalk. You were texting me and the phone memorized it.

Chae be careful the bullies might be after you

Don’t go in the shortcut at the

Oh, dear. You were on the brink of death and all you could think was to warn me, to protect me. You didn’t even think of calling for help. I understood everything. It was those bullies again… they didn’t forget, did they? It’s because their life turned to hell after they didn’t have anyone to bully anymore and they got revenge but attacking you.

I was angry. I was furious. I was so pissed that I unconsciously cracked your phone even more. It was that feeling again, all over—the fire in my chest.

I will kill them. Each one of the. I will make them suffer. I will tear them to shreds. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them.

I will make them pay for everything they have done for you.

They were so stupid. It was so easy to trick them: I attacked their leader when he was coming home late and forced him to send a message to everyone who was involved in your attack—he confessed right away when I showed him my knife.

The guys came on point the next day. It was all so easy. They always hung out at the abandoned warehouse where they could make all the mess they wanted and dragged their victims to torture them properly and in private. Now they were dragging themselves to their death.

I dressed in black that day. You never liked seeing me in black. People used to tell me I tried to stand out too much so they forced me to use torn, old, ugly clothes, but when they stopped tormenting me, you brought me to buy more clothes for me.

But that day I wasn’t dressing as the victim. I was in the guise of the Grim Reaper.

I prepared my knives, axes, clamps, nails, and staplers and waited for them in the building.

Humans are so easy to kill. They are so frail and mortal—I had to be extremely careful not to let them die immediately to cause them all the pain they deserved. I’ll spare you the details. You don’t have to know of the gruesome parts of their murder. I’ll just tell you everything they did to you and in their years of bullying, I did to them. From crowbars to knives, to fire and stabbing.

When the last one stopped screaming, I felt at peace. The silence was absolute. I couldn’t even hear the wind, the cars, or the noises of the city. It was completely quiet.

I finally avenged you.

Part 4

Disposing of the bodies was quite simple but extremely tiring. I had to chop their bodies to bits, bury them and hide all the evidence. I cleaned with bleach all my weapons, the floor, and the walls of the warehouse. I had to soil the floor since it was dirty before and I couldn’t leave a clean patch in there, it would have been a dead giveaway.

Of course, I had to get rid of all their phones. I broke them into little pieces before grinding them up to a bag of dust and flushing them down the toilet.

I got most of my weapons from around the city. I stole the knives from the school kitchen and returned them to them. I did the crime on a Friday night and finished in the evening of Saturday so they wouldn’t have noticed the disappearance of their tools. I bought the rest of the tools from a hardware store so I could have just put it in someone else’s garage.

I couldn’t burn my clothes or rags because that would have caught the attention of my neighbors or anyone nearby so I colored it with all sorts of paints so the blood would have been unrecognizable. If anyone analyzed them, it would look like they were of an artist. And then I disposed of them.

Burying the bodies was the most laborious part and I could only do it during the night. It took me both Saturday and sunday to get rid of all the evidence.

The next days were all marked by nightmares. I didn’t dream of what I did. What haunted me was you leaving me. I was afraid that my crime could have separated us.

Chaewon, you’re a monster.

I can’t be friends with a murderer.

I can’t love a killer.

I hate you.

I wish you died.

I was distressed and jittery during the day and couldn’t sleep at night. Many times I would get distracted in those thoughts, imagining all the things you could say to me, and not realize people calling me. I would often zone out and not hear anything else.

“Chaewon? Are you okay?” my classmates would tell me. I would snap out of my daze and realize most of them were looking at me then I’d realize I actually chipped a corner of the table off with my grip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” I could only say. They would continue with the day forgetting about it or just tell their friends excitedly about a classmate with a freakish strength.

It was especially hard when I was training with the other trainees but I told myself you wouldn’t be proud of me if I wasn’t doing my best and forced myself to dance.

On Monday, their disappearance was announced but nobody could find anything. Not a single trace. The secret was safe with me.

They also announced your attack but they didn’t connect the two events together, assuming you were also a victim. The attacks in this Korea were common anyways. Bullying was so widespread you could say it was part of our culture.

After a week. you were still asleep. The doctor concluded that they must have stomped your head too for you to be concussed that badly. They damaged the nerves.

Unfortunately, I knew only after I killed them. If I knew I would have done the same to them so they could feel the pain you felt but I guess cutting their limbs counts as nerve damage as well.

I was getting extremely impatient waiting for your awakening. The doctor couldn’t help me but it wasn’t their fault. I’ve only realized now how much I relied on you and those days without you were as sad as Halloween without candies.

When I woke up, I couldn’t tell if the Sun rose already or if it was still sunrise, it was timid, and the light cast a somber hue in the room. It was gray and pale. The soundscape was eerily quiet, the usual chirping birds seemed to have disappeared, as if even nature was mourning alongside me.

Walking through the corridors of the school, I felt like a solitary figure amidst a sea of faces. Conversations echoed around me, yet they seemed distant. The classrooms, usually alive with energy, felt suffocatingly silent.

I couldn’t help but notice how happy the other students went on with their days, completely ignoring what happened to you. Worst of all, some students even mocked you, saying you were a loser and you deserved it. My bloodthirst was beyond the roof. I had to hold myself back a lot not to commit other killings, reminding myself that I could have raised a case of a serial killer if I wasn’t careful enough.

I thought I had been sneaky enough not to raise any suspicion but I didn’t know the only person to find out would have been you.

I was in an alley near the hospital when I met one of those mean girls. They were badmouthing you and I had to make sure they wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t kill them, you don’t have to worry about that. I merely sent a message, a little punishment. I got one nail for each insult they said toward you. Poor them, they won’t have nails for months—I hope it hurts.

They ran away but when I turned around, I saw you. You were looking at me so horrified and disgusted.

“I had my suspicions, Chae…” you said. “The coincidence was too perfect. I woke up and saw the news, I knew it was you. And now, I’m sure.”

“You’re mistaken, dear,” I tried to say foolishly.

“Chae, I saw everything.” Your face morphed into an extreme melancholy, of disappointment and sadness. My face instead contorted into a horrified frown. You… my best and only friend, my love. You discovered my worse secret—I knew what the consequences were and I knew what the risks were.

“I mean, what are you even doing here? Weren’t you still sleeping?”

“I woke up this morning—I got discharged—and the doctor let me take a walk… and then I saw you.”

“Do you know what I did all of this, darling?” I asked, my nerves were so tense and my blood was pumping like crazy. I was getting more and more scared. There was a thread inside me that was being pulled and pulled…

“W-what is it?” you asked with hesitation.

“It’s because… I… I love you.”

I saw the shock on your face but I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I did it. I snapped. You found out and there was no turning back. You didn’t have a choice either.

“W-what? What are you saying?”

“Darling, don’t you get it? I love you so so so so so much. I love you so much—to the point I killed for you. Yes, I did kill them. I murdered them. I slaughtered them. I made them suffer, love, the way they made you suffer… Please! Please understand—I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Chae, you’re scaring me. Stop…”

“Oh, don’t be scared, my love. I would never harm you or kill you… I would only cherish you—in fact, I did all of this to protect you from those bastards! I love you with all of my heart.”

That fire inside of me took over again and this time I was already glued to you, my knee under your thigh, pinning you to the wall, a hand on your cheek and one near your waist. You couldn’t move at all, I wouldn’t let you. I was finally this close to you… your skin was so smooth and soft—just like you, my precious baby.

Maybe I was smiling a bit too much. You’d describe to me later that I looked psychotic, yes, I was crazy.

You didn’t know how to react. I admit, you were so cute—so vulnerable and fragile, just at my mercy. Yet, you dared to take and push my hand away from your face.

“Chae, I’m sorry,” you said and it almost broke my heart, “but I just… I-I- I don’t know…” you said.

“What aren’t you sure about? Is it my love? Is it not clear enough?” I asked. “I’ll do anything for you, just ask me.”

“Please stay away from me,” you replied, “for a while.”

“What are you saying, darling?”

“Chae… you’re my best friend and I understand why you did all of that. I do. But I need to think about it. Don’t worry, I won’t say this to anyone, no one at all, but I need to stay alone for a bit,” you pleaded, “I just recovered too.”

“Okay, fine,” I agreed. You were right. It was a bit too much for you, especially after you just woke up from that concrete hospital bed. Also, I knew I could trust you. You never betrayed me so that did not scare me.

You slowly backed away and left me, alone in the alley.

I don’t know why but I started laughing hysterically.

I thought I messed up a lot. That isn’t the way your lover should look at you, right? Terrified and pleading on the verge of tears. You should have looked at me lovingly. I was so scared you’d leave me and I couldn’t let you do that. I needed you too much.

But then you left me waiting for almost a month. I respected your choice and didn’t contact you at all but it’s been too long. I figured that knowing I killed tormented you so I didn’t touch anyone else but rather I kept it to simply threatening them verbally and that seemed to work.

You have to understand I couldn’t take it anymore. Looking at your pictures every night wasn’t enough. Listening to your voice from the vocal messages wasn’t enough. Smelling the shirts I stole from you wasn’t enough, and the smell was fading away. My imagination wasn’t enough, especially when I knew I could have you and I was just waiting for the right moment.

Then the right moment came. I sent you a message just to let you know, you couldn’t say no. I went right to your house, which I came over to many times already, and even your mother knew me. She let me inside with a smile, she was so kind. I knew where you got that virtue from.

I heard you running frantically around your room. You must have been dressing up, so I waited until you were done, knocked, and opened the door. Your room smelled just like I remembered it, it was so good, it was just you.

“It’s been a while, Chae,” you said, clearly nervous. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing terrible, honey,” I answered honestly and you gulped. “You know, I’ve been good to you. I waited and did nothing else. I did not kill or hurt anyone. I let you have your space, then why did you disappear for an entire month?”

“I kept thinking and reflecting on what happened…”

“For a month?” I was furious. “Did you try to make me forget you? Did you try to forget me?”

“It’s that… It has been a tough month,” you said. “My best friend murdered 6 people, or more… How could I go back to what we were before? You killed… humans.”

“So? They didn’t deserve to live anyways. I did it for you.”

“No, Chae—”

“They beat you up so badly you couldn’t even walk!” I snapped. “They badmouthed you, they laughed at you and… why are you defending them?!”

“Yes, but you took their lives.”

“They were going to take your life too! Don’t you get it?”

“Chae, please—”

“No! Shut up! I can’t take this anymore! I can’t forgive them. They’re always making fun of you, beating you up, torturing you—just because you’re my friend! But you keep shoving it away and get hurt for me… I- I…”

I hugged you. I had to hold onto something and you were the only one that could have helped me stand up. All those years… I was so pent up, I was so tired of it. I know you told me many times to let it be but I can’t. Sorry, I just can’t help it. I can’t let anyone walk away after they hurt you, even if it’s something as little as pinching you, because you mean too much to me.

“Darling, I love you!” I sobbed and pleaded onto your chest, bathed by my tears, “I missed you so much. If I don’t see you even for a day, it starts to hurt, you know? I’ll do anything to stay with you, anything! Just tell me! I want to see you every day, I can’t let you leave like this…”

“If it’s like this,” you started, “we can make a deal.”

“A-a deal? Really?”

“Yes, a deal. You can see me how much you want but absolutely no killing. No physical assault and no insults to anyone.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, you just have to restrain yourself.”

“Very well. Then, I promise, I will never kill again, I swear. Does that mean I can see you every day?” I asked. My tears finally stopped pouring out, the hiccup was still there, but I could focus and talk to you properly now. I took a deep breath and spoke, “Then you have to be my boyfriend from now on.”

“What did you just say?” you asked with confusion.

“You can’t say no. You are my boyfriend now. You know already, I told you so many times. I love you with all of myself.”

I knew you liked me a little already. I wasn’t sure if it was as strong as my love for you was, although I doubt it can, I knew you were interested in me. No one would stick with me for that long and no one would defend me from all those bullies. I knew you loved me, of course you did, you always took care of me since our first day and I couldn’t help but fall for you too.

I tried my best to change my appearance to suit your ideal type more. I dressed better, I dieted, I worked out, and I practiced so much that I wouldn’t disappoint you.

“Chae, are you sure? I’m just a regular guy and you’re an idol…”

“Don’t lie to yourself, honey. I wouldn’t give myself to just anyone. You never laughed about me, you believed in me when nobody else did, and you infected me with your kindness and humanity. You’re the best man I can ask for.”

“Thank you…”

“You’ll be my boyfriend and I’ll be your girlfriend, okay? Do you accept?”

“Uhm…”

“Do you accept?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Ma’am?” I laughed. “Don’t tell me you have some weird fetish going on… It’s okay. Just tell me, I won’t mind, hehe.”

Part 5

You have been very strict with me. The first thing you did was to establish a set of rules and all the punishment that would have resulted in breaking them. You’ve been very clear in defining them and made sure I understood you were very serious about it and would absolutely punish me if I dared to not respect them. They were something along the line of:

NO KILLING. The punishment is an instant break-up.

NO BODY HARM to anyone. The punishment is no contact for two weeks.

NO KIDNAPPING/STALKING/THREATENING other people. The punishment is no skin touching for a week.

RESPECT YOU. We’re together in this relationship and I have to listen to you.

TRUST YOU. You'll leave me if I don’t trust you when you tell me you aren’t cheating.

I accepted them and we started dating. Our relationship was as good as it was before but this time I got to be as clingy as I wanted, hugging you as much as I wanted, holding your hand wherever we went, and most of all you gave me a lot of head pats. You always gave me head pats to congratulate me when I did well in school or had a good performance.

It was difficult to respect those rules and you showed me how convinced you were of them when I broke the hand of a guy who shoved you against the lockers. You really ghosted me for two weeks without saying anything. When they ended I couldn’t help but jump on you and I promised to be more careful. Since then, I didn’t break any other rules and you showed me your love in so many ways, I lost count of them.

We learned a lot about each other and helped each other all the time. You helped me be more confident with my skills and get angry (but you told me I was cute when I got mad). You were always a bit discouraged with your work, giving up easily, and I made sure you knew how great you were. Just like me, school has really made you more insecure about yourself, but when we were together, we achieved a lot more.

Recently I discovered a hidden diary you used to keep under your bed, between the mattress and the frame. The last thing you wrote was months ago, way before the incident, and it was you rambling about me. ABOUT ME! And it was so adorable. “I have the biggest crush on my friend!” You wrote on the last page.

I stared at the words in a daze, it was like the words were screaming in my face. I was used to only obsessing over you and knowing you were going through the same thing warmed my heart.

You know, I’ve never believed in good endings, but with you, I think I finally found one where we are the protagonists. Our story is not like a fairy tale, it’s far from perfect, I am not a princess, nor could ever be one. However, you made me feel like one and I’m more than sure you’re my prince.

Sorry if I am always so obsessive and so imperfect, I just can’t help it.

THE END

Written, 7 June - 27 June 2023

[thatgirlonstage]

I am seeing a bad and annoying take about all books for adults being boring circulating again so here is my plea to 1) remember that adult fiction written by people other than Ernest Hemingway and F Scott Fitzgerald exists, 2) remember that genre fiction exists and is in fact frequently written for adults, and 3) realize it is counterproductive to the goal of encouraging people to read things they enjoy to throw a different set of books under the bus

Anyway whenever people have book takes that make me mad I’ve decided the healthy response is for me to just make a rec list so here’s some books for adults that I don’t think are boring at all.

Superluminal by Vonda McIntyre. I’m going to keep banging this drum forever. Sci-fi future setting with space travel and a lot of themes of body transformation and there’s magic whales and an overwhelming love for the beauty of the universe as it stretches beyond our comprehension.

The Perilous Courts series by Tavia Lark (first book: Prince and Assassin). Six M/M romance novels set in a high fantasy world. Do you like dragons? Magic? Themes of family and loyalty and betrayal and devotion? Just enough fantasy politics to ratchet up the stakes without bogging you down in the nitty gritty? Want some sweet sweet smut scenes as the cherry on top? Check out these books they’re fucking great.

The Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli. A family takes a road trip across the US, the father researching the Apache tribe, the mother looking into the disappearance of her friend’s two immigrant children who have gone missing in federal custody. I will not lie, this book is heavy, but it is also beautifully written and a really gutting exploration of the parallels and connections between historic and current struggles for survival and the atrocities that struggle is often met with.

We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian. 1950s M/M romance. Quieter and slower-paced than the other things on this list but if that’s your jam, this book is incredibly gentle. And I can’t speak for anyone else but my bisexual ass felt INCREDIBLY seen.

The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee (first book: Jade City). What if The Godfather was a wuxia novel.

The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez. A young girl escapes slavery and is rescued by vampires. The book is composed of a series of vignettes of her life as a vampire over the centuries. It’s a really different take on vampire lore than any other book or show I know about and I really can’t recommend it enough especially if you like deconstructions of classic monsters.

[acetone4veins]

Mean Girls + Quotes Part 2

Find part 1 here

More quotes that remind me of mean girls characters and their various relationships :)

Regina

"i became bitter and untouchable. i craved affection but even the mere thought of someone caring made my stomach turn."

unknown

"i have survived everything but i fear that i cannot survive myself."

Cynthia Chapman

"was i raised without love? or was i born unlovable?"

unknown

"am i lonely because no one cares, or am i lonely because i'm not strong enough to let anyone get close enough to care?"

Rob Hill Sr.

"of course i look angry all the time. my entire life i've been fighting a war. i am soaked in pain and sadness. the irony however, is that i'm not actually angry, i'm trying to learn how to be happy. and that in itself is a war."

unknown

Cady

"i thought - i want to go home. i want to be in a place that feels like home. where that was, i did not know."

Katie Kitamura

"i understood myself only after i destroyed myself. and only in the process of fixing myself did i know who i really was."

Sade Andria Zabala

“do you ever wonder where you took a wrong turn? where your life became the exact opposite of what you wanted it to be?”

unknown

"i have always tried to make a home for myself, but i have not felt at home in myself."

Jeanette Winterson

Janis

"of course i'm angry. do you have any idea how many times someone should have helped me?"

unknown

"hurt an artist and you'll see masterpieces of what you've done."

unknown

"i don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though i may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful."

Susan Sontag

Gretchen

"what a sick little head, your love always turns into obsession."

unknown

"i don't think people love me. they love versions of me i have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. the easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love."

unknown

“i only know how to exist when i’m wanted.”

Mary Lambert

"i don't want to beg. i know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. i don't want to beg. but oh god - oh god, please. please. love me. love me."

unknown

"for once i need to choose myself, or else i'm going to lose myself."

Veronika Jensen

Karen

“i believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. i believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. i believe while i tremble; i trust while i weep.”

Charlotte Brontë

Regina and Janis

"longing, how soft a word for such a ravenous feeling. how we hunger in silence."

Pavana

"dig your teeth into me. come on, i dare you. take a bite. open me up; raw and candy floss pink on the inside. make it hurt. i figure, you're going to hurt me one way or another. might as well be with your mouth."

Ashe Vernon

"i don't know what to do without you, i don't know where to put my hands."

unknown

"you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love."

Franz Kafka

"i love you and i always will and i am sorry. what a useless word."

Ernest Hemingway

Regina and Cady

"i love you. i love you unconditionally. i loved you even in my ignorance. i loved you when i didn't even know. i just love you."

unknown

"and on some days, i wish our paths had never crossed because you don't know how heartbreaking it is to know that someone like you exists in this world and i cannot have you."

unknown

“i must have you exclusively, fiercely, possessively.”

Henry Miller

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do."

William C. Hannan

“fuck my pride. fuck everything. i’m so desperately hungry for you.”

Henry Miller

Gretchen and Karen

"the way our fingers intertwine feels so natural and right; as if our hands hold memories of meeting in a thousand other lifetimes."

John Mark Green

"when i think of life, i think of you. when i think of love, i think of you. safe to say that i really like thinking about life with you."

unknown

"come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can't just stand on it."

Dino Ahmetovic

Regina and Gretchen

"i suffer in my loving, and you know it."

Willa Cather

"i loved you to the point of ruin. i loved you until my lungs were filled with ash."

Tina Tran

[queers-gambit]

I wanted to start writing fics and I have an idea of one I’d want to write but I’m unsure of even where to start. Could you please tell me how your process helps you? Any advice would be greatly appreciate!

Thank you!

hey, cutie pie! what a special message you've sent me. i'm feeling incredibly honored - whether you sent this message or not as a compliment, i don't wanna know, this could-be delusion is very flattering. you think i'm a well enough writer to ask advice from? 10 points to Slytherin.

it was Ernest Hemingway who said, “there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

unfortunately, i'm one of those people that says, "just start writing". i know this is like throwing you in the ocean without a life vest, but i hope i can teach you how to swim (or at the least, tread water) by breaking this down enough for yah.

please note i am NOT a professional - so everything below is to be taken with a grain of salt

first - welcome to the author community! where we all think we have to publish Pulitzer prize winning stories - every. single. time! and where we think our work is TRASH - every. single. time!

storytelling is a skill that you don't have to be "born with", but you do have to practice and experiment with. even seasoned writers need palette refreshers and to "return to the story drawing board." to me, writing is universally one of the greatest artistic mediums this world will ever know. stories transcend time; think folklore and mythology that date way way way back Before Christ (BC). stories can (mostly) only be built upon and altered - just look at the Bible! written text, yes, but it's diluted by X number of "translations" through the years, scholars, people, factions, economies.

anyways. i think it's REALLY cool you want to write and i honestly love that for you. i hope it's as beneficial to you as it is me.

best piece of advice i can give? be proud of yourself. confidence really shows through writing; it's not being arrogant or cocky, it's knowing you have a story to tell and being determined to tell it. trust me, that energy translates. when you're happy to write, audiences are happy to read; nobody is ever expecting you (or any fanfic writer) to be Chaucer or Shakespeare or Brontë or Poe or Fitzgerald or Tolstoy or Tolkien or Dickens or Eliot or Morrison, they want YOU to be YOU and to read YOUR story.

so have faith in yourself. have pride. find motivation and inspiration.

🍒 general rules of thumb

🍒 write everything down!

it doesn't matter where - just write! every! thing! down! write in a: -> Word document -> Tumblr draft -> good ol' fashioned pen and paper -> Sharpie and cafe napkin and for my Apple people: -> the notes app or Pages document

🍒 always write out the plot - doesn't matter if it's complete, just write it down! it's a tool, and trust me, when writing, think of it as your ankle being shattered and this written plot document is the crutch. it's extremely important to have a general idea of what your story's plot looks like so you can decide what details should be used to beef up the story's authenticity. this will help visualize the web you need to weave. it's a visual end goal. it's the reminder where your story is going. give yourself enough space to add to this idea, to expand it.

i prefer bullet points. experiment to find what works for you!

so, in a structure similar to educational notes, establish the general premise / main idea / main details. this is where you're going to answer (no, not literally), "why write this story? what's the point? what even IS the story? like, what's the plot?" -> if you ponder why you're writing a story and at any point, the answer is along the lines of being self indulgent, please understand, that is valid! write that shit!

🍒 notes are a safe space to write out ideas you might be interested in revisiting. so label everything because you'll revisit often - whether for the next story idea or not.

🍒 Google ― -> what you know to strengthen literary frame. allow this to include refreshment of writing devices. -> any and all words; keep a list of running adjectives, nouns, dramatic diction to give your story personality. -> definitions - even the words you already know! -> what you don't know! -> synonyms!

🍒 don't pay attention to word counts! 5k word fics are just as valid as 1.3k, even 896 word fics! fuck word counts, just tell the story.

🍒 write and rewrite. this is where writing becomes daunting, it's so fucking scary. but all you're doing is trying to find your voice, so write your drafts, then rewrite - rewrite - rewrite - and for good measure, rewrite, rewrite, aaaaand probably rewrite twice more. just allow yourself room to stretch and grow as an author when new and altered ideas come to mind - and when these new and altered ideas come to mind, write! them! down!

🍒 writing is supposed to be fun! 🍒 writing supports your emotional vulnerability! 🍒 be open to inspiration everywhere! 🍒 give yourself time and be kind! 🍒 encourage changes of thought and new directions! 🍒 don't minimize yourself to conform with what is "thought" to fit certain criteria - take authentic risks!

🍒 nonlinear and chaotic writing process

🍒 so... kinda first thing is done internally:

what's the plot? what was the idea formed in my head, inspiring me to write this story? what's the climax? is this idea able to turn into a story? -> i write it down.

which fandom? does my story idea fit into "canon timelines" or the fandom's setting? more or less, i determine if this is an AU or not. -> i write it down.

declare a muse i think BEST suits my story idea. -> i write it down (call that commitment).

now, i like to beef up the plot / climax details, either after the initial idea or establishment of muses. these are the nonnegotiable "dramatic factors" i think the story needs. -> i write it down.

🍒 then i just start writing the actual draft / structured story. i know, i know, i know! this is the worst advice and lots of authors say it. but it just means to start! it means you can start anywhere. it's your story, you're telling it - so you can literally just start because a story can grow in all directions.

🍒 personally, i use the fuck out of skeleton drafts (see below) because i like to revisit and build, restructure, and let seemingly random ideas take natural form almost every single time i sit down to write (which, for the sake of my mental health, is almost everyday).

🍒 i endeavor for mysterious, captivating, intriguing opening sentences or paragraphs and titles. so i'm constantly editing and Googling words, definitions, synonyms, phrases.

🍒 i draw inspiration from everywhere; sometimes from personal conversation and experiences, other books, quotes from movies and songs.

🍒 i strive for authenticity - i personally think it's what hooks an audience, when they can see even the SMALLEST fraction of themself in the story. so i challenge myself to get criminally vulnerable and open - so a lot of my trauma is processed through writing, too.

🍒 i like to employ common literary devices, such as metaphors, proverbs, iteration, personification. but that's a personal choice.

🍒 i often draft the story and then leave it for a bit to "marinate" because at the most random and often, inopportune, times, i'll have new ideas i want to add. so i leave myself time to revisit which can get frustrating, but it's necessary for my security to publish.

🍒 dialogue is "just conversation with a purpose". when writing dialogue, i often say the words in my head OR (as embarrassing as it might sound) out loud with the chracter's accents and TRY to convey that in my writing. so i use a lot of slang or incomplete sentences or predicates or accents - in the form of dropping the "g" from a lot of "-ing" ending words.

🍒 I DO NOT CONDONE THIS NOR ENCOURAGE THIS! but i'm a fiend and smoke a LOT. and i drink an unhealthy amount of coffee - so that def influences my writing whether i like it or not. this is 1000000% a personal choice and in no way, shape, or form am i encouraging anyone to smoke and / or give themselves kidney stones for the sake of writing.

🍒 i'm decently selective about my stories, in the sense of if i truly cannot connect or find influence to write, i won't. i can't. so i've been doing better about if a plot doesn't flow the way i want, i try not to force it and embrace the new direction. 🍒 HOWEVER - i still like to challenge myself, so, if i find writing has become like pulling teeth, i'll walk away and revisit at another time. i'll try to tackle from a different angle BEFORE giving up completely. yikes.

🍒 being said, walk away when writing feels frustrating and exasperated.

🍒 real life experience is your friend - "write what you know".

🍒 i'm criminally insecure and don't use beta readers nor editors so i rawdog every story and audience reaction. but i hear they're wildly helpful!!! do what feels right!!! it's your art!!!

🍒 skeleton drafts

when in school, teachers, professors, educators might have students structure essays as a "draft". maybe they asked for paragraphs to be organized in a certain way - intro., x3 body paragraphs, conclusion, bibliography - and more specifically, the paragraph structure: opening sentence stating summarized opinion / reason for thesis support, supporting specifics that explain the thesis, and then conclude on a summary of why the listed support supports the thesis.

whatever it is, i don't adhere to some parameters. i've always pissed off my educators because my "working drafts" never made sense, but whatever "final draft" turned in for a grade, did! make it make sense!

so i use "skeleton drafts".

it's where i try to outline the main ideas of my plot to ensure i tell the story i originally thought of. think of these as "plot points", almost like the ribcage of a skeleton. then i add certain supporting details between these ribs; the meat of the story.

i like getting the majority of the story outlined. i use bullet points, i try to use "dividers" or "headers" if i need a time jump, but i want the general idea down so that it's easier to add onto later if i so choose.

so, yeah, i don't "draft" as some American educators might approve of. the actual process is too tedious and i hate it. but that's just me. other authors MIGHT recommend traditional drafting, but i won't. i say do what feels natural to you, but still find a way to rewrite the story you want until it BECOMES the story you want.

"skeleton drafts" establish the plot and pose as major pillars to help propel the story's flow. "skeleton drafts" are like a check list: being the plot points framing the story's structure, as well as details (no matter how small) the story needs.

being said - using skeleton drafts results in a few different draft / note pages in different places so tread carefully. it can get very confusing and annoying, so, it's not for everyone. i'm just chaotic and all my writings are like a tornado.

i hope this helps in even the slightest of ways. thank you for sending your message - again, i'm deeply flattered. i apologize it took so long to respond but i was doubting myself and what to write.

listen, poppet. keep writing. try, try again. challenge yourself. and the VERY best of luck! i hope you fall in love with writing, and in turn, it falls in love with you!

come back anytime! if you so desire, please, send me whatever you write - i'd love to read it!

endless forehead kisses and all my love 🖤

[blackswaneuroparedux]

To be confronted with a blank page is not very nice. But Hemingway, a great American writer, taught me the finest trick when you are doing a long book, which is, he simply said in his own words, “When you are going good, stop writing.” And that means that if everything’s going well and you know exactly where the end of the chapter’s going to go and you know just what the people are going to do, you don’t go on writing and writing until you come to the end of it, because when you do, then you say, well, where am I going to go next? And you get up and you walk away and you don’t want to come back because you don’t know where you want to go. But if you stop when you are going good, as Hemingway said…then you know what you are going to say next. You make yourself stop, put your pencil down and everything, and you walk away. And you can’t wait to get back because you know what you want to say next and that’s lovely and you have to try and do that. Every time, every day all the way through the year. If you stop when you are stuck, then you are in trouble!”

- Roald Dahl

No one can uncover the circumstances behind why this picture of Roald Dahl and Ernest Hemingway was taken, other than it was in London during the Second World War. Hemingway found himself in Europe from June-December 1944 in his capacity as a war journalist.

Roald Dahl was commissioned into the Royal Air Force and was a frontline fighter pilot showing tremendous courage and bravery and who eventually rose to the rank of wing commander. His flying days came to a premature end after a crash landing that nearly cost him his life. Between 1939-1941 Dahl was the assistant air attache in Washington DC and moved around in those diplomatic and political circles hoping to get some inside information and intelligence on America’s intentions and plans with regarding the war in Europe. Bored by his work he fell into the murky world of intelligence and became part of a Brirish spy ring called ‘The Irregulars’ which included the future James Bond author Ian Fleming. His spy work chiefly consisted of mobilising American opinion. This was at a time when Britain stood alone against the expected Nazi invasion and Britain was hoping to the USA would enter the conflict and thus tilt the balance.

When this photo was taken Dahl was a mere 28 years old and Hemingway was 45 years old. The picture doesn’t really do justice to how tall both men were with Hemingway being 6 feet tall but towered over by Dahl’s 6’6” wiry frame. Clearly Hemingway was already a celebrated author with The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms, and For Whom the Bell Tolls already published. Dahl, by contrast, hadn’t written anything significant yet - like his friend and colleague Ian Fleming - other than his children’s book, The Gremlins, in 1943.

It’s speculative to imagine that Dahl, the inventive intelligence officer and aspiring author, somehow contrived a meeting with the old lion, hoping to get some writing tips.

Photo: Roald Dahl and Ernest Hemingway in London during 1944.

[yama-uba]

Oh Gods. I just searched for Buckshot Roulette and was relieved that I wasn't the only one who had a hyper fixation on this unusual demon or Monster.

Even 3 months ago, I noticed that this game, created in Mike Klubnika trademark off-putting, uncomfortable atmosphere, became more and more enjoyable the longer you played it. And Diller, similar to the characters from the dark game Vangers, loses his disgustingness in your eyes and begins to acquire some kind of specific piquant charm. But then I saw the art from the April update where his face/mask is contorted into this devilish smile with a cigarette, and his hyper-realistic hands are cradling a Browning A5. And something clicked in my poor brain and ovaries.

Oh, Mike, I'd pay 10 times more for a DLC where you could select your avatar's gender and appearance by typing (like Mindjourney's AI) and have a few questions with Diller between shots (Let this be the most banal integration of GPT chat, which plays the role of a character). This would be a "sissy" mode with an air gun that still does a one-shot if you choose the female gender. (Although, who am I kidding, I would always go for Gwen's look from TDA, because I'm sure that guy's "type" is definitely punk and old school goth girls)

I can’t answer why my mind is so captivated by this creature and I’m not even interested in winning the game. I want to know more about HIM. Who are you? Are you a demon? Pyramid Head's partner, specializing in the punishment and redemption of gambling addicts? Are you death? Are you the one who killed God or are you God? Is this your real face or a mask? Are you hiding your body in the dark? Is it not visible? Don't you have a body? You don't die if you lose, do you? Or do you know how to resurrect? Where do you get so much money to throw it away on beer, cigarettes, painkillers, a resuscitator and blood components for transfusion for everyone who agreed to play with you? Is this your hobby? What do you do for a living? (And what are your plans for this evening, after the game?) Is this your nightclub or do you know the owner so they can reserve the back room for you? Are these cameras for your "home video" collection or some show on the darknet? Does selling these guro videos provide money for the jackpot? Does taking risks give you so much pleasure? Are you aware that you have problems with gambling addiction and adrenaline addiction? Was it difficult to beat Adolf Hitler? And Kurt Cobain? Ernest Hemingway? DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?! What’s so special about her, besides her anorexic thinness and talent as a DJ at MMDMA-raves, that a quiet straight-A student with ADHD can’t give you?! Can’t I arrange the same heavy emotional swing?! =) And most importantly: How do you do it? How did you cross out millions of years of evolution and the most severe selection by making me think of yourself as a living man prone to risk? You're just a drawn grimace with two hypnotizing abysses instead of eyes. How did you do this?!

Afterword: Let me mention again that it was a big relief to realize that I was not alone in this strange *hit)

[silverjetsystm]

What ghost haunts you?

the ghost of vengeance

you ache for revenge and little else. red paints your vision, and it has grown so thick that it has grown so hard to see. somewhere within your ribs is a child longing for comfort again. you will never let them see the light of day. for now, there is blood on your hands and your teeth. before you were a human, you were an omen with a heart constructed of thorns. when audre lorde wrote, “i feel it’s my anger that helped keep me alive.” when ashe vernon wrote, “isn’t this rage so ugly? and isn’t it mine, still? good god, isn’t it mine?” you will never find peace within your own anger, but you bathe in it anyway. the way you always have."

the ghost of devotion

your body was crafted to be loved and to be adored. you write with the touch of a poet, the fingertips of a lover. if you are not loved, you are not whole. you are made to be sculpted by the hands of another into something perfect. without their love, you feel as though you may crumble without the support of purpose their touch provides. when ernest hemingway wrote “it was too good to last.” when ocean vuong wrote, “i miss you more than i remember you.” when david foster wallace wrote, “everything i’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

the ghost of rotting truth

you are an actor. you are a performer. you bow to an audience of none but yourself and the gods that know you are a liar. this pain and this longing once drowned you, but time has passed. you were congratulated for your healing. but grief’s icy hands remain inside of your chest, cupping your heart. grief is hooking its fingers under the ridges of your ribcage. with time, it will tear you open. you are meant to bleed slowly. the agony will softly devour you from the back of your memory, and you will smile through it all like it doesn’t hurt, taking your bow when the performance is over. but when the curtains close, do you crumble to your knees? who reaches for you? when the healer falls, who checks to make sure they are alright? silas melvin wrote, “you’re so polite with your sadness. you don’t want to ruin this for anyone.”

lifted from @magnetic-regent-magneto

tagging: @kylo-wrecked @lalamoon @themckaytriarchy @valkxrie @whtwclf

[booigi-boi]

As a fellow good fan of joey characters, I desperately want them to interact with each other

Also what do you think happens if they are all in the same room?

Trust me, I'd die to know what would happen if Ted and Hemingway met, as they're my two favorite Joey characters. Obviously Ted's way slimier than Ernest, but watching those two trying to desperately flirt with someone would be so entertaining 🐐

But what would happen if they all met? Probably think those guys look remarkably like Joey Richter

And Dracula Joey wouldn't be noticed cause I'm the only one who thinks he's a real character lmao 😭😭

[danielfeketewrites]

Hellboy (2004)

First drafts, amirite?

As Ernest Hemingway famously said: "The first draft of anything is shit."

That's an exaggeration, of course. There are first drafts that are at least decent. There are first drafts that could be described as alright. Some writers can do it. Sometimes you just manage to mostly nail it on the first try. But it's a rare thing.

It's really weird, to read an early draft of a film you love. It's in a lot of ways like the thing you love, except... worse. Usually not a whole lot. Just a little. But definitely worse. But you can spot the bits that will be moved, removed, added, tweaked, or changed completely. And you realise that these changes are 9 times out of 10 what makes it the whole thing better.

The first time this has happened to me was probably while reading Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. It's a film I dearly love and reading the screenplay was great... except it was just a slightly worse version. (Might reread it this year for the challenge? Who knows?)

With Hellboy, the experience was maybe even a bit worse, because it's actually quite different at parts to the film I know I love.

And trust me, I love Hellboy.

I fell in love with Guillermo del Torro's two Hellboy films, then I fell in love with Mike Mignola's Hellboy comics. Both of these are very different, but I love them both so goddamn much.

But this script... clearly isn't there yet. Some parts of it are not very engagingly written, and there are some pacing issues, which I think were eventually solved. (Notice the date on the script. It's 1999. Five years before the film's release.)

Also, Hellboy is quite unlikeable in this script. And the one point where I think his dickishness is actually kinda justified, everyone starts acting like he's crossed a line. But by the time this evolves into the film, all of that is largely fixed. The remainders of Hellboy's dickishness are offset by Ron Pearlman's charisma.

And while I said a lot of this is very different, there is so much that made it to the final film: the loose adaptations of Seed of Destruction, agent Myers, Hellboy's relationship with Liz, and so much more of the stuff that makes the first Hellboy movie really enjoyable. You can see the seeds of an amazing film, it's just not finished yet.

It's also important to note how crucial Guillermo del Toro himself is to the film eventually being as good as it is. He's basically writing the roadmap for himself here, he can change the trajectory if he wants to. Eventually, his direction, the cast, and the mise-en-scène end up making the film genuinely memorable.

I love Guillermo del Toro.

And while I said that some bits of the script aren't particularly engaging, there are occasionally some great bits of raw imagery here...

"Rotting steel mills line the street like dead industrial behemoths." This line fucking slaps and you can't tell me otherwise. Raw as fuck, just hidden away in a scene description.

So yeah, there are some great bits. If you're interested in the background of the film, I can recommend it. If you just want some great Hellboy stories, go watch both of the del Toro films. Or go read the comics.

I've read the RaM script on my laptop, I've read the Hellboy script on my ebook reader.

I actually started reading it some time last year. Didn't get past the first act. For the challenge, I pushed myself a little, picked up where I left it and just read the remaining 3/4 of it.

It was ultimately worth it. I think I gained a better understanding of the film's conception and, more importantly, I learned something about first drafts and it's this: If your first draft is finished... No, it's not. Never stop striving to make something better. If you've made something and it's okay or bad or kinda good or whatever, it can always be better.

Suo Tempore.

[lyssified]

i'm asking you about hemingway what would you like to say?

okay first of all THANK YOU for this ask and i'm so sorry I took my sweet time answering it

anyway I have a lot to say abt this so I hope you don't mind if it turns into a little bit of a rant because YES Hemingway was terrible and kind of a freak in a /neg way but he also had the most insane 22 years of life I have EVER heard of

buckle up y'all :)

also trigger warnings for discussions of war and not super graphic injury, dead bodies, horrifying age gaps, discussion and threats of suicide, and just generally Hemingway being a fucking awful person

guys my sources for this is 4 weeks of reading and documentary watching in English class, don't come at me if this isn't exact because i'm going mostly off memory here

so Ernest Hemingway, if you haven't heard of this guy, is a super super famous American writer remembered for his short stories and completely changing the game in literature. he was also kind of a womanizer and had like 4 wives, he was also homophobic and misogynist and stuff. in my opinion his stories are pretty average although the subtext is usually super interesting & there's a lot of great discussion to be had (I will refer you to this pdf of the complete collection of his short stories)

so anyway, Hemingway was born in 1899 and he grew up in Oak Park, Chicago, Illinois, United States of America as the second oldest of like 9 kids. growing up, his mother used to do a silly little thing where she would twin Hemingway and his older sister as either two boys or two girls, and it would be so convincing that their neighbors were confused and thought she had 2 sets of twins. Hemingway eventually grew out of that and started to hate the practice. he began to idolize his father, who was a doctor and also had depression. Hemingway blamed all of his father's issues on his mother and most people think his hatred from women stems from his hatred of his mother because he wanted to be like his dad so badly

so anyway, as much as Hemingway would grow to have literally 4 wives, he was essentially remembered as being a no bitches loser in high school. he had very few friends, sucked at most sports, was pretty clumsy because of his nearsightedness, and really enjoyed taking solo trips to hunt and fish in Michigan. by himself.

naturally, when he was 17 all he wanted was to enlist in the army and fight in WWI because he was a manly man like that. however, he was also really really scared that the army would reject him because he kind of sucked at physical exertion and was also nearsighted and so he signed up to join the red cross!! he was immediately fucking deployed to the FRONT LINES in Italy and promptly almost fainted upon seeing his first dead body. he decided he wasn't really about that almost fainting life so he decided he wanted to drive the ambulance !! and he did that pretty well. for about 2 weeks

and then he said quote unquote "i'm bored of that shit" and volunteered to BIKE up the MOUNTAINS with a CART full of CHOCOLATE AND CIGARETTES to bring to the soldiers. he was the snack boy. he was the fucking snack boy for the army. and then a mortar shell exploded like. 2 feet away from him and embedded him with an absolute Fuck Ton of shrapnel ! he actually wrote that he felt as if his soul left his body in that very moment and then floated back to him

so that absolute Fuck Ton of shrapnel stayed in his leg for quite a while actually, because when they finally got him to a hospital in Milan, he REFUSED TO BE TREATED. he said there were people that needed the treatment more and that he could live with the Fuck Ton of shrapnel for a little while longer. so anyway when he finally did get around to having like 275 pieces of shrapnel removed from his leg, he had some serious mental illness going on. he went through somewhere around 13 surgeries without any painkillers or stuff to numb the pain because a) he was super depressed and wanted to die and b) was also kind of a masochist and enjoyed the pain.

so Hemingway was in the hospital recovering for a fucking WHILE right, and he meets this nurse. she's 27 (he's like 19 or 20 or something) and her name is Agnes von kurowsky. she's his night nurse and they fell in love. they did some cute things like her leaving her hairpin under his hospital bed pillow and them reading to each other late at night. they also did some not so cute things like her calling him "kid" and also sneaking alcohol into the hospital in the wee small hours of the morning and her getting drunk on the job

anyway, Hemingway finally recovers and shit is going GREAT for him. he's got a nurse girlfriend who is 6 or 7 years older than him who writes him every day from france, and he just got back to Oak Park and the US was so impressed with his masochistic depressed surgery-with-no-painkillers thing that they gave him a medal!! so naturally, he thought he was hot shit for that. he started parading around the neighborhood in his full uniform and charging the residents to listen to him tell completely false stories about the war.

around this time was when shit started going downhill. Hemingway received a breakup letter from France from Agnes, and the letter said that she did love him, but not in a boyfriend girlfriend way. IN A MOTHER SON WAY (eeeeeeeeeeeeew). so he got son-zoned. and he wasn't very happy about that, so he decided to start partying in the woods with minors and going hunting and fishing again to prove to himself that he was still hot shit. and his parents really didn't like the "parading around in full uniform telling lies and then going to party with minors in the woods" schtick, so they told him hey ! cut that out !

direct if somewhat paraphrased quote from hemingway's dad: "shorten your temper, respect women, and fear God"

so Hemingway moved the fuck out of there and found himself ANOTHER girfriend !! her name was Hadley Richardson and she was also really really depressed. on the day of their wedding, Hemingway actually threatened suicide but she guilt tripped him into not doing that and then they moved to France and made friends with a lot of artsy people and Hemingway started writing again. He got a job for a newspaper and tried to get some of his short stories published. he got invited to a conference in Sweden at one point and met a publisher that was interested in his work. he asked Hadley to bring his work up to meet him, so she packed EVERYTHING into a trunk and took it on the train- she had it delivered to her car. when she got there, the trunk was gone. to this day we still don't know where all of Hemingway's early work is.

anyway. let's recap. AT THE RIPE AGE OF 22!! Ernest hemingway was: dressed as a girl by his mom, learned intense hatred of woman at a young age, got no bitches in highschool, got too scared to join the army, drove an ambulance, became the snack boy, got a Fuck Ton of shrapnel in his leg, underwent 13 surgeries without painkillers, fell in love with his nurse, got a medal for masochism, got son-zoned, got told to respect women and fear god, married his first of 4 wives, and lost every single one of his short stories that he had ever written

AND HE WENT ON TO DO MORE INSANE SHIT but this is getting really really long so we'll call this part 1 and i'll reblog this with some other stuff I find insane about him !!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK SORRY THIS WAS A RANT