cookiemagination-blog

[cookiemagination-blog]

is it possible to be abc???

How The SGE Fandom Feels About Hophie

A: OMg yESS HOPHIe is lifE ThEy nEEd to GEt toGETHer LikE seriouUSLY my OTP PLease

B: SOPHIE DOESN'T FREAKING DESERVE HORT OK!!

C: i just want my babies to be happy

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*cough* hort *cough*

reblog if you think Sophie deserves a love interest who doesn’t try to kill everyone he meets.

[cookiemagination-blog]

please

i would do anything to get a seven season show of The Marauders™

[cookiemagination-blog]

Uncover

I study the face in front of my own. I take in every details of its features, enjoying it; the delicately shaped ink lining the edge of each eyelids, the dark curled up lashes, its rosy pink cheeks, two glistening sapphire eyes, and the perfectly clasped red lips.

So breathtaking.... yet so unlike me.

And as I hold my gaze, my eyes scanning past the makeup layer, I catch what naked eyes can't. I witness two hazel pupils struggling to escape from the fake blue plastics obscuring them. I see strands of lashes drooping weakly from having to stand up so long. I watch my true self begging to be freed.

I sigh, reaching for my makeup remover and pouring down the liquid upon a ball of cotton. I take in my gorgeous yet unhappy reflection for the last time, before gently swiping the cotton over the cherry red lips, slowly revealing pale, chapped lips. Yet they blossom a smile sweeter than the previous strikingly beautiful lips could ever make.

I move on to my blushing cheeks, wiping away the pink color until the only thing left is my own beige skin, looking rather liveless after losing its rosy color. Yet I feel myself somewhat more.... alive.

Changing the cotton, I begin with the right eye. I halt as I examine the differences between both eyes. Sure the right one doesn't look bold anymore, compared to the left one. Yet I feel so much braver as I wipe off what is left of the makeup I'm wearing. Brave for being able to let out my real self beneath the mask I've been wearing.

Last, I remove my bright blue fake lenses, locking gaze with the newly exposed ordinary hazel iris, seemingly dim if opposed with the shimmering blue ones. Yet I find them shining, as though bursting out the light inside me.

I back away, examining my face farther, smiling in satisfication. Now this is more like it, I think. I love myself the way I always am, and wouldn't every try to hide it ever again.

(Note: I don't mean to discourage those who like to wear makeups, this is simply written to say that you should love yourself the way you are and shouldn't hide your identity behind a mask, meaning if you do feel like yourself with a makeup on, then go on wear it.)

[cookiemagination-blog]

a friend in need is a friend indeed

The cafe looks the same as always. The smell of roasted coffee beans mixed with newly baked goods waft through the air, causing the mouths of those who caught the scent to water. The waiters and cashiers were all dressed in their usual mocha-colored aprons, which colors fade each time she makes a visit. The elegant design of the building with its shiny wooden furnitures; simple yet very classy. The only difference is she doesn't see her best friend sitting on their favorite table near the counter, where the wifi signal is at its best and they can order everything easily, neither are the seats taken. She looks around the tiny place and finds a ruffled jet-black hair poking out of a sofa facing backward in the far corner of the cafe. She's pretty sure it's him, but why would he chose to sit over there when their favorite spot isn't taken? The first time they ever sat there was when most of the seats in the cafe were taken and that table was the only one without unfinished meals scattered upon it. And she thought it would be their last. She took timid steps toward him, careful not to embrace the wrong person. It is him, but his looks transforms drastically from the last time she saw him, and it was only three days ago. His eyes are red and sunken; his skin is paler than ever; his cheekbones curve sharply below his eyes; and though he is wearing an ordinary t-shirt along with trainings, she knows it's unusual because that's not the way he normally dresses, not to mention a number of peculiar looking bracelets being pressed against his bony left wrist. She sat across from him, parted from him only by a rectangle wooden table on which stood a tall glass of his favorite caramel frappe and her favorite fusion of strawberry-lychee tea, both unnoticed by their owners. He forces a smile at the sight of her, but she isn't buying it; his eyes look dead. "What's wrong? Don't say everything's fine," she asks with concern but also firm, just so he knows she isn't here to listen to lies. But he never intends to do that, he's here to clear up his clouded mind. Right after she said that, tears well up in his eyes, and his mouth twitches as though it wanted to say something but is not able to. Her forehead crinkles and her brows knit in anxiety as she watches him. At last, the first word come out along with a droplet of tear and the story goes on, each tear synchronizing a word. Seeing her friend suffer like this pierces her chest, she can literally feel the pain as though someone stabs her. Tears start to make their own ways down her cheeks. All along, she only knew a part of the story about how he's always compared to his genius younger brother by his parents, more specifically, his mother. He frequently complains about it, but she has never considered it as a big deal because it didn't seem to truly upset him. She also noticed that he was flunking his grades when he is usually on top, but once again, she thought it's just a phase. She feels guilty for thinking so, for it actually distress him so much as he's confessing to her right now. He tells her that he had been failing his classes because his brain burned out due to all the extra studying he has to do at home, and everyday in his life is spent with him trying to keep up with his prodigy brother while his mother occasionally calling him 'feeble-minded'. Exactly three days ago, his mother found his hidden stacks of red-marked worksheets and in the very same day his brother won another international-geniuses award whatsoever, of course his mother went frantic and verbally abused him. It was his breaking point, he locked and starved himself in his room ever since. "I-I'll never b-be g-g-good enough," he sniffles at the end of the story, wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. He then folds his arms upon the table and hides behind them, sobbing unstoppably as an effect of finally letting everything he buried deep down for months to burst out within minutes. She, on the other hand, can't stop tears from leaking and is completely speechless. No word seems to explain how sorry she is and how much she wishes to help him. She does the only thing that's possible for now, she reaches forward and pats him tenderly on his shoulder. Out of conciousness, he loosens the tight grasp of his bracelets, and she sees them. Her eyes catch a series of new wounds decorating his snow-white wrist, concealed beneath the row of bracelets. The looks of them somehow worsen her already unbearable pain, she has to held on her chest to diminish the agony. She hates herself for not being there earlier, for not being able to cease his attempt of hurting himself, for not realizing how big the problem is, and most importantly, for not being there when he needed her.... When he finally looks up, track of tears glistening on his cheeks, she gazes deeply into his cold brown eyes and says, "I'll be there for you when you need me, don't ever hesitate to call." She thinks it's the least she can do, she doesn't know how powerful those words are. Not until she sees him smiling genuinely for the first time today along with the return of the light in his eyes.

[cookiemagination-blog]

Animal Lives Matter

The endless sky is draped with total darkness. The forest beneath it doesn't look less frightening, the tall trees' shadows tower over everything on the lower ground in a very sinister​ way while the owls hoot eeriely. All of sudden, a streak of light cut through the pitch black shadows of the trees, and deep men voices beat the sound of the hooting. "Over there!" A man shouts. The beam of light moves to the source of a rustling sound. "Where?!" Another voice yells impatiently, apparently threatened by the blinding darkness. Without waiting for his friend's answer, he shoots his loaded rifle aimlessly, narrowly missing an owl, which hoots angrily as it flaps in wings to be swallowed by the darkness. "What the--? You could've shot me!" The first man bellowed, outraged. The darkness seems to be getting into his nerves too. "Don't shoot before I tell you to!" "Sorry," the other one mutters, reloading his rifle and following his friend forward with loud footsteps. "Ssh!" shushes the first one, walking inaudibly. He has one hand on the back of an ear, trying to listen carefully to his soon-to-be victim and the other on a bright-lighted flashlight, which is following the path where the fox has just left. The poor animal was doing its usual night prey-hunting, when a ray of light glowered right at its eyes, paralyzing it for a fraction of second, which increased the chance of its hunters to get close to it. Hearing voices getting nearer, it dazedly fled, staggering slightly. And here it's now, not anymore stunned, but nearly running out of breath trying to escape the reckless hunters. Its paws leap and fall back to the ground repeatedly as it quickens its pace, thinking of hiding, but knows better not to. They have something to light up their paths, and if it hides, they would find it within a second. It gasps desperately for air, its feet slowing down on every step it takes. It stops, attempting its best to cover itself amongst a bush. The footsteps behind it pauses abruptly. The man holding the rifle bumps into the first one, who is shushing noisily with a finger on his lips. "The fox's stopping," he whispers to his companion, whose nod is unable to be seen in the blackness. The first man decrease the light from his flashlight, walking quietly towards a tree near the bush where the fox is obscured. The fox, still panting for its breath, knows it's the end. He hears the a muffled sound of thumping some foot behind. It can make a run for its dear life, but no. It doesn't think it's able to run any more miles without collapsing, it just stays there, looking at the dark night hopelessly. "I think it's there," the man holding the flashlight tells his friend quietly, pointing to the bush in front of them and averting the flashlight so the fox won't realize their presence. "But it's dark! I can see nothing!" The other complains quite loudly. "Use the night vision, dumbass!" hisses the first one fretfully as the second man raises the rifle's night vision to his eye level, directing the rifle to the bush where the fox lays under. A sound of bullet exploding followed by a bloodcurdling shriek rings through the hollow night, but immediately covered by a roar of triumphant laughter. The lifeless body of the fox is now being dragged by its back legs by the second man with a bulky arm of his. The figure looks more miserable than ever, being treated as though its soul doesn't worth at all.

[cookiemagination-blog]

Deforestation, one of the main environmental issues

A family-sized blue car is drifting in a slow pace through the hills upon the country lanes, all two windows on each side are opened, letting the dawn airy breeze inside.

“Wow, look at that lake!” yells the little girl occupying the left window with excitement, pointing frantically outside the window at a clear dazzling-blue lake surrounded by small trees, which is gleaming under a tiny ray of newly-born sunlight. A dozen of fish are visible.

“Scoot over! I wanna see!” Her older brother pushes her aside quite forcefully. She drags her body aside a little, leaving a little space for her brother to look out of the window. In no time, two heads are popping out side by side with both eyes beaming cheerfully at the view of the fish, which occasionally showing their heads in the surface to catch insects floating overhead.

The view of the crystal blue lake eventually goes away, but those two heads stay in their position, gazing admiringly at many other different views. They even catch the sight of two monkeys, swinging somewhere deep in a forest.

The words “ah! So pretty”, “wow” and “cool” frequently come out of their mouths, but most of the time their mouths are stretched wide as they gape, speechless. While their parents, who have been through this journey for a couple of times, only smile in delight at the sight of their amazed children.

They both finally feel drowsy after the wind waft their face for so long. The boy get back to his seat before dozing off, follow by a calm, deep breathing from the seat next to his.

“The kids are asleep,” the mother informs her husband, a warm smile makes appearance on her lips as she watches her children sleeping in ease, calming her in the way nothing else could.

“Really? But the ‘best view’ is yet to come,” says her husband, glancing the rearview mirror to have a look himself.

“Let them have a little nap, they’ve been awake since early morning. We could wake them up later,” the mother replies, turning her face back to the narrow road, which is still surrounded by tremendous trees on each side of it.

By the time the car moves further ahead, the tall trees are growing thinner and thinner. The father and the mother are both frowning, the forest is supposed to stretch broadly until a few miles onward. Are they going in a wrong direction?

“No. Look at that sign,” the father says firmly, pointing at a graffitied-rusty old speed limit sign on one side of the road, which pole is broken in half, making the marked green sign hangs limply a few feet above the ground. Moss are growing from the end of the pole, almost covering the rusty half-pole.

He is right. They can’t be lost. They’re passing the sign they’ve been using as a landmark ever since their first trip. Though the odd view is giving them impression they are really turning into a wrong direction.

“What the-?” The father curses, causing his wife to nudge him on his ribs, while hissing and gesturing at the napping kids.

As the view of the tall green canopies are gone, they can see it. An enormous building stands tall at the end of the thin-treed forest, concealing the sun, which is already dangling cheerily above, behind it. Its shadow towers them, making it looks like as though it is going to rain. Although the sun is nowhere to be seen, its hot radiant is still glaring into the inner part of the car, which is slowing down to take a better look of the disaster’s main cause.

A small crowd of people are huddled near the skyscraper, looking gleefully yet quite unhappy by the hot weather.

“What is going on?!” The mother demands, uncertain to whom. But it doesn’t took long for her question to be answered, a piece of flyer flies right into the passenger-seat window.

She catches it and stares at it very closely with her husband their heads are almost touching. A mixture of disgust, disapproval, and furious looks are drawn on their faces as they read the ad about how those horrible people are planning to create this land to what they said would be a “modern and lush small city yet still nature-friendly” place to live.

“What a junk!” The father fumes, crumpling the flyer into a ball, before throwing it somewhere in the trunk. He hits the gas pedal hard, wanting to leave this place so bad, and the wheels start to roll with more speed this time. Even though the car is moving in a faster pace, they can still see, in a bit of blur, the activities going on outside. People with gigantic machines are building who-knows-what and also trying to destroy the left side forest.

“I’m glad the kids didn’t see that,” the mother tells her husband. And he can’t agree more.

What was promised to be the best view of the trip is gone, replaced by something out of the mind of a delusional maniac, who thinks that his imaginary heaven would come alive by damaging the nature.

It won’t take long until they complain about the absent of fresh air, neither will it take long for them to realize how unreal the pictures on the ad were. People. They just never learn.

footnote: this is one of the longest post I’ve ever written, and I had to separate it to three parts on my instagram account (yes I know it’s not for blogging but I just don’t know what to post). This is also another nature-awareness themed writing.

[cookiemagination-blog]

Fact: Many Animals Get Killed While Trying to Cross The Road

Two wild eyes of a mother bobcat peer behind the bushes, moving rapidly in search of something across. Until they catch something in the distance, an eye-blinding beam caused by the sun illuminating on a puddle of water. Right next to it, a fuzzy long-eared creature is standing on all four legs, making those fierce eyes widen in joy.

Meanwhile, on the grassland a few foot behind, lay four bobcat-kittens, chattering worriedly about their mother, who’s taking risk to feed herself and them.

Although they all are very starving, due to not eating as often as they usually do, they kind of feel bad for letting their mother risking her life to cross over the deadly road. Yes deadly, many animals died tragically while trying to get to the other side. But nonetheless, it’s the only place their preys, the hares, live in, those “filthy hoppers” (as said by one of the kittens) are clever enough to live in a lane of their own to get away from their predators. So to the predators, it’s either they starve to death or get killed by vehicles passing bye, they’re awfully lucky if they come back alive.

A wicked smile crosses through the mother’s face as she sees more and more of those creatures circle around the puddle to drink. It’s very hot today, that many animals dehydrate and are craving for anything to drink. While on this side, the bobcat family is craving for meal.

Before crossing the road, she looks to the left (because the road is one-way), making sure it’s ok to cross. Sees nothing but an empty cemented ground, she walks casually through it.

The closer her feet bring her, the wilder her eyes look and the more she licks her upper lips in hunger. The thoughts of finally being able to have a meal makes her careless of her surroundings, she doesn’t notice when a bus with “Grand Camp” sign written on the sides, and “we’re here to appreciate nature” stuck below the sign in a smaller font, heads straight towards her in a maximum level of speed.

It happens so quick. The driver doesn’t even try to slow down, he keeps his pace, and then they collides. The animal is thrown a few meters ahead, totally unconscious, bleeding in some part of its body, but still breathing.

The thud shocks everyone, but there are only two souls–among 40 passengers– who actually care enough to try telling the driver to stop. But of course, instead of stopping, the ruthless driver pretends he hears nothing, and keeps driving fast. Giving one last disgusted look at the guy behind the wheels, they go back to their seats, both with crushed hearts.

Then, they feel a bump underneath the vehicle, and hear a whine. Their heart break into pieces, and one of them even sheds a tear. The other remarks exasperatedly, “oh so this is how they appreciate nature?”

The bus keeps moving towards the camping ground, its wheels leaving trails of blood behind. The mess left by the heartless human is extremely terrible. The bobcat’s bones are crunched, leaving it shapeless, and blood flowing out of its body is creating a blackish-red puddle around the poor creature. It is now, certainly, dead.

A face peeks behind the bushes, dropping its jaw at the view of his mother’s lifeless body. He and his siblings already has a bad feeling ever since they heard the loud thud, but weren’t brave enough to check for themselves while the bus is still there. And now that the bus is gone, the oldest says he’s going to have a look.

“What happened?” asks a voice behind him, but he doesn’t answer. The owner of the voice comes closer, with two other kittens. All of them have their eyes wide open, looking mortified.

“M-mother?” one of them finally speaks up. And if you’re wondering how bobcats cry, here’s a view of four kitten bobcats with tears rolling down each miserable faces.

The worst part is, these bobcats aren’t the only ones who have grieve over a death. More animals feel as sorrow. And all because of humans created this pathway.

*** footnote: I believe that everyone, with everything they’re capable to do, is destined to make the world a better place. So this is an attempt of a nature-awareness themed writing. Excuse me for the dramatic parts

[cookiemagination-blog]

If You Can't Find Any Good Person, Be One

The sun has went away since almost an hour ago, but the humongous clock in the center of the city has only chimed five times.

Ding.. ding… ding… ding… ding

“Time to go home,” he mumbles, shutting off the computer as soon as he heard the last bell. His shift actually ends on seven, but since he had finished all of his work today, he’s allowed to go home earlier, just like what he asked.

He quickly wears his coat, and walks out the door before the night could get any darker and colder.

It is when his stomach growls he remembers he had missed the afternoon tea because he was determined to finish everything before five.

He enters the nearest café, which is on the opposite way of his usual route. This is where the secretary buys coffee for everyone every morning.

The smell of the newly baked pastries and the roasted coffee beans goes right through his nose to his stomach, making it grumbles a little more. He orders one hot cappuccino and a slice of quiche. Since the quiche is already baked, he takes it to a table-for-two by the window, and eats it while waiting for his coffee.

He turns his gaze to the busy sidewalk, and sees her, the miserable-looking girl, under the dim streetlight.

She sits sullenly on the corner of the pavement, not too visible, but not invisible either. Her tiny face is dirty, her filthy hair strands are covered with snowflakes, and the only thing that wraps around her body is a very ugly thin dress. Her bony hand shoved a handful of snow into her mouth. She thinks it’s the only way to keep her stomach full, when in reality, it makes her shudder more and might even kill her with all the bacteria it contains.

His heart feels like it’s being ripped off seeing such a poor girl like her. It shatters into pieces when he sees that instead of helping her, people sneer and look at her in disgust. This isn’t right.

Munching the last piece of his quiche, he realizes that he could help her instead of waiting for people to pity her. He practically jumps of his seat and marches to the counter, where the lady is holding his cup of coffee.

“Uh, sir, here’s your cappuccino, I’m sorry–” she thought he came to complain. He shakes his head and orders a cup of tea and six pastries, any kind.

Seeing the guy in front of her biting his lips impatiently, the lady quickly does what he asks for.

After paying for the whole thing, he rushes towards the door. “Sir! You forgot your coffee!” He hears a voice calling after him, but all he does is raises a thumb up and leaves.

He crosses the road and goes up to the girl, whose eyes open wide in fear. But as soon as he smiles, she calms down.

“Here’s a little gift for you,” he hands her the treats, kneeling down.

“T-thank y-y-you,” she stutters because of the cold. He smiles again, even in this tragic situation, she still knows how to thank people.

He watches her as she wolfs down the whole thing, and realizes that she looks more miserable in close up. Bones nearly pop out of her skin, her emerald eyes look very big with the lack of fat she has, and the dirt covering her face and hair looks very nasty. But inside, he knows that if she’s being taken care properly, she’ll look pretty.

While sipping her tea carefully, she shivers again. He takes off his coat, and gives it to her, who tries her best to smile. He smiles back and says goodbye, realizing how late it is.

The temperature drops lower, and he’s only wearing a sweater, but it doesn’t bother him. A warm feeling inside his heart radiates through his whole body, keeping him warm and happy. It’s not hard to search for a nice person, all you have to do is look for it in yourself.

*** footnote: one of my attempt to show both dark side and good side of the world. Hope I did well!

[cookiemagination-blog]

Stay Close To Anything That Makes You Feel Glad You're Alive

Heavy rain pours down harder than the tears streaming down her cheeks. Life hasn’t been good to her lately. She’s under a lot of pressure. Upcoming final exams, problems with friends, and hard time at work. Not to mention being away from her family.

Burying her face on the palm of her hands, while the wind is getting stronger, she thinks about her life, how did things end up the way they’re now.

The awning above the bench she’s sitting on isn’t doing a very good job at keeping her from getting wet, the rain still gets her with help from the wind, but she doesn’t care. She barely feels a thing when rain drizzled on top of her brunette hair, the only thing she’s feeling is an unbearable pain on her chest that keeps tears bloating out of her eyes.

The rain eventually calms down as she lifts her head off her hands. Wiping the tears harshly from her swollen hazel eyes with the back of her hands, she breathes deeply to stop herself from flowing more tears.

She rises up from her seat, heading back to her apartment with only a thing on her mind.

As soon as she gets back, she dials a number.

“Hi honey,” she hears a very soft and soothing sound from her phone, that’s pressed hard against her ears. “Is everything fine?”

She feels a hot lump on her throat, and her vision is blurred, but at the same time, her mouth curves upward. “Hi, Mom. I miss you.”

It’s actually the only thing that keeps her from hurting herself, from jumping down the roof of her apartment. The only thing that makes her feel glad she’s alive.

p.s: taken from one of my favorite quotes

[cookiemagination-blog]

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

The wooden stairs underneath her feet makes a creaking sound as she steps on them, one by one. She winces when she reaches the last stair, its condition seems to be the worse among the aged stairs, it creates a sound like it’s about to break into pieces right under her right foot.

The attic looks exactly the same as it was the last time she went here, except that now the dust is thicker. She sneezes repeatedly, while her hands brush off the dust that’s blocking her path.

She doesn’t actually know what brings her here, what leads her to the small box sulking in the corner of the room. She just feels like doing it.

Reaching over for the box, she cleans layers of dust on it, blowing them off and then sneezes again.

She opens the box, revealing a bunch of paper from many sizes, most of them are in the same size as polaroid-framed pictures.

She reaches for one of them, shutting her eyes at the same time as her stomach starts to twist into knots for some reason. Her hand lands on one picture, and she pulls her hand out, opening her eyes.

It is a picture of her and her closest friends on a newly opened amusement park back in 2012. She has never really like collecting pictures nor taking them, she never understands the value of those things. She collects them because her mother always tell to her to do it “or else you’ll regret it later” she says.

But this time, something weird seeps inside her body, making her chest ache when she looks at the thing she’s holding.

Tears starts to fill her eyes, making it hard for her to see. Blinking away those tears, she giggles sadly at the sight of the ice cream-stained shoe one of her friends was wearing. She remembers how hot it was back then, that her ice cream melted so quickly on her friend’s shoe just right after she got it.

The memory is followed by a wave of another memories, that makes more tears roll on her cheeks, and more bitter laughs, too.

After what seems like half-an-hour, she puts the photo back on top of the pile of pictures inside the box, and closes it very carefully, putting it back to sit unrecognizably on the corner.

“Thanks mom,” she mumbles under her breath. She never knew how much a picture means. How many things a picture could tell.

How a picture is, indeed, worth a thousand words, thousand of unspoken ones.

** I’ve posted this on my personal Instagram post, so people whom I personally know must’ve read this.

[cookiemagination-blog]

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