#but i've had the imagery for this in my head forever; so happy to get it out

[somnimagus]

paper doll chain

(stills under the cut!)

[id in alt]

[heart2beom]

Hellooo I’ve said this as an anon before but I absolutely love your writing! Unrelated, but I was wondering if you have any Beomgyu fic recommendations? I read everything I could in the long post containing fic recs on your previous 4beomy account and I loved every single one of them, but now I can’t find anything left so I’m just rereading my faves LOL Thank you! (And also, thank you for writing! Again, your fics make me so happy)

You’re sooo sweet, thank you for complimenting me not once but TWICE 😭😭?? In terms of recs, I honestly have no idea if I’ve read anything much lately so I had to quickly cruise through my likes both on here and my old blog 😭

I present to you the list of beomgyu fics I’ve decently enjoyed (hopefully no repeats from my other list):

-> Message in a Bottle by @delacyrose224

very cute stuff, best friends to lovers...everyone knows at this point, but i'll forever express my love for this basic ass trope (i literally have a full list of books for b2l. the best romance books come from this trope!!!). one thing i loved about this fic is the portrayal of beomgyu-- just a genuinely good guy. the way he was discreet about his jealousy instead of making a whole deal about it, like fuck i love a mature, healthy dynamic, its so freaking cute

-> Night In by @tqmies

a dark fic, but its so good. i especially liked the fantasy element/twist on a common trope. everything about this is well written but the ending will give you some heebie jeebies (cant believe i just used that) its some fucked up shit 😭 um but b2l beomgyu!! (shoot me in the head)

-> A Recipe for Love by @tinietaehyun

who doesnt love a good old b2l beomgyu roommate fluff!?!?! it's soooo freaking cute i swear i never giggled so much 😭 this writer in general is very good with words and imagery, it's incredibly vivid.

-> how could you not know? by @angelbythewindow

have you noticed the pattern? yeah, it's another b2l. i LOVED the use of flashbacks here and the cute usage of the childhood "beanpole" nickname like shut up do you want me to die? the emotions here were OVERPOWERING. i felt everything beomgyu felt, felt everything mc felt, it was just sosososososo well written.

-> Why We (Don't) Work by @cafeseoulmate

haha. definitely not another b2l!!! i never included this on my other blog's rec list (bcs i dont think it was out at the time) but it is my most recent reblog on 4beomy so i'm fairly sure you've seen it. but regardless, for anyone else who's looking for beomgyu fics, please please please READ THIS. i wouldn't say it's a plot sort of story, it builds off of a lot of flashbacks and whatnot, but that's what makes it so great. like you get a feel for their relationship, why both characters just wouldn't work out (hence the title) but then the more you read the more you're like...alright... YOU KNOW?? like fuck, i almost teared up by the end it was such a cute love confession. a must read for all the bamtoris.

-> slam dunk, lover boy by @qqtxt

just absolutely cute stuff. check out everything from this blog, just binge, you're guaranteed fluffy cuteness. nothing really happens between the two here, but its still really cute and ykw i wanted some change here, so this is a sprinkle of e2l beomgyu

-> Stood Up by @imaginidol

okay, it's angst, i'll be straight up. but idk it was an enjoyable read, even though a little sad at the end 😭

-> Moonflower by @sleeping-sirens

really sweet short stuff, i love beomgyu i swear

-> somniferous confessions by @gyu-xiao

i don't usually read bulleted fics (this is the only one i've read actually 😭) but this is worth the read. i genuinely squealed a few times, giggled like tons, it was so adorable i loved it.

-> be my date by @blossom-hwa

honestly a little bit of a blur, i read this ages ago, but it's good because blossom hwa wrote it like trust me.

-> i know i love you by @universecorp

tried really hard to not include smut but this is definitely a little more plot driven than it is smut, it's sweet. a little angsty but i love it. smut at the end is definitely skippale, just concluding it as the fact that they made love is cute enough too 😭

-> check yes, juliet by @fairyofthestar

-> Yours Truly by @boba-beom

so so freaking cute. we're back with the b2ls but who cares, we all know it fits him so well!!!

-> old friend by @hueningshaped

a little bit of a spin on the fake dating trope and i love it. exes pretending to be lovers? hello? i'm so happy the ending wasn't hard hitting 😭

Fics I'm looking forward to read:

-> The Case by @tinietaehyun

not beomgyu centered but idk i love everything this person has written so far so i'm going to tackle this series. give it a read, i'm sure this'll give someone a good mindfuck since it is a detective series 😭

-> Ashen by @writingmochi

i think i might read this tonight actually, but yeah definitely check this one out. i can sniff out a great writer when i see one!!!!

-> Newsflash! by @ijhyo

teaser has me hooked, like everything about the secret identity...yeah, will wait on it.

-> This Love by @delacyrose224

ive always thought a beomgyu and taehyun love triangle would be a recipe for a perfect fic like… it just makes so much sense because theyre so different in personalities and that clash is just a perfect storm for a love triangle. so i will be reading 🙏 plus, it’s decently long! does it get any better?

Hopefully I got you covered for a couple of days anon 😭 I'll go back to reblogging recommended fics again once I get my shit together at uni, too many good writers out here 💔

[rosie-b]

20 questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me @aidanchaser! 🩷

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27 fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

201,097! (Wow, the last time I checked it was closer to 100k lol)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Miraculous Ladybug so far!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

From most to least kudos, they are:

1. "Camembert" and Other Magic Words 2. Stealing Freedom 3. A Catching Sickness 4. Married in Black (know that she loves you back 5. A Blessed Curse

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment I get, though I'm slow in my responses sometimes. I value getting comments, so responding to them is a way I show my gratitude!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't write angsty endings; I've never really liked them! That said, home is where the fight is leaves our heroes in a pretty precarious situation, though it's implied that they'll win in the end.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

*stares at my wall of HEA fics and asks them to answer for me*

The Overheating of Adrien's Brain, maybe? Adrien's pretty happy in that one!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never gotten any serious hate, no. A couple of demanding fans and people who forgot to read the tags, but beyond that, nothing! (May it stay like that forever 🙏)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! I don't read or write smut. It makes me uncomfortable, but it's fine for others to enjoy, of course!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't write crossovers; my brainrot is caused purely by Miraculous Ladybug, so there's no need! I enjoy reading other people's crossovers occasionally though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of! I don't think any of mine have ever gotten popular enough for that lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But it would be cool if it happened someday.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, honestly I don't know how that function even works on AO3.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

The lovesquare! I've been a fan of many media and ships that could have dragged me into fandom, but none of them were powerful enough until I came across Miraculous Ladybug. I went from 0 to 100 pretty fast after that lol

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Growing Fangs. (But I will finish it someday!!!!) I have so much lore for it in my head but it's so hard to connect to the published chapters, which are set a decade before the actual plot. Why I did this to myself I will never know!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten compliments on my dialogue, characterization, and overall writing style, which is nice!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Imagery my beloathed!! I don't quite have aphantasia, but it's hard for me to picture stuff in my head, so trying to write good descriptions is always a challenge for me. The words are words all right, but do they form a picture in someone's head? I can never tell.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think as long as it feels natural and has a translation in the notes or at the end of the fic, it's fine!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Miraculous Ladybug! My first true obssession 🥰

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

All of them?

I have a lot of fun writing my crack fics, like Erinnerungn't and A Catching Sickness. I also really enjoyed writing "Camembert" and Other Magic Words and A Blessed Curse, and puzzling out True Blue's plot has been a lot of fun!

Thanks again for the tag! 💕

I will no-pressure tag @mostmagical @lady-de-mon-coeur @miabrown007 @wackus-bonkus-maximus and @coffeebanana!

[apoptoses]

I’d been waiting for the right moment to sink my proverbial teeth into Fade Into You (approximately 45 minutes ago) and I am yet again losing my shit 🥹 not that I was expecting any less from you/this series but that was somewhat of a religious experinece ngl. Loved how much of a soft, sensual and all-encompasing experience it was for both of them, and how much of an exercise in vampire lovemaking it was for Daniel. That shit will come in HANDY someday, and I wonder how aware of it Armand is at the time and how deep in denial he’s trying to remain. Like, if that was a test... Daniel passed with flying colors. THE perfect vampire lover idc what anyone says, Armand had to know right there and then that this was the man who’d keep him coming for��the rest of eternity. He lucked out fr fr

First of all, Daniel tying Armand’s hair into a bun, some A+ imagery right there (have you ever seen those pictures of Christian Bale doing it to Natalie Portman? the armandaniel vibes are there imo). Then you had Armand slowly but surely letting his guard down for Daniel, letting himself be vulnerable and soft and needy, and Daniel isn’t sure why but he knows this is a huge thing and will make it count.

And this: “For a moment Armand only blinked at him, so sweet and drunk looking that Daniel couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He’d always assumed it would take something rough and forceful to bring Armand out of his head. He’d never imagined gentleness would have him drifting and slow to respond.” THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE!!! Such a gorgeous description of pliant, sweet Armand. I’m obsessed. How many people have had the chance of seeing Armand like this? Two, maybe three in 500 years? Incredible. 

“It was an unnatural coupling. A shared release no mortal was ever meant to experience, that maybe even god himself hadn’t intended for in the great design of the universe” yesss and that’s what so fascinating about them, Daniel should’ve never experienced any of the things he experienced as a human with Armand, they were not meant for him, and yet he did and they were and he loved every bit of it. He’s such a gift, which is exactly what Armand called him🥹

Can’t wait for the third installment!!! Over the moon that this is now an ongoing series. All of your WIPs sound heavenly tho how exciting 😭xoxo DA

dungeon anon, just the person i wanted to hear from after a rough day ♥

Loved how much of a soft, sensual and all-encompasing experience it was for both of them, and how much of an exercise in vampire lovemaking it was for Daniel. That shit will come in HANDY someday <- Right!! he's so curious about the vampire experience, there's some appeal there for him. like he knows what armand's body can and can't do and he wants to be like him regardless! so i really think he would fixate on it and want to experiment with what being one of armand's kind is like in the more literal sense, and what their physical relationsip could be like once he's turned.

and listen armand describing daniel as gentle over and over, even at the end of TVA when they're on a break is forever on my mind. and so it only made sense that he would be gentle in taking control! it's so natural that he's good at this!

and i just love any excuse to get armand out of his head so like. i had to do it, i had to let someone be gentle with him for the first time in centuries (and i had to let daniel see what he's like in that state because lord! what an impression having armand melt for him like that would leave. he'd be running the show in that bedroom for weeks after just to keep getting repeat performances)

so i'm so happy you loved it!! and i'm having so much fun working on the third part. i've never done freshly turned daniel and he's such a delight, so eager to share a first with armand ♥

Here's a snippet, the first few paragraphs:

It was a terrible thing they’d been through. The sudden threat, the burnings, Akasha. Like living through a World War in the span of just a few days. He should have found it all terribly traumatizing , the way they’d all narrowly escaped death- how he’d escaped death twice in mere hours!- and yet Daniel could only find it all surreal. He watched out the window of the SUV for the breaks in the palm trees and greenery where the lights of Night Island shone through. They were like great fireflies dancing in the darkness, there one second and then, as the cars crawled down the private road, blinking out of existence. Daniel touched the tinted window and tried to blot out the lights with his fingertips. He laughed to himself when a particularly bright one glowed like a halo around his ring finger. “Are you alright?” Louis murmured from the seat beside him. Daniel nodded. “Yes. I have to laugh to keep the dread away.” “Dread?” Daniel didn’t answer. Instead he listened to the low rumble of old Italian coming from the very back seat. Armand and his Maker, Marius, whispering in a dialect he couldn’t understand. Every now and then a word caught on his mind- ‘boy’, ‘danger’, ‘mistake’- but the grammar was lost to him. The declensions of the verbs were too unfamiliar, lost and mutated by time.

Meeting these people should have been an ecstatic thing. And it had been, at first. Walking into the great Sonoma compound and seeing vampires he’d only heard of in Lestat’s book alive and real before his very own eyes- it had been like being a child and discovering Santa Claus wasn’t a myth. Like seeing the living faces of saints. And then, one by one, those relics of Armand’s past had dismissed him. Marius declared he’d lacked common sense (he’d heard that thought and giggled at it at the time, now it sat in his dead stomach like a stone). Gabrielle ignored him when he spoke. Lestat- well, he had cast a glance or two Daniel’s way but then he’d been preoccupied by his mother and Louis, those artifacts of his own existence. And that was fine, really. Daniel was used to being something of an outcast by now. Always a peripheral presence in a group but never an intimate friend. He’d gotten used to that during his years with Armand when they’d uprooted themselves over and over, moving through cities and friend groups like fish through water. No, what sat wrong with him was Armand’s continued distance from him.

(and then- well I swear it gets better from there ♥)

[lilyliveredlittlerichboy]

ive been spending way too much time on terf blogs the past few days and this thing i saw has been living in my head rent free like

(Image description: @/fakeboitherottengirl writes, "You learn to chase gender like you learn to chase any other drug. You chase gender euphoria like an anorexic chasing her skeleton. The next piece of clothing, the next haircut, the next injection, the next operation, THATS the thing you need to be happy. After this next binder or HRT or boob job or dress or tube of makeup your body will finally feel "right". And by the time you've eliminated all the things that could be "wrong", when no hair is left out of place and and you "pass" you realize you are still yourself with all the same pain you've been running from getting closer every day. And suddenly there's nowhere left to run. Your hair can't get any shorter. Your chin can't get any smoother. No shade of lipstick fills the void it once promised to. Capitalism lied to you and is actively profiting off of your gender dysphoria/euphoria. Dysphoric people deserve better than the capitalist "solution" of transition." End image description.)

There's so much wrong with this where do I start. (Soooo tempted to just throw out the whole suitcase but I think there's maybe half a thought in there worth keeping. So here goes)

All of the procedures you've listed above are things cis people do as well. Buy makeup and have boob jobs and get laser hair removal, buy gender-affirming (or gender nonconformity-affirming) clothing and jewellery. Yet somehow it's only bad when trans people do it? Capitalism leaves hollow voids of suffering in all of us. How we fill it is each of our own choice, and all of the things mentioned above are morally neutral. Including drug addiction and even eating disorders, because we believe in a thing called bodily autonomy. heard of it?

The capitalist solution of transitioning: Okay yes lots of trans people spend money on transitioning. A lot of cis people also spend money on gender-affirming clothes, accessories and surgeries. Capitalism has a solution for everything. It's true. BUT: not everyone's transition involves a lot of money, and most trans people are poor af. We cut our own (or each others) hair, get clothes from free clothes swaps and use other forms of mutual aid. Changing your name and pronouns is free! And yes we have to exist under capitalism, great observation sherlock. anything else?

And what, exactly, is a better solution for dysphoric people? Since you acknowledge they exist. Is it to live with their pain forever? I mean, you radfemmy types take enormous pride in suffering and make suffering the very core of your ideology so I can't say I'm surprised. Tell Me, has your suffering enlightened you? Do you know things no one else does? Did you find the light. And why am I reminded of tradcath imagery where you have to suffer to make up for being born, until you die... is this the kind of imagery you strive to invoke? Is your suffering the yoke you toil under forever, to make up for the wrongness in your soul and the void in your heart. Do we all need to find Jesus? Tell Me? (or please maybe just help us dismantle capitalism. yes it wants to sell you solutions to problems that didn't exist until capitalism told you you had them!! yes it hurts everyone!! we agree on this!!)

tldr suffering is great and if you embrace it you won't have to participate in capitalism anymore. but it's fine to participate in capitalism actually, as long as you're being nice and cis about it i guess. womanhood is only suffering and manhood is only violence and there is no room for genuine joy in the human experience. this is what you're telling me yes? okay. cool. okay

anyway I've found so much love and peace from being trans, not really from changing my body (which I BARELY have and still don't really know if I will) but from being part of loving, accepting, truly radical communities. Going from being othered to being part of the othereds. Community is the true value of the queers. Probably you radfems would agree about your own!! You love your communities and want to keep them safe!! See, us too. And we don't have to fight each other to keep ourselves safe. In fact fighting makes all of us less safe! None of us want that.

Anyway it's so difficult to have nuanced (or any) conversations about these things and i appreciate you taking the time to read this. and as much as I understand that my "why can't we all get along uwu 🥺" thing is naive and idealistic, I would much prefer to be naive, idealistic and hopeful, than full of distress and fear and despair at the state of the world - and the state of feminist, body neutral and autonomy affirming activism. (A despair we share, I assure you! Being hopeful anyway is an active choice.)

Hope is hard. It is! I have a lot of practice cultivating mine and it still doesn't come easy. The first step is believing you can have hope, and that things can get better. The next step is to find out what you, personally, can do to actively make things better for people around you. Start hyper-local, log off from the internet for a lil while, consult older activists around you. Millions of people doing tiny things will add up to bigger changes, and you have to believe change is possible. You have to. Otherwise you will get too content in your own misery and stop growing as a person and stop actually making the world better.

"You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time." ― Angela Davis

Anyway, one thing that doesn't help is trying to take away people's bodily autonomy. Whether that's restricting access to abortion, or access to transition, or access to cosmetic surgery, or ability to do sex work, or kink. Just cus you personally think any/all of these are oppressive and evil, doesn't mean you get to make choices for other people on how to live their lives.

Bodily autonomy.

If you're against abortions, don't get one.

If you're against transition, don't get one.

If you're against kink, don't do it.

Some people don't get a choice, such as victims of sex trafficking or Hershel Walker's mistresses when he arranges their abortions. But that doesn't mean you should take the choice away from everyone.

[broadstflyers]

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic! It's really just an idea I've had for months, and then wrote, and then couldn't figure out which hockey boy it fit, until some mutuals were kind enough to help. I settled on our boy Barzy! It's inspired by Taylor Swift's "Gold Rush", and I really wanted to do my best in reflecting the beautiful imagery this story creates for me. I hope I did it justice. It's a little terrifying putting my writing out there, but I hope people enjoy it!

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Two curse words, it's really just internal conflict within the reader

Summary: You're celebrating your dad's 50th birthday with some friends and family at a dinner party. You happen to land your eyes on a beautiful stranger, who you can't seem to get out of your head. You spend the rest of the night wondering, should you go up to him?

Or do you let him walk out the door?

___________

They say when you first lay eyes on your soulmate, time stands completely still. As you gaze into their eyes, it feels as though you’ve known them for multiple lifetimes. It feels like home. Is that even remotely true?

You start to take a sip of your drink and turn your head slightly to take in your surroundings. Your eyes dance around the room, until they stumble upon another pair of wondering eyes. Your eyes lock, and you’re instantly sucked into the mysterious yet intriguing twinkling grey-blue color that compliments his navy blue suit. Suddenly, your breath hitches in your throat, every part of your body stiffens, except for your lips that part slightly and eyes that widen. The drink is long forgotten, you’re even struggling to keep it from practically falling out of your hands and onto the wooden floor. The party is now just a blur, the noise? What noise? The world is muffled, as if someone stuck your head into a hundred pillows. Images stream through your mind like an endless movie reel wrapped in shimmery gold. Endless laughter on a first date over coffee. Him rubbing the back of your hand as you take a stroll through the park. Holiday mornings, exchanging gifts. Would he participate in the tradition of opening small gifts first, or would he want the biggest gift right off the bat? Ice skating and him catching you as you stumble on a pesky track in the ice. Him tossing you into the pool while you’re trying to put up a fight in a losing battle. A sweet and quiet proposal where he promises his forever love. A kiss at the altar in front of all your friends and family. Chasing after rambunctious little kids trying to get them to nap. All these gold dripping images of a pure love plow through your brain. Your heart is the unmovable object. They are the unstoppable force.

You and him only shared a look for what was probably half a second, but the thick air that seemed to only be affecting you made time feel like it stood completely still.

You burst back into reality with the help of a slight head shake. “Woah,” you quietly whisper. You blink a few times and finally get around to taking a sip of your drink to quench your parched throat. Did you just see a whole future...with a stranger?

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella asks. Her hand gently touches your arm as she cocks her head to the side. Her brows are furrowed in what can only be described as pure confusion. Did you really space out that badly as she was talking? What were you guys even talking about?

“Oh,” you say as you gently shake your head, “yeah.” You chuckle, “yeah, I’m just fine.” You wait a beat then say, “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom really quickly, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she nods. “Do you need me to come with?”

“I’m totally fine, I promise,” you reassure with every bone in your body while giving her your drink. You really just needed to be alone to calm your racing mind that has now turned a complete stranger into a romantic interest with the power of a golden montage.

You make your way over to the exit of the dining hall and push the creaky open with your shoulder, and the amount of force you had to use honestly hurt. Your heels click down the tiled hallway of the golf club to find the bathroom door. The rectangular bathroom mirror framed in an intricate gold design holds your reflection. You slightly tilt your head as you take a look at your face. It’s like someone took the color of a clown nose and colored in your face with it. Jeez. You shake your head and sigh. This isn’t good, and deep down, you know that. You hate when you’re like this, all flustered over someone who just happened to lock eyes with you. His eyes. They were gleaming and just all around beautiful. What were you thinking again?

Oh, right.

Well, it’s pretty obvious he has this power over you, and you don’t like that. Now is your face going to become red everytime you see him? You check your phone. There’s still two hours left, plenty of time to possibly see him again. You can’t tell if that’s necessarily a good or bad thing.

You pace around the bathroom trying to reason with your begging heart. He was pretty good looking, which means that so many people naturally want him. Who was he even talking to, anyways? You gasp and stop in your tracks, blood running cold. “He was talking to a girl,” you mumble. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t sound completely and utterly crushed. In the heat of the moment, you completely failed to realize the blonde standing next to him. You lean over the counter, the cold marble feeling on your arms making your arms break out in goosebumps. You take one last stern look in the mirror at your face. “See, this is why we can’t allow ourselves to fall that hard,” you whisper angrily, “everyone wants him, and I just...I don’t like a gold rush like that.” You shake your head again and take one last deep breath to shake out any other thoughts. You can see yourself standing barefooted at the bottom of a hole looking astounded at how tall the walls have grown, and how distant the light looks. It feels like you soared lightheartedly into the sky, just to fall and crush every bone in your body.

You roll your eyes to yourself while slightly cursing yourself out. Pushing the bathroom door open, you step out into the hallway and make a beeline back for the dining hall. Your purse starts spastically vibrating, so you hastily fish your phone out to put an end to the obnoxious noise. Scanning the text, you read that your mom is asking where you went, as the cake for your dad’s birthday is going to be cut soon. You sigh as you text, “I’m hurrying back now.”

That’s all you see before you feel a slight brush tickle your bare shoulder. Your eyes don’t dare move from your phone screen. You reason that it’s not someone you know, as they would have said something to you. Your hands shake as you put your phone back in your purse.

“Oh, sorry,” the voice trails off as he continues to walk down the hallway after he brushed up against you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, without turning around, which is admittedly ridiculous.

As soon as you can judge his footsteps are far away enough, you make a quick glance behind to see if it really was him. And judging by the navy blue suit, it was.

Suddenly, the golden montage flows through your mind once more, showing an image of yourself wearing an old shirt of his, maybe one from when he was in high school for whatever sport he played, if he played one. Your feet feel the coolness of the wooden floor of the supposed home. The home both of you share? It’s so tangible, so real that you almost reach out to touch it. It’s right there...

Your head jerks yourself out of the vision once more, or rather the fact that you’re now faced with a white wall in front of you. You sigh a long frustrated sigh. I can’t believe I really walked by the entrance, how embarrassing, you think as you turn on your heels to backtrack. Why does this stranger have you so wrapped around his finger? No one else has been able to even come close to doing that. You feel your face with your hand, and it’s burning. I’ll go in there looking like a tomato, it’s fine.

You do your best to quite literally shake off those thoughts as you push open the dining room hall door. “There you are!” your mom says. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on, we’re going to sing happy birthday to Dad.”

“Can’t wait,” you beam. After all, your dad only turns 50 once, and this night is about him, afterall. You follow your mom to a table with a white tablecloth resting on it.

Stella pops out from behind your dad to approach you and whispers, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You resist the urge to gently shove her in front of everyone. “Yes,” you pleadingly insist, “now stop asking me in front of Mom and Dad, they’ll think something is wrong.”

She side eyes you with an attitude. “Fine.”

“They’re my girls,” your dad says with a smile.

You and Stella laugh while leaning into him for a quick hug. “Hey dad,” you both say in unison.

The room completely dies down, people could hear a pin drop. “Ready?” your mom asks the guests. The room takes a collective deep breath.

And so the melody of Happy Birthday rings joyously through the hall, you can see the mystery stranger out of the corner of your eye. Heat radiates off your skin, it’s almost like you can feel his eyes boring into you. It takes all the willpower you can muster, but you resist the temptation to look over at him all throughout the song.

When the song is over, the room breaks out into obnoxiously loud clapping. You, Stella, and your parents share loving looks and warm smiles.

Eventually, everyone proceeds to return to normal chatter at the one rectangular table of two that they’re sitting at, and so do you, Stella and your parents.

You pull out your seat next to your sister near the middle of the middle of the table and sit, fixing your dress.

“Ahem,” Stella says in an ill attempt to cover her suspiciousness with a clearing throat noise. Queue whatever accusatory question she’s got.

“Let me just set something straight,” she starts.

“Go for it,” you say as you reach for some water.

“It’s definitely that guy a few seats down, isn’t it?” She smirks. She’s got you trapped in her little web, and she knows it.

You may or may not have fought back choking on your water or pulling a ridiculous spit take on the nice white table cloth.

You lean in and harshly whisper, “Well you didn’t have to say it that loudly.” You glance over at the mystery stranger and see his hand wrapped around his glass as he goes to drink it. He has a thick silver ring on his pointer finger?

“Hello?” Stella shifts her head to selfishly cut off your view of him.

“Okay,” you sigh in defeat, “yes it’s him. Happy?”

“Very,” she says, very satisfied because she finally pried it out of you and got you to admit it. Someone else has you wrapped around their finger. She didn’t even have to know all the details of the montages to know. She could tell by the way your eyes glossed over and how your lips would slightly part like you were in a hazy daydream.

And you were.

“Who is he anyway? And why don’t we know him?” You ask.

“I don’t know, honestly. A little strange, isn’t it? Why don’t you ask mom who he is?” She suggests, but her cheshire smile suggests that she will somehow find out, with or without your mom’s help.

“But mom’s going to absolutely harass me until I say something to him. Just you on my tail is enough,” you say with an eyebrow raised as to say ‘don’t test me.’ And Stella knows you’re right.

“Alright, fine,” she concedes, “But why don’t you, I don’t know, talk to him?”

“I did,” you nonchalantly float.

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an “O” from disbelief. Did you really not talk to people that much?

“Really?” she practically squeals.

“Yeah, he brushed by me and said, ‘Sorry’ so I said, ‘It’s okay.’” Okay, now you get why your friends and family get mad at you for refusing to talk to people. But cracking this joke was one you could not pass up.

Her face scrunches up and she exhibits the biggest eye roll you have ever seen. She opens her mouth to start saying something, probably to scold at you, but you open your mouth to cut her off first.

“Alright no, I haven’t. And do you know why?” As you’re about to get your thought out, you’re interrupted by a fit of laughter down the stretch of the table. Your eyes scan but freeze on the stranger, whose nose is adorably scrunched up as he laughs with multiple, yes multiple, people about goodness knows what. And there’s that other blonde that you still don’t know, laughing with him. You tear your stare away and focus back on your sister.

“Look, that right there. That’s why,” you say, anger burning through your chest.

Stella raises an eyebrow in her own judgemental manner. “He talks to people? You know people do that right?”

Now it’s your turn to return the favor of a judgemental eye roll. “No, Stella, I mean just look at him and the people he’s surrounded by. It’s so obvious that everyone wants him. Just look at that girl with him. I’m not the only one who wants to love him.”

Silence ensues between you two. She picks up her phone and shoots a quick text. After a moment she says, “Well, I think if you just talked to him, you’d be pleasantly surprised with what could happen. I have to help mom with distributing gift bags. You stay here,” she instructs.

You can only assume you’re not being called to help because Stella graciously told your mom that you’re potentially working up the courage to talk to someone that’s not one of your three friends or your family. How generous of her.

A few friends of your dad stop by your seat to say goodbye before they head out. The noise slightly dies down enough to scarcely hear some other conversations. You hear nothing out of the ordinary, just a girl talking about getting into her dream school to some guy. Your ears slightly move as you pick up on a voice that sounds like the one in the hallway earlier.

“Yeah dude, but did you see the fake out on the goalie on the second goal? That had to have been the best part.”

Out of instinct you open your mouth to interject, but quickly shut it and put it under lock and key. You blink in disbelief. Hockey? Did this man just speak on hockey?

You circle the rim of the coffee cup and stare at the brown liquid. In a different universe…

In a different universe you would have actually kept your mouth open, and maybe even squeezed some words out, too.

“Actually, that seamless stretch pass down the neutral zone from the defenseman after a pretty difficult forecheck set up the play pretty well. I’d give him a lot of credit, too.”

He’d probably look a little shocked, as do most guys when you interject your two-sense about hockey. But maybe he’d break out into a small smile and offer a rebuttal. Yeah, that sounds nice. Maybe one day…

Maybe one day you’ll be sitting next to him on the couch, watching a game while cuddling and brushing the hair out of his face. Oh who are you kidding, you’ll be up and screaming at the TV. It’s your staple.

A noise of someone dropping something behind you slightly startles you and pulls you out of your once again golden daydream. You finally stop mindlessly circling the rim of your coffee cup to take a sip, but only to find it’s now ice cold.

This is why you hate looking through a pair of rose colored glasses. It distracts you from enjoying things. You glance over at your dad who’s still talking to one of his good friends that lingered after festivities. You’re supposed to be celebrating him right now, but instead you’re literally stuck in this cursedly pure golden daydream that is almost too good to break.

You can see him. He’s still there, at the end of the table, chatting away with some dude. The blonde left at some point, though.

“Well, I gotta head out, man, good to see you. My sister needs help with packing her stuff for college tomorrow, so we’ve got a busy day coming up.”

Could that girl have been his sister?

“Congratulations to her on getting into her dream school by the way,” the guy says. “I talked to her when she was here earlier, and she seemed super excited.”

A wave of cool relief washes over your body, remembering the conversation about college you picked up on earlier. It was his sister.

“Yeah she is, she worked really hard, and it also involved a whole lot of crying,” he chuckles.

Ain’t that right, you think to yourself.

The table shakes as he pushes out of his chair. Your eyes remain glued to your coffee cup no matter how much you want them to move. You just can’t gather the courage to say something, and you’re cursing yourself for it. You don’t want to sit here and dream about him anymore. You want to actually let these things happen, for once. You want to just unleash all these swirling and sickeningly sweet emotions from your body and drown him in it. You want so badly to leap up and say something, anything. Step on those voices taunting you and mocking you saying that it could never happen, it could never be so it will never be. He’s so inviting that you can’t resist any longer. You go to reach out to him, but the door shuts before you know it.

And just as fleeting as he came,

He’s gone.

Fuck. It feels as though a brick is sitting on your chest, suffocating you. You really let your worries control you, and this time it feels as though you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. You just can’t believe you let it happen when your mind was begging you to talk to him. You always do-

“Shit,” you mumble. In your frustration, you knocked over the remnants of the coffee onto the not-so-white-anymore table cloth. Tears prickle up in your eyes, your throat closes, and your nose begins to sting. You quickly swallow these emotions down your throat and begin to use a napkin to soak up the excess coffee. Drinks have really not been your friend tonight.

For the first time, you notice as you clean that it’s just you left in the room, besides a few people cleaning up on the other end. You’re not sure where your family has gone, but you haven’t received any texts prompting you to leave yet. It’s so silent that you can hear some muffled chatter down the hall.

Suddenly, you hear the same creak of the door open with an “oof” that doesn’t quite sound like your dad. Your blood runs cold and you freeze mid press into the tablecloth. You glance up without turning around to see a lone jacket hanging on a chair suspiciously close to the chair he previously sat in. Your eyes widen and dart around the room, but you dare not move, waiting to see what he does. Even after cursing yourself out for ten minutes while cleaning up spilled coffee, you still haven’t learned to make the first move. His presence feels like a forcefield, you can feel it heavily pressing into your back.

But he isn’t moving to grab the jacket, no.

A pointer finger with a silver ring taps your shoulder.

“Hey,” the clarity of his voice rings in your ears like a bell. Your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage and run its own 10k. You slowly crank your head around to meet his eyes for the first time-- face to face.

And you must say, his face is really pretty when you actually talk to him face to face. Maybe you should do this more often. You take in his golden features, and struggle to hide a small smirk creeping up on your face. His messy hair falls perfectly into place on his head, and his kind face makes you feel as though a mess of metallic gold swirls are playfully swirling and dashing around you both. You’ve found him in this lifetime.

“I’m Mat, can I help you clean up before I grab my jacket?”

[purgatoryandme]

Hi, I fell in love with Illuminate Me, mostly because I'm a huge poetry fan, but I don't know a lot of poetry--you have such a way of pulling quotes and with words, I was wondering if you had a collection of favorite poems or quotes or works of literature and how you have such a wide breadth of knowledge of literature? Thanks, and thank you for sharing your work with us!

Hi! I'm so happy you enjoyed IM and that it's such a hit with poetry/classics lovers! I've got a few asks already answered with a literature list, some inspiration lit pieces, and inspiration lit for specific characters under the IM tag, but I don't think I've said anything specifically about poetry in detail yet.

I don't have any specific collection that's a favourite, but I do have poets whose imagery agrees with me more than anyone else's. These are the ones that are usually on the top of my head: I love Baudelaire for his religious imagery and overall use of symbolism (Les Fleurs Du Mal is a good collection despite me saying I don't have any fave). Yeats is a deeply talented poet, though a very hateable man, whose poetry tends to be self-referential is a delightful way. There's a certain breathlessness to it - clearly a man fascinated by the world around him. Poetic epics own my whole heart - The Odyssey, the Iiliad, the Aenid, Beowolf, the Divine Comedy, Paradise Lost and more. There's something about longform narrative poetry that is just deeply satisfying to read and connect with. The Wasteland is an excellent piece, though difficult to get into because it is EXTREMELY reference heavy. "April is the cruelest month" is a line that is forever and always stuck in my head. What an opener! How chilling! William Ernest Henley's poetry has this iron-willed spirit to it that calls to me on a personal level, and his use of meter and rhyme is just...good. It's so good. I'd recommend looking for concentration camp poetry if you're interested in history and the development of poetry as a form of resistance, healing, and speech. Fascinating stuff - I know in one of the linked asks I rec a book on it. The translated works of Jalaluddin Rumi is lyrical and measured and has such an amazing grasp of symbolism and the divine. The thing about translation is you have to poke around a fair bit to find something that balances honest translation with keeping the original feeling/meter/rhyming scheme of the original. Anything King Arthur related! I love me a good historical mythos!

My mother has a collection of illuminated world classics that I was pretty obsessed with as a kid. She kept them in this amazing walnut wood cabinet my grandfather made and I couldn't reach any of the books lol. They were shiny and gold and were full of translated poetic epics, plays, and cornerstone literature. I've always enjoyed classics for the referential aspects even if I wasn't a fan of the actual contents pretty often - it's cool to see how they shaped literature today - and admittedly some of my love was formed out of spite against the recommended reading curriculum. I loved English in elementary and high school (especially poetry - I used to be deranged about Shel Silverstein), but didn't pursue it further for my education because I didn't enjoy the overtly structured nature of interpretation you're forced into and, well...science was my second love, and the one that I moved on with. However, whenever I wanted a break from scientific academia, I used to go into the old arts library on my campus, go through the book stacks where nobody usually hung out, and pull interesting titles on historical and cultural literature.

To give more detail than I have before and to keep replies fresh: originally I was going to write a different story and Illuminate Me was just a tester fic. I was inspired to use classical literature quotes in it (before I had much of a plot fleshed out for it at all beyond "Space" and "Extremis" and "post-Siberia") after going through a classical Japanese poetry collection about moon watching so I could find a very particular phrase to use in ANOTHER fic (that I never actually wound up using the phrase in lmao). Going through the classical archives and struggling SO HARD to remember what exactly I wanted out of the symbolism got me mulling over examples of the kind of feeling I was going for, which brought me back to Eliot Kermode's "The Shudder" essay, and then I was back down the rabbit hole of all the classics I've ever loved and, in particular, that one line from Paradise Lost.

All in all, I wouldn't say I'm particularly well-read, but I would say I'm particularly stubborn about freedom of interpretation and the layered referential aspects of poetry! I like what I like, and I think was makes any good reader or writer is just that: you like what you like, and while you might learn to build on it, you shall not be swayed from what's in your heart. Have fun! Explore! Check out historical pieces and see how they sweeten more modern works, how slam poetry entirely evades a lot of classical convention for something raw and punchy, and bounce between dainty flowered depictions of love to tortured depictions of the divine and back again. Keep quotes that call to you close to your heart, and freely remove them from their context as you will, and go crazy. That's how you make love AND your research abilities fluorish!

[marshmallowprotection]

Okay W O W

Just gonna write here about all of my thoughts on the last chapter of Gardenia, et tu Polaris, because... Holly molly did you make me feel things 💀 I read the whole thing like 2 in the morning and just couldn't stop until I got through to the end jjfiydtuf

I needed some time to put all of my thoughts together because I was just an emotional mess by the end of it 😭

Okay, so, first of all? Saeran and Gardenia are two precious sweethearts and I just want them to be happy together (╥﹏╥) Now I can't wait for the scene where they find out about Saeran being an angel, and I can just imagine them looking at him with absolute awe and adoration as he shows them his form for the first time. And then they just start swooning over his wings and how beautiful they are and how lovely they look on him (╥﹏╥) (yes I'm a sucker for wings sorry jkgxfy) Reading their story was so precious yet heart wrenching because of their unfortunate circumstances... And finally seeing his thoughts on his situation in heaven just made my heart hurt, please let someone hold him and appreciate him for the amazing being he is (-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩___-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩)

Secondly, KAIT I CAN'T EVEN PUT INTO WORDS HOW MUCH THAT SCENE WITH SAEYOUNG'S FALL HURT MY VERY SOUL

The sheer tragedy and brutality of that event was absolutely heartbreaking to read through... I just want these boys to be happy together agh :') It's like I was put into Saeran's shoes at that moment and... God, that was excruciating

Thirdly, I had no idea that I could fall even deeper in love with Polaris, yet, here I am ✋ They are such a charismatic character, and that just makes you root for them more and more the deeper that you go. I absolutely adore how headstrong and determined they are in their ideals, like, yes, you go sweetie!!! And that confrontation with God (or Saejoon if you know what I mean 👀👀👀) was so suspenseful! There was no physical action and chaos around them, yet, you could just feel the pressure of this situation.

So, in conclusion, I am shook

...and I just want for all of these characters to be happy (╥﹏╥)

Hehe! Yeah, it was 11K!

I'm happy that you think so! Saeran and Gardenia have a very strong bond in this story but you don't get to see the depth until it hits you at just the right moment. Angel Saeran has... a lot of struggles in his life. He's always feeling like he's never good enough, that he's not the angel that they need him to be, and that he's a failure. He deals with that a lot, and Gardenia is the first one that makes him feel good if he thinks about what he's doing. He enjoys caring for them. They make him smile and laugh.

They're a good human and Saeran can't help but be smitten with you, his precious human that just wants to see the flowers. I can't say a lot about their future since it's spoilers but... hang on tight, you'll see the outcome soon enough. Secrets don't stay secrets forever.

I did say a long time ago that Saeran and Saeyoung weren't ready for what was coming and this is what I meant. This is the chapter that I was talking about because I knew it was going to hurt. They hadn't gotten a chance to live happily... they'd been wrenched apart, and the little brother had to watch the older brother have his wings gored from his spine before he was pushed over the edge down into the pits of hell.

I tried to hold back on some of the imagery here because it was... really messy and dark in my head. But, if it still stunned you, that means I added just enough to make that picture clear. It hurt me, but I've written a lot of things in this story that hurt. Well, you'll see, like I said. Saeran leaning over the edge of Heaven with tears in his eyes while Saeyoung is falling, bloodied and gored, smiling at him as this may be the last time they meet.

Ouch.

Polaris is headstrong! They're so fun for me to write about because they believe in doing good and doing right, but they also aren't afraid to say that these laws are bullshit. God is Saejoong, by the way. I was trying to make that abundantly clear by describing God as having a form with golden eyes and brown hair. I could've used any of those parents in Mystic Messenger as God, but it felt right for this version of God to be Saejoong. You can tell why in the chapter because he's such a prick, you know?

Hopefully... happily ever after will come someday.

[lunlumo]

ESC 2021 vs ESC 2022

I'm curious and this is a notebook now

Slogan + logo - 2021 with clear Open up (already) and those colorful shards? Strips? Pie charts? instead of this dull green mist we have on thumbnails now, Sound of beauty sounds...nice I guess

Sheer excitement - 2021 we missed 2020 and we needed that, party at 20% capacity, Iceland and Duncan celebrating from their rooms hehehehe, hopefully this thing will be over soon....fast forward one year and yeah...not great folks

Transition of winners (how we feel when the last year's winner has to pass "the torch") 2021 Duncan in isolation "meets" Maneskin who kiss, yell, stomp and light the world on fire. I see noone who could steal the spotlight from them this year, it's impossible, they gonna look dumb next to them, my condolences (except maybe Norway because they are yellow wolves? Or dogs? Woofs?, even maneskin can't top that)

Organization how do u give points for something not yet organized - shhh listen, 2022 Italians struggle with English correct? Also money problems. Also Italians. Rotterdam was amazing and well-put but 0 chaos, I like chaos, Turin please don't dissapoint NOT THAT MUCH CHAOS 2021

Bonus category - Big 5 earning that place in the final - 2022 Italy and France usually understand the asignment but it's nice to see UK and Germany in decent light, also Spain, Chanel is everything, it's like ever since doo it for you lOoVeEeRrRr Spain is cursed to be forgotten but that's about to change :)

🇦🇱 2022 strongly

🇦🇲 hey 2022 because they're here again ;)

🇦🇺 2021 because I love Montaigne, also her 2020 clown + 2021 couldn't leave country combo

🇦🇹 2022

🇦🇿 2021, not out yet but Efendi wins in my heart sorry (edit: aaand they didn't deliver anyway)

🇧🇪 will listen and get back to it (edit: still no clue about Belgium for everything after 2016)

🇧🇬 2021

🇭🇷 2021, still salty because she didn't qualify for the final

🇨🇾 I would say 2021 but I have to listen 2022 song, I heard it's good (edit 2022 ela ela elaaa)

🇨🇿 2022

🇩🇰 you could've had fuld effekt and it would be easy +1 point, but since you didn't...this spot remains empty actually

🇪🇪 2022

🇫🇮 2021

🇫🇷 2021? Fulenn might be my favorite at the moment but Voila was beautiful so there

🇬🇪 2020 for georgia

🇩🇪 look listen 2021 I like the lyrics to rockstars but that silly little I don't feel hate ~ followed by 0 points is stuck in my head forever

🇬🇷 I have to get back to this one as well, I'm so behind (edit: 2022 strongly)

🇮🇸 2021 (and 2020 and 2019) I've shuffled through entire NF Playlist and nothing compares unfortunately

🇮🇪 I dunno actually, both are what I like to call "radio songs", 2022 because I really want to give 2022 a chance

🇮🇱 2021 even if it was called Set me free during you-know-what (which is still going on god everything is terriblec)

🇮🇹 2021 obv also Soldi > Brividi

🇱🇻 2021

🇱🇹 2021 also stuck in my head rent free for Lithuania spot, sorry

🇲🇹 2021

🇲🇩 2021 2022

🇲🇪 2022 welcome back

🇳🇱 2022

🇲🇰 2022

🇳🇴 2022

🇵🇱 2022

🇵🇹 not chosen yet but nothing stuck out to me from NF anyway and neither did Black Mamba (besides black and white imagery) (edit: 2022 I guess)

🇷🇴 2021 2022

Manizha my dear 2021

🇸🇲 2021 Senhit deserved better

🇷🇸 2022??? It's growing on me, I like both tho

🇸🇮 I don't know, neither? Both? No strong opinions here folks (2022 I guess, it's something)

🇪🇸 2022 yessss

🇸🇪 not decided yet but Voices > Melodi 2022 Playlist so 2021 cornelia sat down barefoot in from of giant green circle and told me personally that I was wrong, therefore 2022

🇨🇭 2021

🇺🇦 2021, both fit into the same category of traditional with a modern twist but Shum did it better

🇬🇧 2022

In conclusion 2021 > 2022 at least for me

Not feeling it yet but maybe that will change around May

Also no strong winner vibes yet, Brividi is alright for me, Ukraine is fine (I'm hoping they won't need "pity votes" by half of May because they will be peaceful and stable and happy by that point...), I like Fulenn but it's not a winning song in my head??? Give that wolf a banana is so entertaining but victory-level entertaining, not sure. And most songs are out already, I doubt a strong contender is going to show up in next couple of days

BOY WAS I WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING

Also 2022 accumulated more points in the end than 2021

[catypus]

Okay I hope this isn't bothering you but I've been obsessed with this for a while now- akaashi x reader but she's dying young and she's never seen the snow and wanted to see the world and Akaashi being the compassionate person he is, he plans to take her traveling and to show her all the seasons in other places before she can't anymore-🥺😭 idk ive been obsessed with this idea since FOREVER 🥺👉👈

a | n : aww it’ll never be a bother!! thank you for sending in your request and waiting, we were really busy at that time but hope you like it <3

pairings: akaashi x dying!reader

genre: angsty huhu :”)))

warnings: implied death

© all content belongs to catypus 2020. do not modify or repost.

the four phases of grief (through the seasons)

when it’s you and me, it feels like nothing can tear us down; nothing can tear us apart

  - phase I; shock and numbness -

Time becomes a finite measure only when your days are set.

Others at your age are going out, exploring their futures, just setting foot into an unknown world and you? Get the better half of 1 year thrown at your feet and told, “here make what you will of it”

But how can you?

The words of the doctor echoes in your head, rattling your thoughts and making them dance about until nothing is coherent anymore.

It feels empty.

Like everything has lost its colour, its flavour.

But when he hugs you,

when he lets you cry it out on his shoulder,

when he cups your face and leaves a sweet kiss on your lips and whispers to you,

“my love, I'm here, I'll give you the best life”,

you can’t help but feel a miniscule tinge better.

That the love of your life, will remain a constant until the very end.

akaashi keiji, you’re one hell of a guy

The next day, he springs a surprise trip to Greece.

You could hardly believe the words as they left his lips.

“pack what you need, we leave at the end of the week”

“I’ve already called ahead to your work, you don’t have to worry about that”

And that’s how a week later you found yourselves on the windswept limestone cliffs of Santorini, gazing upon the tops of the notable blue and white architecture.

In the midst of the white-washed buildings, casted golden by the setting sun, Keiji tightens his grip on your hand.

A silent promise.

One that you treasure closest to your heart as the sun disappears beneath the horizon, bringing the day to a close.

 at the end, doesn’t everyone just want closure ?

 - phase ii; yearning and searching -

It's that time of the year where everything starts shriveling up and dying as the temperature takes a dip for the lower end of the thermostat.

And before you know it, you too will shrivel up and die

it’s a never leaving trail of negativity; one that only festers and broils as the autumn leaves scatter at the touch of the cold breeze.

That day, Keiji brings home a new beanie and shoves it snugly over your head, tightly bundling your hair until it frays out. He lets out a low chuckle.

You pout at him, attempting to uncover your eyes so you can see him properly and get your hair in place, when all you see are two plane tickets to Ontario.

He smiles softly at you, watching at your expression.

You meet his gaze quietly, staring into his eyes.

His eyes that hold hope for you.

You both know by now that the prospect of extending your deadline is out of the question. You’ve taken more sick days and the monthly reviews have slowly transitioned into fortnightly ones.

Yet he holds so much emotion for you, so many wishes that you will be happy, with him. Even until the very end.

You grasp his hand, in which he holds the tickets.

“when do we leave?”

The mist rising from the falls breaks the sunlight and forms a slender arc of a rainbow above the crest of the waterfall.

Against the backdrop of the hues of orange, red and yellow, the colours of autumn have never looked more stunning.

The two of you stand there, at the outlook over the edge of the falls, watching the miniscule silhouettes of other tourists on board the boats as they view Niagara Falls from a different perspective.

Maybe it’s about the perspective.

Maybe it’s not that you have less than a year left.

Maybe it’s that you have the rest of the year to love Keiji.

That you have the rest of the year to get your forever with him.

As you link hands and slowly tread through the park, leaves crunching at your feet, he suddenly stops.

“my love, can i get a picture of you?”

As much as he’d never forget your smile, he thought to himself, if he could capture even a shred of your beauty, he’d be forever thankful.

As you stood there, amidst the falling leaves, adjusting your beanie, he thinks you’ve never looked more gorgeous.

 and as we stand here together, in this instant, it’s as if time is standing still, bearing witness to our love

 - phase iii; disorganisation and despair -

 The beauty of a small island in the middle of winter, covered by blankets of glistening white snow.

A fleeting moment, where the frosty wind nips at your cheeks as the ferry slows to a halt, docking at the jetty.

Clasping your gloved hand in his, he gently leads the way, weaving through the crowd.

As you set foot on the ground and take in the view, you realise that no image on google can compare to seeing it in real life.

In days gone by, you fawned over the picturesque landscape and imagery of Nami Island in South Korea.

Especially in the heart of winter, where many others have taken their own recreations of photos out of a K-drama.

“keiji, baby look- “,

As you would show him a sample image of a wedding photoshoot, the couple staring lovingly in each other’s eyes with the tall Maple trees bearing witness to their love.

The same tall Maple trees that you and him now stand before.

In the subtle shadows, casted by the barren trees, he graces your lips with a kiss.

Which turned into another.

And another.

Before he pulls back slightly, leaning his forehead against yours, eyes closed, just basking in each other’s company.

Softly swaying with the cold wind, he pulls something out of his pocket.

That in which he links around your neck.

When you lean back and look down at your collar, there sits a simple but elegant rose gold chain, to which a pendant is attached to.

And on the pendant, is your anniversary date.

The day that you said yes to being his best friend, his confidante, the love of his life.

Suddenly, you feel very warm.

Your face heats up and tears fall from your eyes before you even notice it.

“keiji, I’m sorry.”

“what for, baby?”

“i’m sorry for whatever’s going to happen after.”

 fate fortold that we would meet, so now my love, what’s the rush?

 - phase iv; reorganisation and recovery -

 The cold winds have blown, now the warm days are returning.

Looking out the window, the green fields rush past as the Shinkansen speedily heads for Sapporo.

Clenching your fingers tighter, you look down at where Keiji’s fingers hold on to yours just as tightly.

One last time.

Slowly but surely, strolling down the pathway, watching as high school couples bask in the bright glow of the pink hues of this season.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that you and Keiji linked arms and sat under the cherry blossoms.

Youth.

As you both sat on the bench, his arms tightly wound across your shoulder, he recalls how all those years ago, as he wiped the corner of your mouth of cream from the daifuku you were eating, he first told you those three words.

“i love you.”

“until forever and the day after that”

He pulls out his phone, your ever-beautiful face smiling back at him from under those autumn leaves in Canada.

The bench beside him has never felt emptier as he places one hand over his chest, the cold metal of the pendant pressing painfully against his heart.

It’s been a year.

A flower bud drops on his shoulder.

He remembers your expressions, the amazement you gave the first time you saw him do a snow angel, the contentment when he had kissed you under the maple trees. The love in your eyes that never wavered a single time.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, before shakily letting it out.

I miss you.

 even when the seasons change, our love will forever remain the same.

[bubonickitten]

i'm so happy you got into tma!! i've always enjoyed seeing you write meta posts for dragon age, so seeing you write meta for tma is such a treat! thank you for your words! i hope you have a lovely day :)

Thanks!! it’s been awhile since I’ve written meta for anything, I forgot how much I liked it. Once I realized how emotionally invested I was getting in the characters, I should’ve known I’d end up having to make a dedicated TMA meta tag. 

And not to be dramatic of anything, but TMA really is a masterpiece of horror imo. I like horror, but it’s always a minefield because so much of horror really does (sometimes unintentionally, sometimes not) employ some really awful racist, ableist, etc. tropes, or rely on sexual violence or hate violence as a narrative device without making any critical commentary on those subjects. So sometimes there’s a horror story that has a neat premise, but then it’s so saturated with unnecessary and harmful tropes that I just end up feeling alienated and frustrated. 

Even a lot of supernatural horror falls back on Lovecraft, and a lot of people don’t realize how racist and xenophobic his works really are. admittedly, there are some cool, more recent transformative works that reappropriate Lovecraft into something new (e.g. some stuff in the New Weird genre), but sometimes people just grab the aesthetic without knowing its roots. And I get it, it’s a cool aesthetic, I love monsters and tentacles and things that slumber in the deep and the dark -- it just ends up being bad when people aren’t conscious of what Lovecraft was actually saying. which, I know, is how tropes work sometimes -- creators reuse tropes because they’re so salient in fiction, but sometimes the roots are really horrible and we just don’t know the history, and horror is a genre that is really susceptible to that. 

Getting off topic -- what I mean is, I really think Jonny Sims is a brilliant writer and this is one of my favorite horror stories I’ve come across. He’s a master at character development and foreshadowing. I’m on my third time listening through and there’s just so much detail that I didn’t notice on my first listen, so many thematic elements and parallels and keywords that he snuck in from the very first few episodes that become so important later. It starts out as having a horror anthology vibe, with really brilliant short stories embedded in a larger framework, but then you realize that every single one of those stories is connected to the larger metaplot. 

I joke about Jonathan Archivist Sims and his conspiracy corkboard thinking, but I’m really sitting here listening with my own conspiracy corkboard during each episode -- sometimes reading too far into things, sometimes not, but damn is it enjoyable to try to pick apart the web (so to speak). 

I think it’s incredible how well Jonny Sims manages to pull all those strings together. It’s partly because he had the whole plot mapped out before they even recorded episode one, but it’s impressive to me, because I always have trouble following through on a story -- I’m not good at being decisive or consistent with my writing, I’m always changing my mind and losing the threads of what I was originally trying to do, and honestly most of the time I don’t have an end in mind anyway, so I end up giving up on things too early. 

One of the other things I appreciate is just... how compassionate Jonny is when writing his characters. One of my biggest complaints about Dragon Age was always that I felt like certain characters weren’t written with real compassion and weren’t given a chance to grow and so much of their potential was wasted. Jonny Sims, otoh, puts his characters in some dark, painful situations, which can be heartwrenching and anxiety-inducing to listen to (especially when it’s characters I relate to), but he also allows them to grow and change throughout the story, and that adds to their complexity. Even the characters I hate, I can still wrap my head around their motives. Without giving away too many spoilers for anyone who hasn’t listened and wants to eventually, the Big Bad is repulsive in every way but his motives are so realistic and emblematic of real world horrors like imperialism, Machiavellianism, totalitarianism, and a willingness to abuse, manipulate, groom, and oppress others for self-profit. 

Jonny Sims manages to utilize common fears, horrors, and phobias to present some really clever and thoroughly unsettling short stories. Even the ones that explore a fear that I don’t personally have make my skin crawl -- he’s just that good at descriptive imagery and conveying psychological horror. And a lot of the episodes also have social commentary (which is a hallmark of good fantasy, sci-fi, and horror for me) -- sometimes it’s subtle, but then sometimes he comes out with these episodes that knock the wind out of you. Especially the most recent episodes. He comes right out of the gate sometimes with a treatise on war or institutional violence or xenophobia and it’s... well, it’s powerful. 

And, god, I could write forever about how this story deals with the question of what it means to be human in the most horrific of circumstances -- what choices we make, what we are versus what we do, whether we grow or stagnate, the importance of human connection and trust and love even (and especially) when the world seems against you. The potential for character studies is... oof, I want to write an entire essay.

You know those books that are like, “The Philosophy of [Fiction Story]”? Oh, I am so tempted to write a full essay on the philosophical concepts presented in TMA. Especially existentialism, lmao. “What use is a philosophy minor?” people asked. Apparently the answer is, “Spend time during quarantine writing a treatise on existential philosophy in a horror-tragedy podcast I binged within a week and now can’t shut up about, because it’s been nine years since I had a philosophy class and I forgot how much I enjoyed pointlessly navel gazing about the nature of existence.”

I’ll shut up now. TL;DR if anyone wants to ramble at me about TMA, chances are I’ll be excited to respond. I’m having trouble focusing on creative writing right now, and I think my hype over this podcast might be helping me with writer’s block a little bit. 

[tuesdayscanons]

BOLD WHAT APPLIES: It Won't Be Soon Before Long [Part 1]

( Warning: Contains NSFW themes and graphic imagery)

Rules: bold what always applies to your muse, italicize what applies sometimes or partially, and strike out what never applies.

Tagged by: I made this meme lol

Tagging: Anyone who wants to!

If I Never See Your Face Again: 

Now as the summer fades, I let you slip away//You say I'm not your type, but I can make you sway//It makes you me burn to learn, you're I'm not the only one//I'd let you be if you put down your blazing gun//Now you've gone somewhere else, far away//I don't know if I will find you //But you feel my breath, on your neck//Can't believe I'm right behind you //'Cause you keep me coming back for more//And I feel a little better than I did before//And if I never see your face again, I don't mind//'Cause we gone much further than I thought we'd get tonight//Sometimes you move so well//It's hard not to give in//I'm lost, I can't tell where you end and I begin//It makes you burn to learn I'm with another man//I wonder if he's half the lover that I am//Baby, baby, please believe me//Find it in your heart to reach me//Promise not to leave me behind//Take me down, but take it easy//Make me think but don't deceive me//Torture me by taking your time

Makes Me Wonder:

I wake up, with blood-shot eyes//Struggled to memorize//The way it felt between your thighs//Pleasure that made you cry//Feels so good to be bad//Not worth the aftermath, after that//Try to get you back//I still don't have the reason//And you don't have the time//And it really makes me wonder if I ever gave a fuck about you//Give me something to believe in//'Cause I don't believe in you anymore//I wonder if it even makes a difference to try//So this is goodbye//God damn, my spinning head//Decisions that made my bed//Now I must lay in it and deal with things I left unsaid//I want to dive into you//Forget what you're going through//I get behind; make your move//Forget about the truth//And you told me how you're feeling//But I don't believe it's true anymore//I wonder if it even makes a difference to cry//I've been here before//One day I'll wake up and it won't hurt anymore//You caught me in a lie//I have no alibi//The words you say don't have a meaning

Little of Your Time:

I'm sick of picking the pieces and second-guessing my reasons why you don't trust me//Why must we do this to one another?//We are just passionate lovers with trouble under the covers//Nothing worse than when you know that it's over//I just need a little of your time to say the words I never said//I just need a little of your time to show you that I am not dead//Please don't leave, stay in bed//Touch my body instead//Gonna make you feel it//Can you still feel it?//Well, I've got nothing to hide//Dip down and come for a ride//I'm a racy devil, so sly//You cannot hear him coming//'Cause my defenses are weak//I have no breath left to speak//So take the evidence and bury it somewhere//Oh my, I don't mind being the other guy//Nice try, for these games I do not have the time//If you want me, call me//Come and take a risk kiss//Leave somewhere deep under the surface

Wake Up Call:

I didn't hear what you were saying//I live on raw emotion, baby//I answer questions, never maybe//And I'm not kind if you betray me//So, who the hell are you to save me?//I never would have made it, babe//If you needed love well, then, ask for love//Could have given love//Now I'm taking love//And it's not my fault//'Cause you both deserve what's coming now//So don't say a word//Wake up call, caught you in the morning with another one in my bed//Don't you care about me anymore?//I don't think so//Six foot tall, came without a warning so I had to shoot him dead//He won't come around here anymore//Would have bled to make you happy//You didn't need to treat me that way//And now you beat me at my own game//And now I'm finally sleeping soundly//And your lover's screaming loudly//I hear a sound and hit the ground//I don't feel so bad//I'm so sorry, darling//Did I do the wrong thing?//Oh, what was I thinking?//Is his heart still beating?

Won't Go Home Without You:

I asked her him to stay, but she wouldn't listen//And she left before I had the chance to say the words that would mend the things that were broken//But now it's far too late; she's gone away//Every night you cry yourself to sleep//Thinking why does this happen to me?//Why does every moment have to be so hard?//Hard to believe that it's not over tonight//Just give me one more chance to make it right//I may not make it through the night//I won't go home without you//The taste of her breath,I'll never get over//The noises that you made kept me awake//The weight of the things that remained unspoken built up so much it crushed us everyday//Of all the things I felt but never really shown, perhaps the worst is that I ever let you go//I should not ever let you go

Nothing Lasts Forever:

It is so easy to see dysfunction between you and me//We must free up these tired souls before the sadness kills us both//I tried and tried to let you know//I love you, but I'm letting go//It may not last, but I don't know//If you don't know, then you can't care//And you show up, but you're not there//But I'm waiting//And you want to//Still afraid that I will desert you//Everyday, with every worthless word we get more far away//The distance between us makes it so hard to stay//But nothing lasts forever; but be honest, babe//It hurts, but it may be the only way//A bed that's warm with memories can heal us temporarily//The misbehaving only makes the ditch between us so damn deep//Built a wall around my heart//I'll never let it fall apart//But, strangely, I wish secretly it would fall down while I'm asleep//Though we have not hit the ground, it doesn't mean we're not still falling//I want so bad to pick you up, but you're still too reluctant to accept my help//What a shame, I hope you find somewhere to place the blame//But until then the fact remains

[whats-the-story-tc]

21st of April, 2020

"The One with the Fairy Tale"

(Pssst! If I were you, I'd read this post first before starting this new one!)

I cannot believe this is my life.

A couple minutes before the 8 AM rush hour, a Google Classroom notification from V arrived. Then another. Someone likes a spam, I thought, before opening the first one.

Sigh of relief. It was only the essay I'd already sent her. On to the next one, the detailed info on what we were covering today. The play on the table is both figuratively and literally a fairy tale. V, pretty critical of the play and its character work itself, made sure to bring one particular monologue to our attention, which tackles a rather difficult topic in a pretty simple play about love and longing — human mortality. "(It's my particular favourite, too, but don't let that influence you.)" She wrote after explaining what it was. The last paragraph though, now that was something else. "For those of you interested in an A level (here you imagine me looking at certain people)" she began, and my eyes widened as I read it. Sure, there are literature buffs in both classes, but... I can't help but think it was first and foremost an indirect to me. I mean, I'm probably the biggest nerd out of all of us, and she's always looking at me anyways... I want to dream big and say she wanted me to see it most. I mean, it's a link to an incredibly long essay. The situation speaks for itself.

"Look at this silence," V said as she entered our server at around 11 AM. Once she was here, we (as in all of us) started chatting about the break and quarantine. "It has been Sunday for two months." I declared, V immediately continuing the thought: "That part of Sunday, no less, where the line between the previous week and the next one blurs." Couldn't have said it better myself.

As V spoke about the story, I just leaned back on my bed, letting myself get immersed in the explanation and the sound of her voice while trying to imagine everything. After a while, it all started sounding like the plot of Mozart's opera, The Magic Flute — especially when V said that our protagonists, a human boy and a fairy girl, both had companions of the same sex along the way. And as soon as she said those companions are actually married, I waited for her to take a tiny break in speaking and said "How surprising." According to Bookworm Friend, she laughed, but I couldn't hear it clearly because someone made a noise. Then she said "Obviously..." and basically shaded the whole plot line, though I don't remember the rest of the sentence. And guess what she brought up immediately? That's right. The Magic Flute. I was floored! "That's what I was thinking, too!" I chimed in immediately. She took the words out of my mouth! And, soon as I said that, I got a text from Bandana Friend.

BanF: "Wow the twinning"

It's official, folks. Even from a distance, V and I are sharing a braincell.

Serious shit went down in class, including pointing out some... very suggestive imagery that caught us all off-guard because the thing she mentioned isn't inherently suggestive, but okay, V, you do you. (Obviously, I'm not going into detail here, nor sharing the conversation Bandana Friend and I had here because... this is simply not the platform.)

But what I can share is a really funny bit that caused a bit of a pandemonium in the separate class chat none of our teachers are in. You see, about half an hour into class, The Boyfriend sneezes with what is probably the volume of a medium-sized family house collapsing. About five seconds of absolute comical silence follows, then we just hear V saying "Sorry. I'm sorry." before carrying on. All this caused quite the stir, featuring texts like:

BanF: "The whole house just quaked"

and

Classmate: "Jesus who was this 😂😂"

Classmate: "Tell me it wasn't [V]"

S: "No, her man"

Classmate: "Good heavens I thought it was her 😂😂"

and

S: "I laughed so hard that I thank God I was on mute"

So yeah. That's on that. Bit later, with the words mentioned here, V ended class, and there I was, on Cloud 9, dancing around my room and humming Disney songs from the sudden serotonin charge. That was probably the moment I decided to read the play V spoke about. You see, she didn't assign it because the wording is quite difficult (the text is quite old) and students usually struggle with it, but she said that we wouldn't lose anything by reading it, if we wanted to. And thus it happened that I sat down on my balcony at around 5 PM with the first chapter open on my phone, ready to read.

I knew she'd be right. I trust her opinion and my reading comprehension skill suffers at the stake of my absolute inability to concentrate for longer than 10 seconds. But guys. Some of the longer sections I had to go over at least three times before I understood what was going on! An hour or so must've passed when I read the last line of the first chapter, and the butterflies in my stomach took flight. It was time to text V about it. It was my original plan, anyway. Figure out how right she was, then tell her about it. I was already incredibly nervous, trying to stick to what I'd planned on writing. My fingers typed on autopilot and as soon as I was done, I could barely believe I was actually going through with this. But alas, you only live once, carpe that fucking diem. One big breath. Two biiiiig breaths.

Send.

S: "Well, Miss, I'm not saying you were right about the text of [the play], but I've only read Chapter 1 and I'm already doubting if I even speak [my native tongue]... 😅"

I immediately tossed the phone on my bed and ran away panicking. What will she say? How will she react to seeing it's me again? What does she think? Am I funny enough? Am I bothering her? When will she reply?

Half a minute later (!!!), I see the icon of The Platform That Shall Not Be Named on my screen. No. No. No. Nonononononono. I picked the phone up and unlocked it with a shaking hand. I was not prepared for what I was about to read.

V: "Hahaha, well, babydoll...You do. You're just not used to [the old-timey wording]."

I only had the time to sink to my knees, eyes wide, lips agape, when the next message followed.

V: "Though, once you're already through it, I'm curious about your opinion on the play's stageability. 😄 (given such a word exists)"

You bet your asses all air left my lungs. Not only did she call me babydoll again, now in a way that I could forever remind myself of it, but she basically just prompted another conversation! She wants to talk to me again! And I'll have you reminded, V's basically trusting my judgement based on the scriptbook I showed her at the dawn of time, that she'd never actually seen in action! I wonder what I did to earn all this trust...

S: "I'll see at the end and tell you :)"

V: "Alright :))"

Then, all brave from the double smiley, I had a really stupid and impulsive thought. (Don't yell.) Me being the little shit that I am, I googled stageability and took a screenshot of no results having been found. I took a screenshot, cropped it and sent it to V, my head being completely empty as I did. I acted purely from gut feeling.

S: "Tough luck this time, it seems😄"

V: "i thought so!"

(I can only hope she took it as a joke. But, the way I know her, she probably understood. Still, the me of right now, exactly two days and two minutes later, wouldn't do it.)

And this is where it ended. This is where I ended. My hands, my legs, even my lips were trembling as I tried to process the sudden load of emotion overcoming me. What did I just do. What did we do. What happened here. All this just echoed in my head, and I went ahead and texted every friend I wanted to tell in all caps.

BanF: "WOAAHHHH"

BanF: "you guys have really warmed up to each other"

Even now, as I was typing, I got the chills just thinking about this conversation. If it wasn't for the 'Miss' and my use of formal pronouns in the very first text, it would've just felt like two friends, who happen to both love literature, talking. And this really warms my heart, because there's this fantastic woman, who I genuinely think is one of the best influences on my life and... she just likes me for me. She immediately answers when she can, comes off genuinely happy to talk to me, prompts another thing I can tell her about and all but tells me that my opinion matters to her. Because this is her. I'm almost convinced that I will never hear her outright say that she likes me or she's proud of me, but, should I have any doubts, she does everything to let me know. I just misunderstand her sometimes, not knowing where to look.

When I tell you all this still doesn't feel real...

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

[taenamseok]

Small droplets ping against the metal bucket that sits in the middle of my living room, slowly filling it up. The landlord refuses to fix the leak in my roof, saying it'd be too expensive. I don't mind it though. Some may think my apartment isn't the greatest. The lack of insulation making it slightly difficult in the winter, but I'm not bothered. I keep many thick blankets in my house, so when it gets cold, I get to bundle up in them to stay warm. I also have a large window in my kitchen that faces the street. This is where I sit, watching the rain pour down outside, splashing on the pavement. Few people pass by, their colorful umbrellas adding beauty to the dull grey surroundings. I think of the water, how far it must've travelled just to fall onto my street. The rivers and oceans it must've flown through, the wonders it could've touched.

Life is beautiful

I carry my mother's frail body from the couch to her bed, empty bottles clinking as my foot bumps them. I've been doing this since I was fifteen. My father was gone before I was born, and my mother hadn't taken it well, drowning in alcohol. I've never once seen her sober. Through my childhood, I didn't even see her that much. She worked so many jobs to keep us alive, she was rarely home. Whenever she was home, she yelled at me or hit me whenever she looked at me, saying I looked too much like my father. I always hid in the closet with a flashlight, reading books that I got from the school library. My love of literature has only grown since. As I lay her down, she groans, rolling over to face me. "Namjoon..." she whispers. "You're such a disappointment." Those are her last words before she slips into a deep slumber. I kiss her on the cheek before I leave, stepping into the warm sunshine. Being able to walk out of there, no longer trapped in her clutches is the best feeling. I am free, able to do whatever I want.

Life is beautiful.

As I sit here, surrounded by my sobbing family members, I stare at the closed casket containing my grandfather. They lower it down into the ground, and my grandmother screams, sobbing into my uncle's chest. I've kept it together for so long, not letting go of my emotions. Her wails cause a single tear to roll down my cheek, her heartbreak causing my own pain. My grandfather was a great man. Out of all my family members, he was the only one that actually seemed like he cared about me. He would give me old books, read me to sleep whenever I went to their house because my mother got into trouble, he even taught me English to broden my horizons, being able to read more wonderful books. As the funeral ends, I walk through the graveyard, thinking back on fond memories. As I walk, I spot a small sapling protruding from the ground. I kneel down to examine it, and I smile. One life is taken, one is started. This sapling will grow into a strong tree, and I will come visit it, as a memorial for my grandfather.

Life is beautiful.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kim, I don't know how to say this." The doctor says, looking over his clipboard. I sit across from him, wondering what he's reading. "The tumor has grown to a size that would be impossible to operate on. I'm so sorry, you have maybe a year at most." He says. I let his words sink in. I thank him and shake his hand before exiting the hospital. I walk over the bridge with my hands in my pockets. A year at most. At twenty five, I'll be gone. It wasn't long, but it was good. I sit down on my favorite park bench, watching people pass by. I spot a young couple sat on a blanket, having a picnic together. They look so happy, laughing and smiling at each other. Love radiates off of them, and I smile, their happiness warming my heart. What a wonderful feeling that must be, being loved by someone, loving them.

Life is beautiful.

I sit in the small diner, chatter from it's regular occupants reverberating off the walls. I sip my coffee as the waitress cleans the bar around me. I've been coming here for years, the aesthetic relaxing me. As I look around, I see a new face. A young woman tucked into a corner booth, resting her head on her hand as she pokes at her food with a fork. She looks out the window, a small smile tugging at her lips as a dog on a leash passes by. She licks her chapped lips as she turns back to her food, yawning as she rubs her eyes.

She is beautiful.

I start to come to the diner more often, and she's there most of the time. Sometimes she eats, sometimes she just has a coffee and reads. It took three weeks to gather the courage to talk to her. I sit down at her booth, and her eyebrows raise. "Can I help you?" She asks. Today was a coffee and reading day, and I notice the title of her book. "Les Miserablés. That's a great read." I smile. "You've read it?" She asks, shifting in her seat. "I read it three times." I reply. "Isn't it amazing? The structure is phenomenal, and the description, the imagery, just, incredible." She rambles. She seems so happy. It's great to see a genuine smile on her typically somber face. We sit for hours talking about our favorite books. Her voice is so soft and sweet, I feel like I could listen to it every second of every day. Sooner than I expected, the waitress came to tell us it was closing time. We nod, standing up so she could clean the table. We stand outside, saying our goodbyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." I say, not wanting her to leave. "It's Y/N." She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She is beautiful.

We start seeing each other more. Instead of just the diner, we see each other at our houses, go out together, we even had a picnic together. I've never been so happy in my life. She's told me her past, how her parents abused her and kicked her out of the house at only fifteen, how she had to drop out of school to work full time to support herself. Through all she hardships she's faced, she still came out strong with a positive outlook on life. Through the darkness, she always saw the light, and focused on that, no matter how dim it was. I admire her for that. She's like me. Even with all the negativity in the world, there is always something positive, and she understands that. She is brave and sweet and caring.

She is beautiful.

She loves me. It took a month, but I finally told her how I felt, and she feels the same way. "I love you, Kim Namjoon." She said that. I kissed her too. Her lips were so soft against mine, like a rose. I want to be with her forever. However, I don't have forever. I told her about my tumor. She cried, and I apologized for making her sad. I never want to see her sad. I held her in my arms as she cried into my chest. Seeing her so upset hurts, and I make her look at me as I wipe her tears. "Y/N, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted that. I couldn't help myself that day. I shouldn't have wrapped you into all of this but I did. I'm so sorry." I tell her, a tear streaming down my cheek. She reaches up, holding my hands and placing a small kiss on my palm. "Namjoon, I want to stay with you until it's time. I will be with you until the end. I love you and I will never leave you." She says. I hug her tightly, shaking slightly as I cry silently.

Her words are beautiful.

These past months have been the best of my life. Every time I see her my heart warms up, my smile never fades. Knowing she still loves me makes the last year of my life worth while. I've learned everything about her, and the more I learned, the deeper I fell in love. After a few months she wanted me to move in with her, so I did. being able to hold her in my arms every night is the best feeling. She's treated me amazing, and I've given her the same treatment. I want to prove to her as much as I can how much I care about her. I can tell that everything is taking a toll on her. Even though she is drained, she still shows that she loves me. I don't want to leave her.

She is beautiful.

She brought me to the hospital. My head hurts so bad, I collapsed yesterday. I have a feeling today is the day. It's too soon. There's still so I wanted to do with her. I wanted to marry her, have a family with her, grow old together. She holds my hand as I lay in the hospital bed. She hasn't left since she brought me here. "Y/N, you need to eat something. Please, go to the cafeteria and get something." I beg her. "No. I'm not leaving your side. I promised you, until the very end." She insists. I smile sadly at her, and rub her hand softly. This woman has given me the best year of my life. I'm so lucky. "Tell me something beautiful." I request. She thinks for a moment, smiling when she gets an idea. "Do you remember the day we met? How windy it was out? The trees looked so beautiful swaying in the breeze, the leaves drifting through the air." She describes. "That picnic we had next to your grandfather's tree. The lilies we left there for him. I'm sorry, I must be doing a terrible job at this." She sniffles. "No, you're doing an amazing job. Please, keep going." I asks. She nods, and thinks again. "That night we were in the park, and it started to rain, and instead of running like everyone else, we splashed in puddles, danced, and sat and watched the droplets fall. The sound was so calming, and sitting on that park bench, the water soaking through our clothes, I didn't want to be anywhere else. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at rain again without thinking of that day." She starts to tear up again. "Y/N, I want you to know how much you changed my life. Everything got so much better when I met you. Maybe in another life I can try to make it up to you. I'm so sorry." All of the good times we had were coming to an end. I'm so thankful she came into my life

She made my life beautiful.

A/N: We take so many small things for granted in our lives, not realizing that any day could be our last. Please, take this as a lesson of sorts, and enjoy the minor things in life. Watch a sunset, play in the rain, have fun. Do what makes you happy, and enjoy the time you have.

[7thdimentionsimulation]

Continuation of the connection between Hiveminds and Camouflage.

I needed to find a way to build a stronger relationship between the camouflage I'm making and my self. Although I have a connection to the camouflage that I used, I think from the viewers perspective its harder to relate too. I’ve had this concept in my head as I drive around my home town of Henderson, to take photos of important places to me, and build camouflage of that. 

NOTE: I've just thought of the idea that I should use photos of my past, the idea being that people love to hid there past, masking there mistakes and problems that they faced. To build a perception that they and there persona are a better person then they actually are. 

This plays perfectly into my idea of the juxtaposition of camouflage, where I’m using camouflage to show you my childhood, and enlighten the viewer into where and what I've done. An interesting thing about that is that people will build preconceived ideas of my upbringing based on the places I chose to exhibit. 

Places of importance in my childhood (I want to base this series of works around 2008, I was 10, and this is when I think I really began to develop into the person, and build the headspace that I have):

Home: My escape, my safe space, it always will be. I cant not include this in childhood imagery, as its so important in building my identity and beliefs. 

Home, Back of my house, 2008, Photo of me with a axe I made. (note: the axe didn't work hahaa)

Bush: Just like home the bush is tied very closely to home, home is the bush, home is away, home is nature. I grew up with the nickname “bush boy”, as I was always doing something crazy in the bush. From jumping tree to tree, to catching eels with my bare hands. I LOVE THE BUSH, IT IS ME, I AM THE BUSH.

My favorite stream, Twin streams, Dad, Luther, and I, 2008

Henderson Valley School: Another important part in molding me into the person I am, just like every place on this list. I met some of my closest friends here, friends that have stayed with me my whole life. The lessons i was taught about caring and understanding everyone's opinion, and treating everyone equally was so important for my state of mind. The caring, understanding, strong, OVERWELLING happiness that I get even thinking about HVS, My primary school, is a testimony to its brilliant attitude to life. I wouldn't trade going to primary hear for anything. 

HVS (Henderson Valley Primary), 2008. 

This is my primary school, I learn a lot of valuable lessons from this school, made some amazing friends that I'm still great friends with to this day. I cant praise this school enough for its creativity, and open style of learning that let anyone thrive in their own element. Everything a little rural school should be, and I've been able to keep a great connection with the school with my little brother and sister going there now.

Note: Luckily I found that google maps has been working since 2008, so I'm able to take a step back in time and relive the places. This was an amazing moment finding out that I could do this. I really felt like I was back living in this time, this wonderful adventures time.

Nan’s House: When I was little I spent a lot of time in Pukekohe 

I spent a lot of my childhood here between the ages of 3-8, I really loved this house, and the memories of sitting in the kitchen listening to trackside, eating ice-cream, watching cars pass, with the clock ticking in the background is ingrained in my memories forever.

Ollie’s House

This is my one of my closest, if not my closest friends house. I still to this day go over to this house regularly, and thought out my life holds different important memories. 

Tyler’s House 

When I was in primary school my closest friend Tyler, I went to his house very often. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays we would hang out either at mine or his house. We would go on massive adventures around the back off his house that backed onto a orchard, everything from chasing possums, to running away from the neighbors who were trying to get us off there private property. 

[galadrieljones]

Hello. As I've told u, I'm currently struggling a lot with my ongoing chapter. (Context : It's my first fic !) I was wondering whether you had some chapters of the dead season that you absolutely hated, and did you manage to come to terms with it eventually ? Luv u, xo

Hey Amburu!! (*^_^*) xoxo

First of all: Yes, yes, yes. Writing can feel like a struggle sometimes, especially when  just starting out. Part of this is because we just don’t always know what to expect out of our writing process yet, and so we’re often left wondering, “At what point will this start to feel right or finished?” It’s hard to trust ourselves, as writers, and this can be discouraging, but just like with any skill, we can’t get better unless we persevere. I like to think that writing improvement exists like a series of plateaus. It is not incremental. It’s like, you are on one plateau for a really long time, and then one day, you sort of hit critical mass. You’ve written so much, a pattern has struck. You’ve figured something out, even if it is not conscious, and suddenly, you’re just better. This process never ends.

Now, to your question: In terms of the writing process, it can take a long time and a lot of words to hit the point where you feel like you can actually trust your instincts. Or, at least it did for me. In fact, The Dead Season is my first project in which I feel like I’ve actually honed a writing process that works, and I have been writing fiction for a long, long time. Part of my writing process is experiencing a great deal of doubt, at some point in the week, as to whether or not the chapter is going to come together at all. This makes me anxious, as it would many of us, and certain chapters have made me more anxious than others. I wouldn’t say that I’ve ever hated any of my chapters themselves, but there are certainly chapters that have given me a lot of stress and self-doubt, and this is a feeling that I very much dislike.

For example, my early chapters, ie: about 1-7, feel super experimental and are very small. I’m not terribly happy with them by any stretch. But I have, over time, found small things that are working, and things that, in the long run, I actually like very much and would not change. For example, there are some rare, very strange and dark moments in the Fade, and we don’t actually go to the Fade all that often in TDS, so this is good. This is important. There are also some early seeds planted per Solas’s complex friendships with both Sera and Dorian, and Sene and Sera as well, plus Sene and Cole. These are big relationships that I was already investigating early on, and so while those chapters certainly aren’t perfect, I feel good about the fact that this has ALWAYS been a story about friendship, first and foremost, and that’s something I have not forgotten.

I’ve also accepted the fact that I was still new to the story back then and still feeling my way through and figuring out what was to come. So of course my early chapters weren’t going to be as careful and multi-layered as chapters that would come much later. This is a serial piece, which makes it feel, to me, a little like writing for TV, in terms of methodology. It took me a minute to figure out my formula, my process, my characters, but once I did, things started to take shape much more quickly and reliably.

Writing is hard, and it can be a struggle, but that is normal. The most important thing to remember, especially when writing more or less publicly, like for a fandom, is to not compare yourself and your writing to others and their writing. That is a toxic beast that we all fall prey to from time to time, but it will hamper your creativity more than anything. Also, and more practically, a lot of the time, when a chapter is causing problems, it might just be that you need to step back, locate the problem, and solve it in the quickest way possible so that you can move forward. Can’t get a transition to work? Then fuck it. Take the transition out and just put in a page break instead. Writing is sometimes just grunt work. It’s just problem-solving. Getting from point A to point B. The art we read on any brilliant page of any piece of writing we love takes many gruelling drafts to complete. It is a process. No writing comes out perfectly on the first try.

UNDER THE CUT: I go through some specific chapters in TDS that I really struggled with, mostly to give you some concrete perspective on the fact that YOU ARE NOT ALONE in your struggle to bring a chapter together. This is for anyone who’s interested!! (It was no bother and actually very productive!

Chapter 10: Hallelujah

I wrote that entire chapter while sitting on a bar stool at a cafe in my hometown in Wisconsin. I pulled a Patrick Weekes on this chapter, and it was hard, ie:  For all the Fade stuff with Sene and then Sene and Cole, I adapted the meter of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, hence the title. Looking back, it’s a little precious, per my aesthetic, but I’m glad I gave it a try and somehow made it work. It was just a blatant nod to Weekes and his brilliant writing in DA:I.

Chapter 21: It’s Raining in Val Royeaux, Chapter 22 & 23: Man of Faith, Pt. 1 & 2

These chapters were logistical nightmares. This was also my first go at using the stakes and politics of the world, plus a quest in the game, to really propel the plot AND Solas’s character forward. At first, what was so difficult, was navigating Josephine’s plan and introducing the “game” in a way that felt like it was informed by Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts without piggy-backing it completely. This would be an innocent affair. No murder, only sly quips and earning the favor of the Comte and Comtess Berrande. Plus, romance. Also, this whole thing was me building toward Solas’s diplomatic charm, which is HUGE per his history with Mythal, and then I just had to get to that scene with Blackwall like…I had been working toward that scene for weeks. So a lot was at stake. All told this was a LOT of writing, and I had a really bad head cold when I did it, and I was very very worried about these chapters for a LONG time. I still have not gone back to read them. I assume they’re okay?? Lol.

Chapter 25: The Mother We Share

This is the purple chapter, and I still think there is probably TOO MUCH purple and TOO MUCH mother imagery dumped in. This chapter took me FOREVER and was the moment I realized Solas had become too soft, and that he needed a shove in the other direction. So I had to introduce Abelas, and also, at this point, my stuff with Mythal/Flemeth disassociating began to take shape. Bleh. Thinking about this chapter feels like wading in molasses sometimes.

Chapter 30: Dust of My Dust

This chapter was hard, because it was transitional. I had to get us OUT of Crestwood, and Sene and Solas were in two different places, which had never happened before. Sometimes it is SO HARD to just get from one scene to the next. And so in the end, to save myself more pain, I ended up just splitting the chapter up into a couple separate sections and skipping the transition altogether. This was so useful that I ended up using the section format in multiple future chapters and will most certainly do it again. Half of writing is just problem-solving, it turns out.

Chapter 34: The Elves are Asleep

This is the chapter that comes after Sene learns the truth about Solas as an ancient elf, which comes right after he finally tells her about the miscarriage. This chapter was VERY hard, as it starts in the Fade, and then they come back hard to reality. Huge tone shift. Dorian is there, etc. I’m still a little unhappy with this chapter, especially the ending. It was difficult to find the thesis, ie: what is the ultimate goal? I knew it had to be something with Sene’s character, as this is when her flaws and fears truly start to take shape, but I just couldn’t get a grip on the ending. I probably wrote 14 different endings until I finally figured out what her state of mind needed to be and even still, I’m a little unsure, because I just couldn’t mess around with it anymore. I was going nuts. So I just published it and moved on. Moveon.org. Sometimes you just gotta. Bleh. Oh well.

Chapter 36: Hey, Morrigan. Spin me a tale.

THIS CHAPTER KILLED ME. Lol. Looking back, I am actually very pleased with it, but at the time, it was so much that I had to delay publishing, because I just could not get it right. In the end, it just ended up being a series of impressionistic, almost paratactic scenes, all with very oblique titles. Again, problem-solving. Though I love writing like this. It’s totally my wheelhouse. But to earn this kind of thing, I knew I needed to establish a really strong thematic drawstring to unite all the pieces. I had like thirty metaphors going at once with the knitting and the gloves and the hands, and then creating that sense of confusion in the end, between what Solas is experiencing NOW and what he is remembering–that was really fucking hard. This chapter took me two weeks to draft, and I remember publishing it at 2am and then dragging myself to bed like TIS FINALLY COMPLETE.

Chapter 38: Assassins

This chapter was another logistical nightmare. I don’t typically write a ton of consecutive, immediately chronological scenes, or scenes where the tension completely shifts based on real-time action. But in this chapter, I had to locate Sene’s state of mind with Mythal, coordinate the accidental reveal of Solas’s identity, then cue the assassins, trigger Sene’s response, locate Mythal’s state of mind, and then get everyone down to the brig. FFFFFF. Like this is NOT my strength as a writer, and so this chapter was a huge challenge and I feel like I actually learned a lot. Also, I remember I initially wrote past the ending of this chapter by like 2500 words, only later to realize I needed to save all that for later. So yeah. :deep breath: This chapter, in my mind, feels full of sharp knives.

@thevikingwoman, per your interests.