#i hope i’ll have more time and space and energy to draw this year compared to last year

[michi-chelle-draws]

happy new year ❤️ i hope 2024 treats us well!

[milkyplier]

It got too long and heartfelt in the reblog, so I decided it deserved its own post XD

BOOM. MY OLD ART FROM LIKE 2018/19???

This is my bestie's Harry Potter OC that I drew for her! I actually had some similar drawings of both our OCs, but they're not in my possession right now XD and maybe they'll never be! But it's cool to see how very far I'll e come since then.here's some of my more recent art, just so you can see them side by side XD

For me, personally, seeing them side by side makes me giddy. They're so different, it's hard to link them together, hard to look at them and think the same person drew them. But I did. And as someone who grew up with another fabulous artist (@/rustic-space-fiddle), | was always impatient, always discouraged to look at my own art and see everything it was missing. I wanted to draw like Rusty, but I was so very unskilled. I was very eager to reach the day when I could match her skill, when I could look at my art and see in it everything that I saw in hers.

And today, I can honestly, confidently, gratefully say that I have arrived.

Obviously, if you go check out Rusty’s art, you’ll see I am by no means as good as her. But I learned awhile ago that I’ll never be, no one will—not only am I biased that she’s the best artist in the world (because she is), but Rusty draws the way only Rusty can, and the way only she will. Others may draw similarly, others may copy her, but art is like a fingerprint. Each style and piece is unique to the person who drew it. Therefore, it’s unfair for me to compare myself to Rusty when I could never possess her fingerprint in the first place. But that doesn’t change the fact that I used to compare myself to her so harshly—and the fact that to a younger me, I have achieved exactly what I wanted.

2018 was not the year I started drawing. Was it perhaps the year of my first exploration into the digital realm? Yes, but before then, I was drawing horses. I love horses, and I loved them so much they were all I ever drew. My walls were adorned with dozens of drawings of horses. I’ve since fallen out of the habit of drawing horses so regularly, but all those drawings are what started me drawing. I learned to hold a pencil and put it to paper drawing horses, and then from there, I just started drawing everything else. I only recently started drawing in seriousness, in the grand scheme of things. A year or two ago. And then I was drawing people most of the time, and the occasional dog or cat. And there were many bumps along the way—my discouragement at my own ability, as well as my inability to draw digitally, as I was quickly coming to love. The iPad I used at the time simply didn’t support Procreate after awhile, so I was using my sister’s iPad.

There are also the artists which inspired me. Obviously, rustic-space-fiddle was—and still is—my number one support and inspiration, she was my goal. But then I got instagram and I saw people’s different styles, and while I don’t know where exactly the inspiration from them comes from, it’s certainly there, perhaps in the courage with which I now draw. The second biggest inspiration in my life has been, without a doubt, Jojo. Her art style, which I adore, is something I have tried to imbue in mine—I’ve been told before that it can be seen, but I’m unsure of that. Still, even if I do not draw in her style, I think I draw in her energy. In the way that I draw Legend, that style, that goal, that love for him and her art, I think it’s there every time I draw Legend, and even in the other things that I draw too. She may never know, but she is perhaps the only other artist in the world I have ever really hoped to be like.

Anyways. I guess what I am simply trying to say is I’m happy. I’m proud. I’m content with my art, in a way I once hoped I would achieve, and while I know I have many things to learn, I approach them without that lost hopelessness I used to feel, but with passion, curiosity, and the determination to grow better.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. You didn’t really have any reason to read this—even if we have talked, even if we are mutuals, I’m still a stranger whose ramblings about her art hold almost no weight at all. But you did anyways, because you were curious, because you cared, because it was interesting, moving, inspiring. Whatever it was, thank you :)

I’ve come a very long way. And I’ll go a very long way more. I hope you’ll be here to see it all!

[bunnys-babies]

Their Favorite Domestic Moments

AOT x gn!reader

warning(s): none besides the teeniest bit of angst if you squint really hard :3

a/n: heheheh hi! I started this series on my main, which is now an nsfw 18+ blog, with other fandoms so I’ll be continuing it here! This is just their favorite domestic moment with you or their favorite aspects of domestic life with you :) hope you enjoy and as always I really love hearing comments and hearing from you guys in general!! Don’t be shy to come in my inbox! <3

characters: eren, armin, mikasa, connie, sasha, jean, reiner, hange, zeke, & levi

Eren

Binging the same shows

It starts so simple! All giddy and full of laughs and butterflies, chaste kisses during the unimportant parts of the show, tummy aches from the copious amount of snacks and drinks, sore lips and tired eyes from the times the two of you would stray from the television and become rather occupied; at least you can always replay the episode right?

As time goes on it becomes a more essential part of your shared happiness, a way to detox from a bad day or wind down and reconnect your energies. He also loves the excitement of finding a new show with you, and not to mention the way you have a habit of falling asleep on the couch as he fidgets with your fingers. He’s so hopelessly in love with you it almost makes him sick

Armin

Getting a pet together

It’s the perfect stepping stone for the two of you to take as you develop into the next, more serious, part of your relationship. He never would’ve thought that a spontaneous decision and quick trip to the bank would’ve brought him here; living with you and your now three year old dog. He knows it’s not just the dog that got him here but it’s funny to think about it that way.

He loves the theatrics of it all, too. Taking them on walks together, asking the other if they’ve been fed dinner yet, playfully arguing over what their cute little Halloween costume should be. It’s the perfect daydream fuel at the end of the night to imagine what a future with you might be like as well, and how maybe one day you might decide to expand your little family and welcome some children to the mix. All with time is what he reminds himself, and how lucky he is to have you.

Mikasa

Caring for each other when you’re sick

God, she loves doting on you, and unexpectedly being doted on in return - but only by you. She never ever wishes you ill, but you can bet she’s by your side at all times that she can to make you feel better and soothe you. It’s not that she likes you being sick, she just loves that you let her take care of you like this. That’s all she wants to do ever, take care of you and make you feel safe and warm.

What she didn’t expect was to like being taken care of. She’d always told herself how proud she was to be independent and not need to rely on anyone, but with you she’s able to realize that maybe it’s okay to want to rely on someone at least a little bit. And, how loved you make her feel cannot be compared. Sometimes, she catches herself wishing she had a mild cold so you’d fret and fuss over her; that is until she realizes she doesn’t have to be in a compromising position for you to love and worry for her. Please love her with everything because she does already for you <3

Connie

Falling asleep in the car as he drives

He has such a habit of always filling the space in a room, whether unintentionally or not. It’s his laugh, his smile, his voice, his body language, his presence. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one of the first things to draw you in to him. The way his toothy smile invited you right over was the end of you. But in moments like now, where you’ve fallen asleep in the passenger seat with your head resting against the cold window pane as he steadily drives down the freeway late at night, it’s your presence that overwhelms him.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to tell you that, but you’re so perfect to him. He gets to really take you in, gawking and losing his mind at how cute you are. He can rub his hand against your thigh and shush you back to sleep when you stir, turning up the heat and turning down the music. He just can’t help but swoon over you like this. And it’s in the fleeting quiet moments that it hits him full force for the first time, your light snores and resting face damn near bringing him to tears at how happy he is that he gets to be yours. Don’t worry, he’ll work up the courage to tell you one day.

Sasha

Grocery Shopping

As cliche as it sounds for her, it’s so true. But it’s the whole process. It’s not just the shopping and picking it all out, it’s the sitting down and making the list, too! She has you write it down cause she gets too distracted thinking of the other things you’ll need as you mention one product that reminds her of another.

And she’s so cute doddling around in the produce market, being sure you’re only getting the best of the available selection. Her hair pulled tight to the top of her head as she brings various melons close enough to her face so her eyes are going cross, until she turns to you with a bright smile, exclaiming she found the perfect one! Only the best for her best baby. It’s definitely an time consuming trip, but it makes her so so happy. She can’t really explain it, couldn’t articulate to you why she loves it so much even if she tried. There’s just something about piling it all into the car and putting it away at home, kissing you on any exposed skin she can find as she passes you in the kitchen, that tells her you’re the one.

Jean

Errands

He’s such a sucker for being involved in every little aspect of each other’s life. You wanna know what kind of shampoo he uses? Please, just marry him already. Jean is a true romantic; he’s written you poetry, made you hand made gifts, baked you sweets, buys you flowers every other week, the whole nine. But, nothing compares to getting to spend a whole day with you checking off your to-do list.

To him, it says he’s hit the one of the highest levels of love he can with you. You don’t need to “court” each other, or pretend to be smooth and show your best parts to enjoy each other or feel entertained. He’s happiest completing the “boring” parts of your day with you. Please! Let him get gas with you, he’ll even fill the tank! Sharing and partaking in these activities with him just makes him look forward to the “boring” lazy days with you in his thirties when the two of you have a day off together and can relax. He’s a simple man, what can he say :)

Reiner

Cooking Together

Not only does he have a little Pinterest board dedicated for recipes the two of you just have to try, but a whole recipe box full of family recipes. You often find him standing in the kitchen shuffling through the cards until a small smile lights up his face as he hands it to you for your approval. He’s also pretty good at keeping a stocked fridge, so shopping for dinner is never a worry. But besides the promise of a delicious meal, he loves giving you little pointers, or watching you meticulously chop an onion. And whats even better is when he gets to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, helping you guide the knife or sway with you in his arms as he hums the gentle tune coming from the speaker. Your giggles make his stomach do cartwheels when he leaves light kisses in the crook of your neck.

However, don’t be fooled, you make his face feel just as hot as you stare at him with heart eyes whilst he oh so carefully mixes his homemade tomato soup. Sometimes it’s scary, the way you make his heart clench at the tiniest of remarks or kisses. But now he’s grown to be addicted to the feeling, so he’ll let you stare.

Hange

Midday Naps

It’s best when they’re on accident. A mess of clothes and glasses half down their face as they drool with you just as sloppily sprawled across their lap, some show mindlessly playing through a season as you both snore. It always makes them laugh when they jolt awake, you just as dazed and confused while you both attempt to come to. Something about it feels so personal and unique to the two of you, it’s your thing. You guys have a whole thing. How special is that?

Their laugh is loud and makes you feel fuzzy.

“How do we always let this happen?”

You laugh, too, making them softly smile at you with a fondness that never fails to make you nervous. You’re not sure, but you’ll never complain if they promise to always look at you like that.

Zeke

Sleeping in together

He’s not necessarily a morning person or a night owl, he maintains a fairly healthy sleep schedule and knows it’s an important part of his health. But he would ruin it all and sleep until twelve if it meant he’d get to cuddle you the whole time. You look to angelic when you’re asleep for him to wake you, anyways. It doesn’t matter how you think you look at your most vulnerable, cause he’s the one who knows how beautiful you look this way. And he’s the only one who gets to see this, to feel this, he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

There’s just something so mundane about looking forward to getting a few more minutes of rest with your body nuzzled into his, and that’s what makes it so special for him. The simplicity and normalcy of getting so excited just to be in your presence like this, just a little bit longer, is what tells him he truly loves you.

Levi

Waking up next to you

Levi is all about routine. It keeps him trucking on bad days, it gives him a fulfilling feeling at the end of the evening, and generally just makes life more manageable. What he didn’t expect to be such a necessary part of his routine is getting to wake up next to you. Whenever those first moments of consciousness makes his eyelids flutter, he’s sighing and pulling you closer, humming to himself as he feels your steady breathing against his chest, as if it were natural. It’s not just the comfort he gets from you, but it’s a certain sense of safeness no one else - not even himself - is able to give him.

And getting to have you be the first thing he sees when his eyes finally do fully open always guarantee a pleasant start to his day no matter how restless he might’ve been the night before. His hands ghost over your features, too scared to wake you and ruin the moment, hoping he makes you feel this way, too. So special, so lucky, so happy. The least he could do then is let you sleep a moment more while he takes you in just a little bit longer.

——————

taglist: @d1lfluvr @plutowrites @carmillous @classyunknownlover (if you’d like to be added jus lemme know!)

[watevermelon]

✧ MSBY Soulmate!Atsumu x Reader

➳ Summary: You knew all about his personality, whether through the rumor vine or the numerous warnings your friends gave you. But there was no avoiding it - he was your soulmate after all.

➳ fluff; mutual pining; small jealousy; slight angst with a happy ending ➳ Navigation

—-xXxXxXxXxXx—–

When he first met you, Atsumu hadn’t wanted to hear it.

This was in the prime of his life, being scouted for a Division 1 volleyball team was his life-goal and the only thing standing in his way was the upcoming Olympics. Which, of course, he was rumored to be included on as well.

Even back in high school, there were tons of fans and girls alike who would willingly fall to his feet. Regardless of his reputation, they were eager to share a single night despite knowing it would probably be their last. And Atsumu reveled in the excitement of the attention, feeding off the cheers and shallow admiration many threw at him both on the court and in the bedroom.

Atsumu didn’t want a soulmate, someone whom he was shackled to for the rest of his life.

No, initially he didn’t want you.

As for you, the feeling was mutual to a degree. Soulmates were a touchy topic for many, conversations about colors and contrast was something you could not personally relate to. The moment you met your soulmate, it was described to you as suddenly bathing your entire life in color.

A part of you was curious about your soulmate, where he was in the world, what was he doing and who he was with. But never had you centered your life around it, more like a passive curiosity that you hoped would one day be satiated.

You were a student of Inarizaki during its prime, the members of the volleyball team very popular among the student body. You had made acquaintances with Osamu and Suna through one or two classes, but never were you particularly close to them.

Your close friends often warned you about the leader of their trio anyway - Atsumu Miya and his drove of fuckboy energy. 

There was no doubt that the twin had multiple fan-clubs and obsessive flings surrounding him. You remembered once feeling sympathetic for his soulmate - thinking about how hard it would be to get him to saddle down to a single person. Especially, with the way he lived his life, it seemed the setter could care less about the concept of soulmates to begin with.

No, Atsumu would be a terrible soulmate for whoever was unfortunately linked to him by the red string of fate.

And while he was admittedly very handsome, you did not particularly care about the setter to actively reach out to him.

Besides, it was not like he even knew who you were to begin with.

The years went by and any thoughts you had about the setter were filed away in the quiet recesses of your mind, only appearing once in a while when Miya  Atsumu showed up on some article or newspaper cover for something regarding volleyball. You were silently proud of his accomplishments and representing your school and perfecture, achieving his dream and all, but hadn’t particularly cared about him in the first place.

That was all until one day, you walked into Onigiri Miya years later.

Even though Osamu was the quieter twin, he either had a good memory or was oddly sentimental, since he remembered your name immediately when you took a seat at the bar.

“I see the years have treated ya well.” Osamu started casually, almost making you blush at how the twin could say something like that as if totally normal between old friends. “How’ve ya been doin’?”

“I’ve been working in the city, just something temporary while I finish grad school.”

“Ah, you’ve always been smart.” He complimented.

“Nothing compared to you though.” You countered, “You look really happy doing this. And you have a few branches opening, I heard.”

“Keepin’ tabs on me?” He baited.

“Just like hearing about the success of our classmates.” You shrugged.

You were sure Osamu had something sassy to say back to you before he got called away by another customer. He motioned for you to stay as he walked to the other side. 

Your eyes followed him for a few seconds, watching how despite working around food constantly, he still had an athletic build after all these years. 

(Really, the dude was built like a dorito chip.)

And while you would have liked to stay and flirt with the pretty onigiri twin, a similar voice started from the door. A light chime signaling the front door opening, you heard a greeting toward Osamu, making you turn in your seat in interest.

Only to double-over in surprise as your world was suddenly too bright.

You had no time, not even seconds to get your bearings. Your life of white and black tones was suddenly full - the table covers were black and red, the plants at the windowsill were green with different arrangements of orange. You took in your surroundings quickly, soaking up colors for the first time in your life.

It seemed the other man was just as surprised, cursing as he went before you lifted your eyes simultaneously to look each other in the eyes once more.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Atsumu asked under his breath, but you heard it all the same.

What on earth could you possibly say to that?

Within seconds, the situation was whirling around in your brain that this was possibly the worst possible moment of your life.

You were soulmates that didn’t want each other - for opposite reasons, surely. You did not want to be with Atsumu since he was too much of a player to take the concept seriously and attempting anything with him would only result in heartache. And Atsumu didn’t want you because he surely had an endless amount of women he would rather be with.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear.” You countered as you crossed your arms.

You hadn't expected your first meeting with your soulmate to be met with expletives and it seemed Atsumu finally remembered a semblance of his manners.

“Sorry, ya caught me off-guard.” He started, “Now ain’t the greatest time for me.”

“Oh boy.” You murmured as you turned back in your seat at the bar, Atsumu taking the open one next to you.

“Wait, (L/N)? From Inarizaki?” Atsumu asked after he motioned toward Osamu in greeting.

“That’s me.” You formally introduced yourself, extending a hand out to him. He regarded you quietly before taking his phone out for you to take and put your number in.

“I knew it, I don’t forget a pretty face like yers after all.” Atsumu smoothly said. This was your soulmate and all you felt in response was resentment, thinking about all the women he probably used that line with. You handed him back his phone as he continued, “Wow, look at ya all grown up.”

“And look at you, a professional volleyball player.”

Atsumu looked at you with a critical eye, not one that you could really decipher, but it was clear he was looking at you very thoroughly. “Been to one’ve my games before?”

“Only a few times in high school.” You replied, facing his stare head-on as his smirk only widened. You weren’t sure what this was, but with a player like Atsumu, you were sure he was already sizing you up in a way you didn’t want.

Something told you that if you looked away, you would lose.

And so you held your ground, matching his intense stare as your onigiri meal waited for you at the bar-side.

Thankfully, his name was called out by his twin and Atsumu’s attention was grabbed away before you could break. 

“I didn’t know ya knew each other?” Osamu started as he returned, a glass in hand as he wiped it dry with a towel.

“We don’t.” You said instead.

Atsumu’s smirk tightened as he answered, “Just found out we’re soulmates, actually.”

Osamu put the glass down and turned to you, “'Tsumu fucking with me?”

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered.

“Unfortunately?” Atsumu emphasized as he turned to you more fully, the infuriating smirk still on his face for some reason, “I’ll have ya know that Imma great catch.”

“Debatable.” Osamu countered.

You laughed at his quip before looking at Atsumu, “Yeah, but I’m sure you don’t even want to be ‘caught,’ right?” You shot-back at the setter, “Unless you’re going to try to convince me that you still don’t want to entertain the droves of women at your feet?”

“Think ya have me all figured out?” Atsumu asked as he leaned closer to you, a quirked brow on his face. You looked toward Osamu who looked strangely amused, eyes going between you and Atsumu.

“I think I know enough to know why ‘now ain’t the greatest time’ for you.” You replied sassily as you shot back his first words to you, pushing at his chest to give back your personal space.

Atsumu just took your hand and put it in his own, calling your bluff. “Oh? Like how my time and attention are on Olympics while I’d rather treat my baby properly?”

“Oh god.” You said as you laughed.

You laughed.

To his face?

All the setter could think about was how interesting you were.

He had expected his soulmate to ‘fall at his feet’ as many had in the past. To cling to him for attention and to demand an exclusive shackle to them. But here you were: beautiful and independent and even physically pushing him away.

You grabbed your hand out of his light embrace and turned back to your food, smiling at what you thought was just another line he would feed to his other one-night stands. Atsumu bit his lip in frustration and looked briefly at Osamu, who was watching the two of you like his own personal source of humor.

If you were any other girl, Atsumu would wave you off. Say that he didn’t have time for one girl who didn’t care, he had dozens who would willingly take the spot instead. 

But you weren’t just any other girl, you were his soulmate.

And he could already feel the strange draw towards you.

Not even a few months ago he would scoff at the supposed soulmate bond. All the other members of the Black Jackals had found their other half and what they ranted on and on about made him sick. Bokuto somehow found a way to insert something about Akaashi at almost every conversation and Atsumu would constantly catch Hinata, even during midgame, staring at Kageyama.

They sickened him.

And yet somehow he now understood.

Seeing his soulmate before him, you were one of the first few people in a while that he felt like he had to prove himself to. There was probably an endless amount of expectation against him, he was sure. Being old classmates and seeing his name on a tabloid almost every other month would definitely do that.

And somehow only minutes into speaking to his soulmate, Atsumu wanted something different.

“I could always prove it to ya.” He shot toward you, making you laugh again. 

Alright, this shit ain’t gonna cut it.

Atsumu licked at his bottom lip before pulling your bar stool closer to his, relishing in the way your eyes widened in surprise as he did so. “Come on, ya lookin’ at yer soulmate. Just say what we both want and we can leave here together right now.”

You shot him back an incredulous expression, a challenging look in your eye as he put the ball in your court. It was strange to feed off the provocation of someone else; a new type of adrenaline in him as he wanted to get to know you.

“Sorry, but I’d rather not leave with a man who has hickies down his neck from some other woman.”

Atsumu almost felt himself click his tongue in frustration, but you were not exactly wrong. Just a few hours ago he was inside someone he couldn’t even name with a gun to his head, but that was a world before you.

A world before color and the sassy soulmate who seemed to want nothing to do with him. 

And while Atsumu wanted to prod a bit more, or at least get you to concede that he was the greatest option in the world, his phone rang out with Sakusa’s icon flashing on the screen.

Your eyes were drawn to the noise and you commented, “I’m sure you already have plans today anyway.”

Dashing that thought away, he lifted his phone to your eyes and showcased the proof to you. “Think again, my teammate is on the other line ready to chew my ass out.”

“Oh.” That shut you up, before shrugging and turning back to your food, “Well, I’ll see you around Atsumu.”

He leaned toward you, lips dropping beside your ear and lightly stating, “Keep ya schedule open this week.”

You hesitated for a second before saying, “Maybe.”

Atsumu answered the call and started gathering his things, his thoughts only half on Sakusa as the spiker complained about his cleaning habits in the locker room.

“We should probably exchange numbers again.” Osamu took out his phone, motioning it in your direction. 

You took it with a smile, to which Atsumu scowled and made a point of reminding his twin. “Yer better know she’s my soulmate.”

Osamu sighed outwardly and you just laughed adding, “And he’s the better twin afterall.”

Atsumu’s eyes darkened, phone completely forgotten as he took a step toward you, “I’ll remind you later who really is the better twin.”

He made it so easy to tease him, to challenge the world Atsumu built-up around him. You wanted to break it for some reason, to knock him down a peg for being stuck with a player as a soulmate.

And so you shot back, “I’d like to see you try.”

Atsumu smirked as his hand casually grazed up your thigh and squeezed at the skin there. “That’s a promise.”

He shot both of you goodbye’s before returning to his phone call and walking out the door. Atsumu had the last word for now, but you weren’t going to fall to his feet so easily. Turning back to Osamu was no help either, his expression amused as he watched the entire moment play-out.

“An here I was wantin’ to ask ya out.” Osamu stated plainly before shrugging as you sat still in your chair at the irony.

You expected that to be the last you’d see of Atsumu for a while - weeks or months or maybe even years as he entertained the long list of women that would be much easier to maintain than a soulmate.

He called you the next day, inviting you over for dinner and a movie before the weekend started.

You steeled your spine, telling yourself that the gorgeous setter was not going to get to you in a single night. He lived on the better side of Tokyo, just his zip-code alone was a flex of his wallet. And so when you reached his penthouse floor, you took a deep breath in the elevator before you entered his domain.

Again, you expected him to make good on his promise before, to make a move and prove to you that he was a playboy, asshole that you knew from high-school, but instead you had a pleasant first night.

Atsumu Miya entertained you with a home-cooked meal of all things, the two of you sat across from each other at his mahogany dining table.

“Who would’ve thought you would know how to cook well?”

“Ya know who my brother is?” Atsumu joked, “As if 'Samu will me live if I was an ass in the kitchen.”

“Of course, you’re just an ass in other places then.” You shot back, receiving a playful look of offense from the setter, before continuing. “But this tasted amazing, so thank you.”

Atsumu had that smirking expression on his face, like he was carefully watching you, picking you apart in his mind as he thought about the next ten moves in this strange game.

The setter put a hand on your knee under the table and you expected that to be the move, for it to slide up the rest of the way. But instead he tapped the area twice before he stood, grabbing your empty plates and motioning for you to go to the living room. 

“Why dont’cha get comfortable for the movie while I wash these?”

You weren’t disappointed, per se. 

Just surprised, if anything.

And the night continued on just as tamely, playful and even flirty banter between the two of you over the action movie that played out. At one point he draped a casual arm across the back of the couch, resting his hand on your shoulder and pulling you to lean against him.

You had witty banter back and forth and when the movie finally ended, Atsumu commented how it was getting late. Surprised again, you took the out and allowed him to call a car for you. Atsumu walked you down to the street and only when he was opening the door for you, did he lightly pull you at the waist to chastely move your lips together.

Lasting only seconds, he pulled away just as quickly and ushered you into the car and whispered in your ear, “See you soon, (F/N).

Everything you had expected of the playboy you thought you knew was shattered, no sudden move to get you on your back on his bedsheets. Yes, he still said plenty of flirty things to you, but he had yet to actually act on it. Was that simply a bluff before? Or was he playing a longer game to get you off the defensive?

“Yer so cute, (F/N).” Atsumu complimented you once as you lounged on his couch another day, “There are days I can barely keep my hands off ya.”

And before you could recognize how quickly your life was changing, that first initial date snowballed into more dates and somehow you had gotten to the point where you would visit his place fairly often. Whether for dinner or a simple hangout, it seemed Atsumu was keen on inserting himself into your life little by little.

And somewhere along the way, you started to doubt your earlier musings of a fuck boy with no regard for a soulmate. Maybe he had changed from high school? Or maybe, he had changed when he met you?

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

He had convinced you one night, when you came over for dinner or whatever it must have been, when it started to absolutely downpour outside. He insisted that he did not feel safe sending you home in this weather, to which you countered that you had travelled in worse.

That did little to subdue his worries and instead you found yourself in an oversized jersey getting tucked into his bed that night.

“What’s that face about?” He asked as you laid there together, bed sheets up to your shoulders as he placed an arm beneath your head.

“Nothing, just thinking.”

You thought the first time you’d ever see his bedsheets would be when he was inside of you, not tamely laying beside you and kissing your forehead goodnight. And when he pulled you closer to him, cuddling you to sleep that night, that was one of the safest times you had ever felt.

If this was just a game, if you were just another one of his girls, he would have made a move that night, right?

And so you believed that Atsumu was honestly as earnest in his actions as he said, trying to get to know you for you. Not because you were just another woman to put as a notch on his bedpost, but because he was genuinely interested in you.

That was until you saw the first dating scandal since you had met the setter.

He had plenty of other scandals before this, many women had been attached to his name before, but never had you cared in the past because that was simply his reputation and you barely knew him. But now you had an active role in his life, how could you not know about some woman he was apparently also spending time with?

You did not want to believe some random tabloids over the trust of your soulmate. At least, that was until one day you overheard Atsumu on the phone with his twin.

“Listen, I took out (F/N) that first time cause ya told me to.”

That shit hurted.

The entire foundation of your relationship was based on the fact that his twin pressured him into getting to know you? Did Atsumu even want to get to know you in the first place? Was he really playing with your feelings this whole time?

You turned and went back to his living room, filing this away in your mind as you took a seat. If Atsumu didn’t actually want you in his life, then you would surely give him the space he wanted to begin with.

But you had missed the rest of that phone conversation.

“But I feel like I’ve already fallen for her. I don’t know, she’s different. Ya, ya. I know, I won’t fuck it up this time.”

And so you resolved to put between each other the space he wanted initially.

When you first met, he was pretty vocal about not wanting a soulmate at the time. But he had convinced you along the way, that maybe this was something the both of you wanted.

You were wrong.

Phone calls went ignored and you stopped replying to texts after a few curt replies. You needed distance if you were going to get over Miya Atsumu and his inevitable line of one-night stands.

Your soulmate was supposed to be the one person in the world who completed you, who understood you whole and made you feel loved. And while you were on the precipice of those feelings, it all quickly came crashing down with reality.

Atsumu Miya did not want you.

One night, as you were studying for grad-school, you were working on your part of the group project and were expecting a call any moment now from your other partners. 

When the phone rang out, you picked it up without regard to the name on the screen until it was too late.

“Hey, (F/N)? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” Atsumu’s voice started immediately and it was not like you could hang-up on him now.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy trying to make rent, y’know. Not everyone can be a world-renowned professional athlete.”

There was a small pause on his end before, “... you could always stay with me if you have financial problems.”

What?

Why would he offer that? Just to make you suffer when he brought other women home?

“Don’t say things you’ll regret, haha.” You try to put back that earlier distance, “I’m sure you have a laundry list of girls who are eager to hear back from you after all.”

“What? (F/N), that’s not--”

You cut him off there, “Listen, I’m waiting on a couple people for a school thing. I’ll see you around, Miya-san.”

Miya-san.

Miya-san.

Where had he fucked up?

In the weeks Atsumu had gotten to know you, it was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn’t felt for anyone. It was like the unspoken bond crap that Kita had explained to him in high school or that Suna, who recently found his own soulmate, raved about was actually real.

For the first time in his life he wanted to spend time with a woman for longer than a single night. He wanted to bring you home, kiss you good morning, and possibly have a home with both your names on the mailbox.

And while not even a few months ago he would have scoffed at shit like that, Atsumu wanted it and felt that for the first time it was in his grasp.

So where did he go wrong?

The last thing he ever wanted to do was actually make you feel unwanted and he feared that his initial words might have sparked something within you.

It was no surprise when Atsumu showed up at your apartment unannounced the next day.

Not expecting any company, you waltzed over to the door, thinking it might be a package delivery, and opened it in your pajamas.

Atsumu walked right past you and into the living room, words striking with the specificity of a cobra. “Are you just fucking with me?”

You sputtered before closing the door, “What? 

He ran a stressed hand through his hair, but maintained eye-contact with you. “Yer my soulmate and I wanna get to know you. Am I alone in wantin’ this?”

“Shouldn’t I ask that of you?” You shot back, “You made it clear as day that you didn't want me as your soulmate to begin with!”

Atsumu sighed and took a step closer to you, closing the distance to lightly grab at your elbows. “For fucks sake, that was months ago. Don’t tell me that all that time together meant nothin’ to you?”

“Of course it meant something to me!” You exclaimed back, before pushing at his chest while he did not budge a single inch away. “Don’t act like I’m the one half-assed in this.”

He scowled back, “What is that suppos’ed to mean?”

You did not hesitate, "I know you only spent time with me because Osamu told you to.”

Atsumu recoiled in surprise and you took that as your escape, pushing his lingering hands away as you made for the kitchen. But the setter was out of his stupor quickly, trailing behind you.

“Fuck, what did ‘Samu tell you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, I found out the truth myself.”

You could tell Atsumu’s stress level was skyrocketing, from the way his hair was mused without care and angled strangely in certain ways.

“Ya got it all wrong, it was just that first time!” Atsumu replied right behind you.

“What do you mean?”

“‘Samu was the one who told me to call ya the next day, but I was going to eventually ‘cause I wanted to get to know ya myself.”

You slowly took in his words, but it was hard to make any sort of decision with the setter right in front of you. A part of you, one that attributed it to the soulmate bond, was basically begging you to forgive him and wrap yourself in his embrace. That part wanted to feel those muscular arms around you once again, to feel safe in the arms of the one person in the universe meant for you.

But, afraid of getting hurt and without much argue left within you, you tossed back. “Yeah, eventually.”

Atsumu put a strong grip on your waist, holding you there in place before you could run away again.“‘Samu told me to, but I could’ave easily not done nothin’ that first night or any time after.”

You bit your lip at his words, Atsumu was laying all his cards on the table and he wanted a response from you. 

And he wanted it now.

“Please, ya know me better by now.” Atsumu turned you in place to face him, leaning down to whisper his words against your forehead. “I know Imma bad deal - I can’t imagine what ya thought of me back in high school and even earlier this year. I have a bad history and an even worse reputation.”

“But after just a few weeks, I don’t want ya out of my life ever again. Just hearin’ ya call me by my last name yesterday nearly killed me.” Atsumu continued, trailing his lips further down until your foreheads were touching, “Lets give this a try - a real one. Give me the chance to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the insistent inner tug on your heart and how the setter was encompassing all your thoughts. “Atsumu… I--”

“Stop overthinkin’.” He interrupted, “I don’t want to bombard you. But I promise I won’t ever purposely hurt you.”

You took in a harsh breath, wondering how on earth this could be the same Miya Atsumu who plagued your high school. He had changed, not just from then but from the short amount of time you had already shared together. Opening your eyes slowly, Atsumu was still clutching you around the waist, but his eyes were carefully scanning your expression.

“Okay.” 

You replied, leaning into his touch more as the smile on the setter’s face widened.

He did not waste a single moment, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You stood surprised for a second, before pushing up to meet his gentle touches. There was no sudden epiphany, no instant speech of undying love after. But there was no denying the harsh flutter intensifying after every inflamed touch. 

Your heart pounded hard in your chest as you leaned more into the setter, knees going weak as his tongue roamed your open mouth. Your only focus was on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictive it was to have Atsumu invaded all your senses. From the intense smell of his cologne to the light tickle of his blond hair against your head, Atsumu was dominating your every feeling.

And so it was quite a surprise when Atsumu gave you one final peck, before moving to your forehead and placing a light butterfly kiss there and backing off entirely.

“Fuck, just look at you.” He commented as he leaned back, looking at you up and down. There was no doubt the sight that greeted him, you messy with drool, tousled hair, and rumpled clothing. “Even in your sheep pajamas, it’s hard for me to keep my hands off ya.”

Your blush intensified at his words, putting a playful hand on his chest and muttering a small, “Shut up.”

“Never.” He quipped back, putting another kiss on your forehead before pulling away, only your hands still joined. “Now let’s get your apartment packed.”

“What?” You asked, confused. Your mind was still nothing more than a cup of spilled milk after Atsumu had all but ravaged your senses.

He smiled before pulling you back to your living room. You followed wordlessly, his previous statements slowly pouring into your brain after the intense liplock. It was hard to focus on anything when the attractive setter was making a point to kiss you at an open chance.

“As in packed to move in with me.”

[aikrus]

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request:  Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

            The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear. 

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet. 

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built. 

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong. 

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space. 

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room. 

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you. 

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------ 

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts. 

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones. 

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,” 

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him. 

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl. 

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided. 

------------------------------

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness. 

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom. 

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they  put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known. 

--------------------

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was. 

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

-----------------------

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall. 

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own. 

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade.  He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks. 

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views. 

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now? 

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

-------------------

A/N 

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a  long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don��t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3

[bts-weverse-trans]

The Life of BTS Writes a Story Review of BE 2020.11.30

BTS released its new album, BE, on November 20 after RM announced the band’s plan to produce the record on BANGTANTV’s Log (ON) on April 17. The group was working on the album even as “Dynamite”, the single they dropped on August 21, was topping the Billboard Hot 100. This order of events is given a fresh new meaning when “Dynamite” closes BE as opposed to standing alone as a single. While the group was busy sending messages of hope by reminding us of the past where heading out happily after a cup of milk was possible and giving us a glimpse of the future that will eventually come, they were recording the emotional ride they have been on while being off stage via different tracks on BE. Such changes in emotions can be seen through different portrayals of Jung Kook’s room—the way it looks during the first verse of both “Dynamite” and “Life Goes On,” the title track of the new album. Jung Kook is captured looking chipper as he ties his shoes getting ready to go out and dances in his sunshine-filled room in the music video of “Dynamite”, but in the latter’s video, Jung Kook stares blankly out the window. BE tells the story of how Jung Kook and other members navigated their lives, which includes their time singing “Dynamite,” during the pandemic by stepping out of rooms that are distinctively less colorful than the scenes in the music video of “Dynamite”.

The seven tracks, not including “Dynamite”, embody BTS’ emotional shifts and draw what looks a lot like a V curve, with “Skit” separating each section of three songs. The album opens with “Life Goes On” where BTS asks, “there’s no end in sight / is there a way out?” to live through a reality devoid of hope and arrives at “Stay” where the group expresses their intense longing for a reunion with the fans by saying, “Thinking of you now / No matter where you are / That’s not important.” And during this journey, BTS responds to the physical limitations imposed on their daily lives by saying “They took away this whole year” while also trying to put a positive spin on it by singing, “Thoughts can change by thinking,” in “Fly to My Room”. What follows is “Blue & Grey”, where they reveal inner feelings of depression and anxiety with the line, “Still don’t know this sharp blue / Hope it’s not covered over I’ll find the exit.” “Skit” then offers a shift in direction, and the next song, “Telepathy” reveals their eagerness to meet people again, highlighted by the lyrics, “Every day’s the same and I’m happiest when I meet you.” BTS also takes a moment to let out their complex thoughts on work to reach “Stay” ultimately. It is only at the end of this process that the optimism in “Dynamite”, which feels like a conviction of hope in a time of pandemic, appears in full.

“Life Goes On” allows those who don’t know whether they should hold on to hope or give up on hope to feel what it is like to go with the flow when you don’t know what to feel. Those who want to find a reason to be positive in life affected by the pandemic can find solace in “Fly to My Room.” But it is when you listen to the album as a whole that you can get healing from the pain the pandemic has inflicted on us. The soothing ambiance offered by “Life Goes on” transitions into heavy, slow, and dark tunes in “Blue & Grey,” which is followed by faster rhythm and airy sounds in “Telepathy” and “Stay.” Then the album finally culminates in “Dynamite” where the bright sunshine lifts you up. The record in its entirety offers the chance to experience at least indirectly the emotional ride taken by global superstars BTS themselves. “Dis-ease” is the classic example of the storytelling style BTS chose for the album; the moment they let out their angst and fully devote themselves to work is when the song reaches its climax. When BTS sings, “Get up one more time / It’s morning again we gotta go out / Let’s go one more night,” towards the end of the song, the arrangement drives up the song’s tension for the peak moment, “Everyday I console myself / We’re all the same people ain’t so special / Ay man keep one, two step keep calm and let’s heal up” which tops the song off like fireworks. This ironic way of storytelling mirrors BTS’ life at the moment. There are a lot of thoughts about work and life on their mind, but they try their best to work through them. And just as they do this, their energy transforms into a musical blast.

With “On,” the single track on their previous album “Map of the Soul : 7,” BTS says “Where my pain lies / Let me take a breath.” The album covers how BTS has traveled from the past to where they stand now, and “ON” tells a story of the members having to live with the “shadow” that comes with enormous fame as discussed in “Interlude : Shadow” on the very same album. With BE, BTS finally tells the story of their lives that are still unfolding. It’s not clear whether their questions about work asked in “Dis-ease” now found answers. It’s not known how long this will last, just like no one knows when this pandemic will finally run its course. We have no way of knowing if they are still in the mood expressed in “Blue & Grey” or they’re feeling the positivity of “Fly to My Room.” One thing that is clear is that while they battle work as one would with “Dis-ease,” they still wrote songs like “Telepathy” and “Stay” to send their messages to the fans, and kept busy getting ready to perform “Dynamite” on numerous stages. BE is the album that ties together all of their real-life events, both on and off stage, as one narrative. They started as an idol group and now their lives are intertwined inseparable from their music, their very existence becoming the stories they tell.

The way BE sets up different songs is directly linked to the musical changes BTS has undergone, and thus, are evident in the album. As the members’ stories take center stage, the arrangement focuses on getting their lines and melodies across and adjusts itself flexibly to each member’s part without following a certain trend or form. The arrangement filled with sounds of guitars, synthesizers, bass, drums, and pianos or sounds similar to real instruments is fitting to songs like “Fly to My Room” and “Blue & Grey”, in which auditory shifts accompany each member’s part. The smaller number of sounds used in

BE

compared to previous albums further emphasizes vocals, such as by accentuating the sound of Jung Kook inhaling in the beginning of “Life Goes On.” If J-Hope’s part in “Fly to My Room” reminds you of a gospel song, it’s not just because the synthesizer highlighted the gospel-like vibes but also because j-Hope’s voice that faithfully delivers his emotions as if giving witness to an epiphany with the line, “Thoughts can change by thinking.” Just like the auditory shift that takes place with SUGA’s rap part in “Blue & Grey” where the drums begin to layer, the arrangement of BE evolves constantly in line with each member’s part.

BE also takes on new challenges in format.. The chorus in “Blue & Grey” has such long melodies that it has no clear ending, and it fades out for the post-chorus that triggers an image of a lonely winter night with gloomy vocals. The post-chorus might seem like an abrupt shift but many devices contribute to giving this song the bleak wintery night vibe: RM’s somewhat distant rapping delivered through left and right on stereo that echoes through the room as well as the vocal recording that applied different echoes depending on lyrics and the solemn sounding cello. “Life Goes On” progresses in a similar fashion, starting with percussions ringing right next to your ears that create multi-layered sounds and taking you to an imagined space by blending the chorus and synthesizer. The story they tell resembles confessions about emotional states or specific circumstances, and the melodies unfold and rap flows in new ways as the story progresses While there are a lot of shifts, there is consistency in that sounds build the same sense of space. “Stay,” while being an EDM piece, ends on a rather blue note after phasing out beats that earlier set the stage for the dancefloor stomper. It makes sense given that the song is Jung Kook’s imagination of performing in front of the fans; Festivities in the song are interrupted by the fading out of vocals and overall sound layers. “Telepathy” offers a catchy hook in a song filled with bouncy spirit, just like “Dynamite” does. But the difference lies in that “Dynamite” brings out the explosive energy through repetition of melodies and variation of rhythms and that “Telepathy” phases itself out by reducing the number of sounds. “Fly to My Room” is about coming to terms with life in the pandemic, but the acknowledgment doesn’t necessarily make such a life enjoyable. Adding vibrant melodies isn’t a solution to challenges that accompany work, which are conveyed in “Dis-ease.” Such are the mixed feelings we experience in life—in which we have no control over a break or our approach—that are clearly expressed in the album by highlighting each member’s part and various shifts. Despite the numerous musical turns, the album has been produced in a way that ensures its consistency throughout the entire work; “Life Goes On” leaves you with the chorus where the seamless melodic flow seems like it’ll just keep on going.

In “Skit”, BTS is talking about how they’re practicing their debut song for performance eveon on the day after “Dynamite” became No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100. After they topped the chart with “Dynamite”, they came back with an album filled with songs seemingly the polar opposites of their hit single. Life seems to be on a loop but changes suddenly appear, and previous routines end up different because of this newness. BE is an acceptance of such peculiarity of life rather than an answer to it. BTS began with K-pop and now have become superstars of pop, and they’ve harnessed the power of their own story in the album by choosing neither path. The team that began its journey with “No More Dream” and have traveled to “Dynamite” leaves an open ending as to where they will head next. Still, the next chapter will be shared regardless of what it shapes up to be. That is why they can leave us wondering what comes after BE.

Trans © Weverse

[fyeah-bangtan7]

J-Hope on Growing Up in BTS, His Next Mixtape and More

"We wanted to make music that can give people more strength," says J-Hope, in the first of our digital cover stories starring each BTS member

One of BTS’ many high-profile fans, Late Late Show host James Corden, says the group is “at their core, a force for good.” With his dimpled smile, warm manner, and fierce stage presence, 27-year-old rapper, dancer, songwriter, and producer J-Hope embodies the group’s combination of fundamental goodness and overwhelming talent; even his choice of stage name radiates positivity. In the first of Rolling Stone‘s breakout interviews with each of the seven members of BTS, J-Hope looked back at the group’s early days, reflected on his musical future, and more. He spoke from a studio room at the Seoul headquarters of the group’s label, HYBE’s Big Hit Music, wearing an olive coat over a crisp white T-shirt. His energy was restrained compared to his relentlessly buoyant TV interviews, but his high-watt smile was never far away.(In celebration of BTS’ appearance on the cover of Rolling Stone, we’re publishing individual digital covers with each member of the band; check back throughout the next week for more.)

Did you wake up and come straight here, or did you get a chance to do anything else this morning?

I went to the bathroom! [laughs]

So what have you learned about yourself over the course of this pandemic year?

It was an opportunity to learn how precious our ordinary lives were.  I had to think about how my life should go on and how I should just stay calm and focus even during these times. It was a time to reflect on myself a lot.

And what did you take away from that reflection?

The takeaway is I have to do what I can do best. Time goes on and life flows on, and we just have to keep doing music and performances. I just thought that I have to make music that can give consolation and a sense of hope to other people. You know, we’re just people, like everybody else. So we feel the same way as everybody else. So we just wanted to make music and do performances that other people can resonate with and that can give people more strength.

What you’re saying reminds me of the message of “Life Goes On,” which is a beautiful song.

That song came from thinking about what can we do during this time, during the Covid pandemic. It’s about the stories that we can tell at this point in time. It motivated us to really talk among the members about what we are feeling. So I feel that it’s an important song.

In some of your lyrics, you’ve revealed that there is sometimes a sadness behind the smile that everyone loves. How do you balance the positivity that you present to the world with the more complex emotions you may experience in real life?

Things are really different from how it used to be. I just try to show who I really am. I think that’s the most comfortable for me. Everybody has, you know, different sides from what they show. Of course, I do have a burden and a pressure as an artist. I just take them in for what they are. I just try to express that I’m going to overcome these difficulties.If I express those things, I think that also gives me a sense of consolation as well. We have been communicating with our fans ever since we became artists, but now I think it’s become more natural and comfortable. Before we tried to only show them the good side, the bright side of us. As my name is J-Hope, I only tried to show the bright side of our group and myself. But as the time passes by, one cannot feel the same way forever so I also felt other emotions. I tried to express those emotions through music or dialogue, to express them in a very beautiful way.

One of those songs is “Outro: Ego.” What were you thinking when you wrote that one?

It’s really about self-reflection, reflecting on who I am, my ego, as the name implies. It’s about the life of Jung Ho-seok [J-Hope’s real name] as an individual, and the life of J-Hope. And the conclusion that I draw from this inner reflection is that I believe in myself and I believe who I am, and this is my identity. And then these are the challenges that I have faced, and I’ll continue to face these challenges and do new things by relying on who I am.

In 2018, you released the mixtape Hope World, which was a major artistic achievement. What are your favorite memories of working on it?

You know, looking back, I think it was really pure, innocent, and beautiful that I could do such music at those times. When I work on music right now, I have an opportunity to go back to those emotions and think, “Oh, those were the days.” I think it really has a good influence on my music that I work on now. Through the mixtape I learned a lot, and I think it really shaped the direction that I want to go in as an artist, as a musician. I’m really just grateful that so many people loved my mixtape. I am planning to keep on working on music and to try to show people a [style of] music unique to J-Hope.

What are your thoughts on a second mixtape?

Right now, the goal is to get inspired and make good music. Nothing is decided yet, so I’m just going to keep working on music. I think my style of music will not greatly change, but I think it will be more mature. I will try to contain stories that I really want to tell in the second mixtape.

You just released the full version of the song “Blue Side” from Hope World. Was that just something you had the whole time, or did you finish it more recently?

It wasn’t a full version at that time, so I always had the thought of going back to that song and completing it. I always had that in mind. I think it was like two weeks or one month ago that I finally came to think that “Oh, I want to finish this song.” As I mentioned earlier, I really look back onto the emotions that I have when I worked on the mixtape.

When you started as a trainee you hadn’t rapped at all. You’ve obviously come a long way and developed some serious skills — what was that learning process like?

I still think I have some shortcomings. I still think that I have a long way to go, to learn more things. I have to find my own unique style. But I think I could only come this far thanks to the other members. When I first started training, all the members were rappers in that crew. So when you go into the house, beats were dropping, and everyone was just rapping in freestyle. It was kind of not easy to adapt at first, but I really tried hard to adapt to that new environment. And I think those were good times and good memories, and it was really fun as well.

You were very young when you began as a trainee. What’s it been like to grow up in BTS?

I think during my training, life was far apart from being ordinary. Because other guys, my friends, would do schoolwork at school and go on field trips and build memories as a student. And of course I chose this career, my own path, giving up those things. Maybe I could feel unfortunate to not to have experienced those things, but I was chasing my dreams. And meeting the members during our trainee days was really amazing, because it is just amazing that different people who were so different could come together to form a group. And I really want to thank those guys, and I sometimes I feel like I really want to go back to those days.

What do you think when you look back at BTS’ earliest videos, when you all had this almost tough image?

Back when we had released “No More Dream,” our music embodied the battle against prejudice and oppression. So naturally, such values carried over to the style and visual aspects of the release as well. You could say it was our identity and the image that we also portrayed at that moment. But we can’t forever dwell in that static state. As time flows, things change and trends change, as did our tendencies in music. We took into account the influences around us, including, of course, our audiences. These influences guided us toward our own change in musical style and concepts.

You’ve all said many times that when you first got together, there were conflicts because you had different backgrounds and different values. What were some of the key differences that made it tough early on?

We were just really different from the beginning, so it was awkward. It did take time to get used to it. We were living together, but we had to make sure we each had our own personal spaces. Eventually we learned to understand each other, and now we’ve been doing this for so long together that we have this sort of harmony, an understanding of each other that allows us to have the kind of teamwork we have. And each of us has different roles and different things we do in the music, so we also try to help each other in what we’re doing and try to help each other become better.

© source

[callboxkat]

Infinitesimal (epilogue)

Author’s note: Happy two year anniversary of when I first began posting this fic! Let’s celebrate with its conclusion. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this story. I know I’ve enjoyed writing it. <3

Warnings: food mention, injury mention, illness mention, captivity mention, nightmare mention

Word count: 3058

Infinitesimal Masterpost!

Writing Masterpost!

...

“We’re almost home!” Patton announced as they rounded the final corner. It was a straight shot now, barely any distance at all to the home that Emile and Virgil had built and made their own, and that they had eagerly welcomed Patton to join. A home that they hadn’t seen in weeks, since Emile had first gone missing, not counting Patton’s brief return for Virgil’s birthday gifts. Suffice to say, however friendly they had grown with Roman and Logan, all three of them were happy to be back.

“Home,” Emile hummed. He was clearly exhausted, leaning heavily on Virgil and Patton as they slowly made their way home; but he had insisted after their last break that he could make it the rest of the way in one shot. And now that they were so close, he seemed to gain a new energy. Patton couldn’t blame him—he felt the same way.

Minutes later, Virgil was opening the door and flicking on the lights, and they stepped over the threshold.

Home.

Patton and Virgil had meant to immediately take Emile to the bed in the second room, so that he could recover from the journey; but Emile stopped as soon as he was inside, staring up at the walls.

Oh, right, Patton thought. He’d nearly forgotten.

The drawings that Patton and Virgil had created while Emile was on his ill-fated supply run still hung on the once bare walls, cheerful, colorful banners that coated nearly every bit of available space. Some were detailed—the earliest of these drawings—while others were little more than bright scribbles meant to fill up space like a gigantic patchwork design, adding to the ridiculous cacophony of it all. One in particular, a very goofy looking smiley face, hung at eye level directly across from the door.

A second passed, and then Emile began to laugh.

…

Two weeks had gone by since the littles had departed. Logan had seen no sign of them since, and could only assume—and hope—that this meant that everything had gone as planned, and that they were fine.

He wished he knew this for sure, but it wasn’t as if he could call them and ask.

Logan sighed, tapping the pencil he held in one hand against the book in his lap. It wouldn’t do to be so distracted, he told himself. He was meant to be doing homework.

Deciding that perhaps biology would be easier to focus on than Calculus, Logan stood and went to get his other books.

Soon after, he returned, the textbook, notebook, and calculator held in his arms. He made for the sofa.

“Hello?”

Logan jumped, very nearly dropping the books in his arms. He whirled around towards the voice, and his gaze locked onto the shelf on the wall opposite the window.

Virgil.

“I—” Logan shook his head, composing himself as best he could. “Virgil! Is something wrong? Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”

Virgil held up both arms in a “calm down” gesture, his crutches hanging from his elbows, briefly balancing on one leg.

“They’re fine,” the little said, putting his arms back down. “Is, um. Is Roman around?”

Logan, who had been staring at Virgil with wide eyes as he spoke, deflated slightly. “Ah—yes. My apologies, I shouldn’t assume you are here to speak with me. I’ll fetch him instead.”

Virgil groaned, rolling his eyes so hard that it was a full-body gesture. “No, you moron, you come back too.”

In another circumstance, Logan might have been miffed about being called a moron, but now he just blinked in pleased surprise. “Oh.”

Virgil leaned on one crutch, tilting his head to the side. “So? Are you going to get him?”

“Ah—yes, of course. One moment.” Logan placed his school materials on the coffee table, then strode purposefully from the room.

When he returned, a very excited and curious Roman in tow, Virgil was still on the shelf, shifting awkwardly where he stood.

“Doctor Gloom!” Roman greeted cheerily, his still-exuberant voice softened out of consideration. “What brings you to our homely abode?”

Logan glanced at Roman, a bit surprised at the vocabulary choice, and wondering if perhaps he’d confused the definition of “homely”, before looking back to Virgil for an answer.

Virgil managed to look even more uncomfortable. Logan shifted his gaze slightly away, hoping that that would help. It seemed to do the trick.

Virgil took a deep breath. “So… I wanted to, uh… I wanted to say thanks,” he said. “I know I wasn’t… I wasn’t the nicest, when I came to ask you guys for help, with Em. But you helped me anyway, and you helped him. You saved him. And Patton. So… thanks for that.” He paused. “Um. That’s all.”

He opened his mouth again, shook his head, and turned away, clearly about to dart back into the wall.

“Wait,” Roman begged. “Don’t go yet.”

Virgil paused.

“You came quite a long way just to say that,” Logan observed. “I do appreciate it, as I’m sure Roman does, but….”

Virgil scoffed.

“Would it hurt to have a conversation before you leave?” Logan gently pressed. He hadn’t seen any of the littles in two weeks, which, while not overly long, was certainly more time than he would have preferred.

“Are Pat and Emile okay?” Roman asked. “How are you? What’s been going on the past two weeks?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Virgil muttered.

Logan and Roman waited.

Virgil sighed. “I waited because I wanted to make sure Em was good, okay? And he’s—he’s fine.” Virgil turned away from the wall to look more properly towards them again, but his voice was quieter as he continued, “I just wanted to thank you guys, and he’s better, so I came.”

Logan nodded slightly. “We appreciate it,” he said.

Virgil shifted. “I’m fine,” he continued. “I’m great. Pat and Em, too. We’ve just been, um. Helping Emile. And fixing things up at home.”

Virgil nodded to himself, and started to turn away again.

“Is that all you wanted?” Logan asked. “Do you need food, or supplies? Perhaps you could pass along well-wishes to Patton and Emile.”

“I don’t need charity,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

“It’s not charity,” Roman chimed in. “We want to help. Because we’re friends, right?”

Virgil sighed.

“Is there really nothing you need?”

Virgil tapped one of his crutches on the shelf, thinking. A few seconds later, his shoulders drooped.

“Can I have one of your Christmas lights? A clear one? And some wire, maybe?”

Logan remembered the broken glass in Emile’s bag, the remnants of a light he had attempted to bring home. They must not have been able to replace it yet. Of course, they hadn’t. He should have realized.

Virgil seemed to want to justify his request. “It’s just—we’re not going back to where we used to get them, so. We haven’t found a new spot yet.”

“You won’t have to,” Logan said. “Whenever you need a new light, just ask us. We’d be happy to provide them”

Virgil nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s all, though,” he seemed to need to say. “We can get our own food and everything.”

Logan nodded, allowing a small smile to come to his lips. “Of course.”

“And—and, maybe,” he continued, “Maybe I’ll bring Patton next time. If he wants to come.”

Logan was just happy to hear there would be a next time.

Virgil was persuaded to have a snack while he waited, for hospitality’s sake rather than need; and he and Roman sat down to share a bag of cheese crackers while Logan got the light.

…

Roman sat down on the arm of the chair, watching as Virgil inspected one of the cheese crackers before finally taking a bite.

“So… what’s it like living in the walls?” Roman asked.

Virgil glanced at him warily, then swallowed. “Who says I live in the walls?”

Roman blinked. “Well… where else would you live?” Virgil, Patton, and Emile had all travelled up through the walls towards their home, even if they hadn’t said exactly where that was “…Do you live under someone’s floor? Or in the ceiling?” He paused, reaching for another handful of crackers. “Those are all kind of the same thing, though, right?” He shoved the snacks in his mouth.

Virgil sighed, apparently conceding the point.

“So, what’s it like?”

“What’s it like not living in the walls?”

Roman made a thoughtful noise. “Fair.” Virgil probably didn’t have a great sense of how to compare that aspect of his life to any other. While he had experienced a taste of what living in an apartment was like, but it wasn’t exactly… a normal situation.

They continued snacking in silence for a few moments, until Roman sighed and set his cracker bag to the side.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sounds like you’re going to.”

That wasn’t a refusal, Roman noticed. He decided to go ahead and ask. “Well, it’s just… I’ve been nothing but nice to you, or at least, I know I’ve tried to be, but… sometimes it still seems like you hate me. Why?”

Virgil glanced over. “…I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t like me,” Roman insisted. “Or don’t trust me, anyway, even after everything. Why?”

Virgil shifted, uncomfortable.

Roman waited.

“…It’s because you’re a human,” he admitted. “Yeah, you helped Patton, and yeah, you helped Emile. And I’m very thankful for that—you know I am. But that doesn’t change what you are.” He glanced away. “It’s not your fault, and I’m trying my best to ignore it—I swear I am—and I do… ugh, I do like you, I guess, but… you and Logan are human. And humans hurt people like us. They capture us, they either kill us or keep us as specimens or make us into pets—” he grimaced— “or they make us into playthings. Patton isn’t an outlier. I’ve heard the stories.” He shook his head. “I know you two are nice, but… I can’t just ignore that, even if I want to. So… so I’m probably not ever going to stop being… kind of afraid of you.”

Roman looked down, his heart sinking at Virgil’s words. He felt rather speechless at the sheer certainty in the little’s eyes. The urge to be defensive was still there—if all he and Logan had done wasn’t enough to fully earn his trust, then what was? But he stopped himself. Instead, he took a second, and he thought back, back to when he and Logan had first found Patton, hiding in that conch shell on that fateful day at the beach.

They’d brought Patton home with them in order to help him; but as much as he hated to think about it, Roman had to admit that Virgil had a point. In those first few seconds after Logan and Roman had found Patton, their first instinct hadn’t been to let him go. It hadn’t been to help. Logan had simply shouted at Roman to catch him, and Roman had jumped in front of the little, cutting off his escape. It was only afterwards that Patton had collapsed, when they had realized the true severity of his condition, that they had changed their approach. Roman remembered clearly the moment the surprise, the wonder, the confusion, the excitement, had drained out of him and been replaced with nothing but fear and concern for the little guy.

Had Patton not been so sick, had he not been hurt, had he not already been so clearly emotionally scarred, Roman honestly couldn’t say what he would have done. Would he and Logan still have brought him home with them? Even against his will?

…Probably, he thought, thinking of Logan’s notebook. Of his own burning curiosity about the small, strange creature. Of the fact that Logan had, despite his good intentions, literally put him in a cage. And of the fact that Roman hadn’t stopped him.

Roman was glad that things had not gone any further down that path. But under different circumstances, while he as much as any other person would want to think they could never do something like that… he could see how things might have gone very differently.

Roman turned his head to look back at the little, who avoided his gaze.

“I get it,” was all Roman said. And he did—as much as any human like him could. Maybe Virgil would always be a little afraid of him, and maybe he’d never be comfortable enough to do something like ride in his palm, like Patton had, but that was okay. Roman would respect his boundaries.

Virgil’s gaze darted back in his direction, and he nodded, looking relieved. “Good. Cool.”

…

By the time Logan returned with the light and the wire, Virgil had finished nearly two of the crackers. Logan sensed a slight change in atmosphere had occurred while he was gone, despite the cheerfulness of the way Roman was asking about the littles’ home—which, it sounded like, was apparently made up of two cozy, narrow rooms within a wall somewhere—but it didn’t seem that anything cataclysmic had gone wrong, so he decided to say nothing about it.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence, and held up the supplies he had put together.

“Do you want to take some of these back with you?” Roman asked once Logan had carefully put the items up on the shelf, holding up the bag of cheese crackers. “I don’t think I can finish them all.”

Virgil squinted, disbelieving. Which was fair, given how few were left.

“I bet Patton would like them,” Roman continued thoughtfully. “He does love cheese.”

Virgil grumbled, but he was already moving to put some of the crackers in his bag. Roman grinned and put a couple more on the shelf.

“So… I know you already said they’re fine, but how are Emile and Patton?” Logan asked, feeling rather left out of their earlier conversation. He’d certainly be asking Roman to share what they had talked about with him, later. “Is Emile getting around okay? Is Pat still having nightmares?”

Virgil finished packing up the crackers. He chewed on his lip, then seemed to take pity on them. “Em’s good. He’s been resting a lot, still, but he’s okay. And Patton’s fine. I think being home helps. He hasn’t really had any nightmares, at least that I know of.”

Logan smiled. “That’s very good news, Virgil.”

“Yeah.” Virgil nodded. “Anyway, um, I’ll bring Patton in…  probably another couple weeks?”

Logan felt his smile widen, and he nodded. “That sounds perfect.” He would have liked to see Patton sooner, of course; but he assumed the wait was likely because of the length of the trip (he wasn’t sure exactly how long that was, but he knew it wasn’t short) and because Virgil probably didn’t want to leave Emile home alone yet. It would be a while, he assumed, before Emile was well enough for a visit.

Virgil got to his feet, grabbing his crutches. “So… I guess  I should be going.”

Logan’s smile faltered slightly, but he only inclined his head. “Of course. Please give our best to Patton and Emile.”

“Tell them I said hi,” Roman added. “And tell them I quit my job, so no more grocery cart duty! No more asthma attacks!”

“Oh… sure,” Virgil said, looking mystified, most likely about what a grocery cart was. “I’ll tell them.” He put his backpack around his shoulders. “Well… thank you again, for everything.”

“Thank you for coming back,” Logan replied sincerely.

Virgil nodded, offered them a half-smile, and ducked back into the wall.

…

Three more weeks went by before the littles returned to see the humans again; but Virgil and Patton did return, as promised. Patton had wanted to go back sooner, and he knew that Roman and Logan would want them to as well, but he and Virgil had decided to wait one more week.

The reason why they had waited currently stood between Virgil and Patton, his arm still in a sling, and part of his tail still in a splint, but now walking without aid from either of them: Emile.

Patton stepped out from the wall first, bolstered by the sound of quiet voices from the kitchen, confirming that his humans were home.

“Hello!” the little called out cheerfully, as Virgil and Emile carefully followed him out onto the shelf. “Roman! Logan!”

The voices stopped immediately, and there was the sound of two chairs being pushed back before Roman and Logan hurried into the room. Their faces lit up, and Patton beamed at them.

“Hey, guys!”

“Greetings.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Virgil said, walking closer to the edge of the shelf and stopping just shy of Patton. “Em wanted to come.”

Roman looked like he was barely containing his excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s okay!” he said. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

Logan’s features settled into a calmer smile. “What brings you here tonight?”

Patton shrugged. “We wanted to see you. It’s been a while.”

Logan bit his lip. Patton had a feeling he was trying not to get emotional. His heart went out to the human.

“Well… I’m glad.”

“I want to hear about Roman’s job thing!” Patton added, referring to what Virgil had told them after his previous visit. Hopefully, the story would include what exactly a job was, in the sense that humans talked about them; but Patton was sure he’d enjoy hearing it regardless. “And I bet other stuff has happened. And we can tell you about the new fish in 4B, and about how Virgil drove the rat out of the building!”

Roman glanced at Logan. “Drove the what out of the building?”

“Besides,” Patton continued, still smiling, “we never did get to finish Avatar.”

And so, Roman and Logan moved their dinner into the living room. The littles came down to the very same table where they had once stayed, sitting atop one of the pillows from Roman’s apparently extensive collection. They watched cartoons, and spent the evening talking, laughing, sharing food, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

...

Meanwhile, dozens of miles away, as the title sequence of that first episode played, a young blonde girl with pigtails stubbed her toe.

[mokutone]

,, i dont,, know jackshit about naruto,, but,,,,,,, your watercolor pieces are so good??? like???????? SO GOOD?????

Here's the obligatory ask (since I started trying to use watercolors): are you aware of any tips for that particular medium? Like, are the brushes and watercolor quality really important or is that just my imagination? Also, how 2 mix colors and not die-

LMAO thanks!! I’m glad you think so!

I do have a lot of tips for watercolor, but I’ll start with the material questions. I would say that the quality of the tools can be fairly important, but like, it’s not make or break.

Supplies Information:

Disclaimer: None of this is necessary! You can make great art with any material available to you. All materials have different strengths and weaknesses, but you can create things that bring joy with the most rudimentary of supplies. 

I tend mostly to use liquid watercolors because I find them easier to control and manage (and I just...like working out of little bottles of liquid with eyedroppers. It’s my ink bias), but they have significant drawbacks. Archival speaking? light will bleed all the color out of what I have created eventually! They aren’t built to last. That doesn’t worry me much because I tend to stack all my drawings up and shove them in a drawer when I’m done, but it’s something to keep in mind. I find them easy to mix and manage in the pallet, and easy to reactivate if they dry out 

The brands I use are Dr. PH Martin’s Concentrated/Radiant Watercolor, and Ecoline Watercolor. Between the two, I would recommend Ecoline because they are cheaper, have more consistent texture, and have more in the bottle. Honestly, if the art store near me wasn’t on a huge sale, I never woulda gotten the PH Martins, they’re expensive as hell and just incredibly teeny glass bottles.

BUT, if you want to use watercolor that comes in tubes (which will last longer, give you more options for artistic expression—because the texture ranges from paste to watery, you have all that range to experiment with—and which most watercolor artists prefer in general) there’s a lot more options. The highest quality for the cheapest price I’ve found are the Turner’s watercolor tubes? I don’t always love the texture when I’m wetting the paint because I am picky, but the color is incredibly vibrant, and the prices are incredibly affordable compared to like, schminke or cotman haha. I used these in school and had a great time with them.

Brushes I know a lot less about, like almost nothing honestly, I wish I could give you some concrete advice on brushes but what it really comes down to for me is like, if you like the way it feels in your hand, if you like the way it makes a mark, it’s good. all it exists to do is facilitate You making a mark on the paper with some artistic medium, as long as you are satisfied with it, that’s good. 

If you want brush recommendations though, I’ve been told that Princeton’s watercolor brushes (i have a couple from the Heritage and Velvetouch series) are good synthetic brushes for...moderate prices. Brushes are expensive. Usually people recommend you have a #2 and #4 Round, and a smaller detail brush, but again, really, like all things art it all comes down to your preferences, and your needs. 

Actual Painting Tips:

Take care of yourself! Treat yourself kindly, forgive yourself for making mistakes. I’m dead serious. It’s impossible to avoid making mistakes, and in watercolor the mistakes are really hard to fix, and usually impossible without the use of gouache or something else opaque, so at some point it’s going to become an exercise in forgiving yourself for making those mistakes, like drawing in pen with no under-sketch.  On a good day, I find this therapeutic. On a bad day, it’s maddening. It’s okay not to make art on a bad day. When it comes to something you do because you enjoy it, and want to continue enjoying it, it’s important not to force yourself to do anything you don’t want to, and to take breaks when you feel yourself getting frustrated.

Paint from Lightest color value to Darkest. If you’re going to paint a character with a bit of a rim-light from some golden sunlight, paint that light light yellow first, top to bottom, and then work your way to the darker colors.

If you’re painting on a tilted surface (I’m guilty of keeping my sketchpad or paper block on my knees) paint from top to bottom. The weight of the water will pull the paint down, so you want to work with gravity, not against it! 

Limit yourself. Let yourself only work with one color for a day or so, then only two colors, then only three. When you put yourself in a corner where you don’t have a lot of options, you’ll often find you surprise yourself with what you come up with. Usually, I pick three colors, put them down on my pallet, and leave them there for a week or so, mostly just painting from those colors. It helps me develop a familiarity with how those colors work together, and how they work when I mix them. 

Mixing Colors:

another thing I should say about the Dr.PH Martin’s watercolors is that they don’t always mix well. I tried to get a skin tone for Kakashi once out of pink, green, and a little bit of brown, and in the mixture you could see all of the colors that went into it, and it gave a very strange look. I liked it as a color, but it definitely looked weird.

The paint that you use will have properties specific to itself, and you will get more familiar with those properties as you work it. It may mix smoothly on the pallet, it may not, and both of those can be good if you’re willing to work with them. 

Because of watercolor’s properties, there’s three main ways to mix it:

One: Mixing in the palette. What it says on the tin—you mix the paint, you put it on the paper. I do this one the most, it just takes a lot of familiarity with your paints to get used to the balances that create the colors you want, just lots and lots of playing around.

Two: Mixing dry. This isn’t really “mixing” per se, but it does the same job, Watercolor is a transparent medium, and one that reactivates when wet, so if you put one color over another, it’s about the same as mixing.

Three: Semi-wet mixing. The combination of the two! You can get some weird effects out of this. I use it sparingly, but I love to use it when I do.

The most useful physical tool for me (just me personally) in mixing is a pallet i have, and while it’s fairly cheap and should last like, idk forever, there are other ways to get a similar effect without it, as long as you give yourself space to mix.

it looks like this, it’s a porcelain pallet (so the cleanup is incredibly easy, unlike my plastic one, which unfortunately wants to hold my color a little) and i use it almost daily. The circular wells are for where you put the bulk of the color you will be using, and the rectangular wells are for mixing either with water, to get more translucent colors, or with other colors. The limited wells but excess of mixing space puts pressure on me not to use too many colors, but to mix them constantly. (but also has enough divided space that I don’t feel anxious about everything getting muddied. i am very particular.)

It’s heavy though, and while its therefore good for sitting on my desk and not getting knocked off by my cat or me, it’s not easily portable, especially as it’s uncovered if that's something that is important to you. Blick’s probably has them, as does...I imagine any other art retailer? They’re fairly popular. Usually around 6-8$ but again, none of these tools are necessary, they are just what suit me personally. I hope this helps! If I have the energy for it, at some point I’ll post some basic watercolor exercises to help with control and technical skill. You can get very good with any medium just by raw continuous practice, but my teacher last year had us do a lot of exercises that not only gave me a much greater comfort and confidence with watercolor, but that were also just...incredibly meditative to do.

[monstersandmaw]

Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆

Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3

Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖

Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!

(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)

Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.

Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020

Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for

Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply

Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper

Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)

Start a bullet journal

Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives

Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change

Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)

Light a candle on the full moon or New Year

Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.

Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.

Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.

If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace. 

Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too. 

Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.

Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful. 

Elsa Rhae

Pick Up Limes

Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.  

Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.

It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.

As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place. 

Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!

Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with: 

On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.  

Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow. 

I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).

Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!

[give-seconds]

Survival of the Fittest

Summary: Welcome to the Badlands of Montana! This will be the setting of our game. What’s the name of the game? Simple, make it out alive. In which you and Jaemin are kidnapped and forced to try and find your way out of the Badlands.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“What’s that?” Jaemin asks as he walks over and picks up his sweatshirt.

“I think it’s a walkie-talkie.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the device comes to life. “Numbers 24 and 25.”

---Part 5

You and Jaemin freeze at the voice, turning to look at each other with wide eyes. Once Theos’ voice continues, your attention is brought down to the device in your hand.

“In past experiments, I have refrained from talking to my subjects until later, but I decided to make an exception for you.

“In the past, I’ve had subjects that took a day to move from the starting point; I’ve had subjects that started the game by going in the wrong direction; I’ve had subjects that missed the first bag; and even some that missed all three. But you two, you two are by far my most promising batch.”

As the words hit your ears, your stomach flips. His voice is like the voice of a proud father whose child won first place in a competition.

“Now, you might not be the first batch to escape, but there’s no doubt in my mind you two will be the cream of the crop so to say.”

“If we’ve already proven ourselves, why don’t you tell us we’re walking in the right direction? Rewarding good behavior and all.”

You’re surprised by the strength in Jaemin’s voice. Despite not having seen Theos, his voice alone is enough to scare you in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Instead, I’ll tell you why I chose you two to be my final subjects.”

You and Jaemin nervously glace at each other before looking back down at the device in your hand.

“I first saw you, Jaemin, at the grocery store. I remember thinking how weird it was that someone so young was shopping with someone even younger. So I followed you home, and I waited. I waited for three days, installing one of my cameras across the street so I could watch you without being there, and your parents never came home. So I went back to your house, waited until you and your sister were at school, and then broke in.”

Your head snaps up to look in Jaemin’s direction just in time to see the color slightly drain from his face. Your doom always had random people in it, your roommate is somewhat of a party person. Even if the parties were just five friends sitting on her bed, you learned to get over the uncomfortable feeling of random people in your space.

Jaemin shared a house with his family, presumably the house he and his sister grew up in. The idea of someone coming into something so private, someone as sick as Theos, was nauseating.

“Turns out, your parents left for Africa last year. You were left to take care of little Emma, even if she was a freshman at the time. Because that wasn’t the first time you had to take care of her, was it?”

“I don’t - this can’t have anything to do with why I’m here.”

Your heart breaks slightly how comparatively shaky his voice is, and it took everything in you not to look at him. He doesn’t need your questioning looks on top of everything else.

“Oh, but it does. You’ve taken care of Emma since you were in middle school, but not because you wanted to. If I learned anything from your parents’ service journal, they left you alone as soon as you turned ten. But if I had to guess, they weren’t around much before then.

“Reading those journals, along with that note Emma wrote you for your birthday thanking you for taking care of her, I knew I had to have you.”

Theos pauses, and you take the opportunity to try and mentally prepare yourself for “your story.”

“And then I saw you, y/n. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what first drew me to you. Maybe it was the countless hours you spent in the student lounge or the library while your roommate invited people over.”

You already felt sick for Jaemin, knowing this sicko had not only been watching him and his sister, but broke into their house and looked through their things. But knowing all that wasn’t enough to prepare you for the different kind of sickness that coursed through your body at the sound of your name.

“Or maybe it was the fact that after learning your name and searching for any social media, I couldn’t find any. I mean you have to admit, someone in this day in age not having any social media is pretty interesting. So when I wasn’t watching Jaemin, I was trying to find information on you. Eventually, I found your ex-husband, and I was shocked for the second time during my investigation. Here you are, a freshman in college, and you’re already a divorcee? I had to find out more. Skipping all the boring details, I managed to find out about your family.

“Your mom had been married three times, two alcoholics and one weirdo. If I’m right – that is, if Sam is right – you were kicked out at age 15? He also said that when you were kicked out, you lived with your dad. That he would refuse to take his medicine and would have seizures. He said you were always the person who had to take care of him.”

“Oh my God,” you whisper, bringing your hand to cover your mouth in shock.

You know the only person who would know that is Sam; he’s the only person you’ve told this to. You may not have spent a lot of time together, but the only condition Sam had for giving you the ticket here was that you told him about your life.

“I know you’re doing this as a test, but please tell me he’s okay?” You can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you, but you keep your eyes trained on the device.

“See, that’s the second plot twist I found in my research about you. Why would your ex-husband care so much about you? And judging from the fact he’s the last person you texted, I’d say you don’t hate him. After some convincing, I got Sam to tell me why you two got a divorce. He wants to love you, but he can’t. He’s aromantic.

“He told me he didn’t want to get too close to you in case you caught feelings for him. So instead of befriending you, he acted as cold to you as he could. He told me he could see how much you were struggling and that he liked it; it was easier for him to learn about your troubles instead of dealing with his own.”

“I know all this, I’m asking if you’ve hurt him.”

After hearing the strength in your voice, you understand how Jaemin was able to speak so confidently before. It isn’t about actually feeling in control, it’s about not letting the man spitting hurtful words at you win.

So yes, the reminder that even though you pretended not to know why Sam helped you, you knew why. That even though you told Jaemin he probably saw you as a charity case, the reality is, he saw you as a distraction. He used your problems to hide from his own, drinking in your life stories to ignore the fact he didn’t fit into the mold society had set.

He told you all this through a letter, apologizing for using you and acting the way you did. He explained that even though it started as a way to hide from his problems, it ended up

confirming the doubts he had. “I can’t stay married to you” he had written, “but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I owe you.”

When you read that, it wasn’t that he had used you that hurt most. It was that he was the one person you thought wouldn’t have the energy to be fake to you. You always thought Sam was just bored and looking for something to fix. He never tried to help you fix those relationships, instead offering a way out. It was refreshing to not have to deal with fake politeness.

As it turns out, he was fake from the very beginning. And after figuring that out, it was just easier to portray Sam as the man you thought he was.

“Did you love him? Or was he able to pull off that cold, distant personality better than I give him credit for?”

Theos’ voice draws you out of your thoughts, only to render you speechless once again. This entire time, the only thing you thought you had the upper hand on was that there was no one relying on you. You often pushed the thought of Jaemin’s sister from your mind. You know what it is like to be alone, and imagining that girl alone and scared for her brother’s safety made you anxious. With such thoughts for someone you didn’t know, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that no one was waiting for you.

Now that someone could be hurt because of you, someone you didn’t even love, you felt like you were suffocating. He had hurt you, but he didn’t deserve to be wrapped up in this.  

“I’ll let your silence speak for itself. You’ll be happy to hear that he’s safe with the subjects that escaped. I hope you feel special number 25, I haven’t had to kidnap anyone for information before.”

He laughs to himself, and you imagine he meant it as a genuine compliment.  

“As I said at the start of this game, I think you two are my most promising batch. You both have someone to live for, someone who depends on you. Both of you are fighters, not the type to give in. I thought these stories were important to tell you both, after all, trust is the important thing when trying to survive together.”

With that, the line goes quiet. A silence hangs over you two as you both continue to stare down at the previously live device.

“We um, we have to keep going,” he says quietly, breaking the silence. He lightly pushes your hand holding the walkie-talkie down to your side.

“Let’s change out the camera first.”

You shake your head, trying to push the conversation with your capture from your mind. Silently, you drop the walkie-talkie back into the bag and start looking for the cameras.

After you both exchanged the cameras, you transfer the leftover supplies from the old backpack into the new one. Before you had found the walkie-talkie, you were going to suggest that you two stop to eat. But now, and you’re sure the same is for Jaemin, you feel too sick to eat.

Silently handing him the bag, you can’t help but notice the shift in his attitude. You yourself are in no mood to partake in one of the many time passing conversations you two have come to have. But his attitude feels different, like he’s a shaken bottle of Coke ready to explode.

“Are you okay,” you ask timidly, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“I’m fine.”

“Jaemin-“

“No, y/n, no,” he snaps, turning to face you. “Just because we now know each other’s backstories doesn’t mean you get to do whatever this is. I’ve worked hard to make sure no one knows that about me and Emma. I called the schools for her when she’s sick, I taught her how to drive, and I’ve handled every finance that aren’t bills,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “My parents have the decency to do that for us. So don’t think just because you know this about me means I need your help. Because I don’t.”

For the second time in the past five minutes, a silence hangs over you two. You’re staring at him, a blank look spread across your face, as he stares back, breathing heavily from his sudden outburst.  

As shocking as it is, you can understand it. He’s feeling the same things you feel about your past.

Fear and shame.

Fear that because of his parents, he’ll be looked down upon. And shame because while he's afraid of being looked down on, he knows it’s justifiable.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Just because I know that about you doesn’t mean I get to try and help you. God knows if any of us need help, it’s me. So let’s keep going.”

He looks at you, confusion replacing his previous hardened expression. You slightly smile at him, hoping to show him you’re on his side.  

“Come on,” you say, reaching out your hand to grab him and start walking. You’ve never been good at subtle comfort, but you’re hoping that by showing him you’re not going to judge him is a good start.

At first, he lags behind a few steps, letting you drag him. But when he eventually falls into step with you, he smiles at you over his shoulder, the same kind of smile you gave him.

Trust is everything when you’re trying to survive.

---

I’m sorry that took forever! I decided to join a few collabs to get over the writer’s block (which worked for the most part) and those ended up taking more time than I thought they would. 

I hope everyone has an amazing day/night, and I sincerely thank you for taking the time to read my stuff.  

Taglist: @drydrops891 

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[mahou-furbies]

It is time for

Last year the Dazzling Pink Precure were supposed to host the event but were unavailable due to being redesigned, but this time they are ready for the job!

Here is the magical girl (and related) media consumed on this blog this year:

(you can read my closing thoughts on them here)

Anime: Kaitou Tenshi Twin Angel & the 2 OVAs, Twin Angel Break, Pretear, Happy Seven, Ojamajo Doremi (started), Healin’ Good Precure (most of it that’s out now), Magia Record (also following the game news though I don’t play), Myriad Colors Phantom World, Re:Creators, Concrete Revolutio)

Movies: Fresh, DokiDoki, Happiness Charge, Go! Princess, KiraKira & Star Twinkle Precure season movies, Spring Carnival & Miracle Universe crossover movies, Magical Sisters Yoyo and Nene)

Manga: Magical Girl Site (finished), Zodiac P.I. (reread), Sugar Sugar Rune (reread), Nogi Wakaba is a Hero, Puella Magi Suzune Magica (reread), Puella Magi Tart Magica (reread), Can You Become A Magical Girl, Colourful Macchiato)

(revisits to old familiar stuff don’t qualify for an award unless I had forgotten everything about it, Doremi is ineligible since I've only seen 1/5th so far)

Unexpectedly I managed to finish quite a lot of stuff on my last year's "plans for 2020 list".

As for blog stuff, this year the Precure Chibi Project was concluded for the designs that exists so far, but obviously it will continue when more are released and I'd also like to draw some more of the civilian clothes too. But this year over 400 chibis were drawn...

Then we of course had the Precure Dress Tournament, with Cure Magical emerging as the winner. Hosting it was a lot of fun since I like graphs and numbers, as the fact that I keep a google sheet that documents the dates when I draw the chibis (it also calculates useful data such as how many percent I've finished).

(Also Megumi's heart dress should totally have won the tournament)

The Precure positivity posts were also a thing this year. Usually the franchise is bitched at here at Mahou-Furbies so I tried to say something nice about each Cure that I had seen. Which was a major struggle in some cases but hopefully they don't come across as too much damning with faint praise. I plan on writing similar posts for the Cures from the other seasons too as I watch them, but also because I managed to write an entire post about Mana without complaining I take that as justification that I get to write a huge bitchy "the flaws of the Precure franchise" post later.

And then now at the end of the year the Dazzling Pink Precure finally managed to emerge again with their new designs. I hope I'll be able to post more about them in 2021!

And now, the Mahou-Furbies 2020 magical girl awards!

Let's start with Best Henshin Design: Megumi Moka from Magia Record! I always love a good sweets theme and I can't get over how cute she is.

(Kikko from Concrete Revolutio was also a strong contender)

Best Team Design goes to Nogi Wakaba Is a Hero, I've always loved the YuYuYu henshin outfit design.

The Best Powerup Look award goes to Lala's Cancer form in the Star Twinkle Precure movie! I just really like the fresh colour palette...

Runner-up is Nagisa's MagiReco Valentine's outfit which I like for being sweets themed but I guess it's more like an alternate form than a powerup?

There weren’t that many contenders for Best Civilian Design but let’s say that since I like the casual outfits in KiraKira Precure in general, The Movie was also good at this. So let’s reward Ciel’s look, it’s nice to see a more muted colour palette in Precure every now and then!

Oh, right! Also everyone from the Star Twinkle Precure movie! Love all their outfits. 

Best School Uniform is the one from Sukoyaka Middle School, from Healin' Good Precure! I like the colour palette, and the cut of the dress.

The uniforms from the Twin Angel franchise are also fun with their cherry ribbon.

Best Hair award goes to Kikko, from Concrete Revolutio! The "rectangular" cut ends are fun.

Best Magical Item is Mamika's wand from Re:Creators! There's really nothing special about it, I just think it looked nice enough with the candy cane and the heart crystal (and also not so merchandise driven since this isn't a kid show).

The Best Henshin Scene award goes to Sudachi from MagiReco! I don’t like how detailed all the body curves are drawn in the few seconds before her outfit appears, but otherwise there’s great backgrounds in this, starting from the space theme, twinkling stars, beautiful blue sky and then ending with cute hearts.

Best Fan Creation award goes to Marighoul’s comic “First Hunt”! (read it here) It was a fun little story and the colours were amazing!

Best Relationship is Hikaru and Lala with the alien in the Star Twinkle movie! I would never have guessed that I’d enjoy Precures raising a “baby” mascot this much, but it is true! I love how much role their bond had in the story, and the conclusion was more epic than anything Precure has managed to offer elsewhere. 

The Best Mascot of 2020 is... the aforementioned alien UMA! Unusual design for a girl show, doesn’t have an annoying voice or speech pattern (or in fact doesn’t talk at all), and has an interesting role in the story.

Second place is Nyatoran from Healin' Good Precure, he pairs well with Hinata and I love the scene where she records cat videos of him with her phone.

As for Best Supporting Character, this is a joke character, but I have to say Mayune from Pretear. I'm sorry I just like this kind of dumb diva characters (with the o-ho-ho laugh!) and always had a good time when she was on screen.

Discount Tuxedo Mask from the Twin Angel franchise was also fun, he had nice chaotic energy to him.

Best Visual goes to Kikko's magical effects from Concrete Revolutio! We always get the standard sparkles so I was so happy to see something different for once.

Best Audio award goes to Pretear OP! The song feels a bit dated but in a good way, this is just the kind of music I like.

The Best Scene award goes to Healin' Good Precure attack!

Usually in Precure I really don't care for the stock attack animation and instead just focus on the henshins, but in this one I really like the bit where the giant hands rip the element spirit out of the enemy. The music is so good in that part, and the huge hands compared to the tiny spirit feel majestic.

I also liked Re:Creators scene where the (in-story) writers create a powerup for their character by getting their audience excited about it by tweeting. It was dumb how a tweet from some ranobe author goes viral in a matter of seconds, but I still thought the scene was fun and worked well.

The Innovation Award for doing something magical girl related I haven't seen dozens of times already goes to Happy Seven! I thought it was fun how the main character wasn't on the magical girl team at all and instead was practically the Muggle friend for most of the story!

Re:creators is the runner up here with its "fictive characters show up in our world" story, but I think it could have done more with the idea, and I think Happy Seven is commendable for doing something that feels refreshing without having to be all smart and self-aware about it.

Then the Golden Mana Award for one thing that I really didn't like this year. 

The questionable honour goes to Meguru's unbearable behaviour at the start of Twin Angel Break, when she keeps pushing her friendship on the blue girl who has made it very clear that she'd rather be left alone. And of course the blue girl is secretly lonely and ultimately caves in so Meguru faces no consequences for being selfish and entitled and having zero respect for other people's boundaries. Stuff like this fuels my rage at the Friendly-And-Energetic-Stock-Magical-Girl-Heroines.

For Best Character I want to pick Lala from the Star Twinkle movie but she won Best Character last year so let’s pick someone else. To be fair nobody (else) this year made me super excited, but leaving such a broad category as this completely empty would be really stupid, so the winner is Himeno, from Pretear!

She had a lot more multifaceted personality than I initially predicted, had interesting and different relationships with many different characters, and of course had many unique henshin!

And finally, Best Work of the year... I know I picked Star Twinkle as the best series last year (award has been renamed now) so this feels somehow redundant, but I still can't get over how enjoyable their film was and as you may have noticed it has been mentioned in plenty of other awards already so it deserves the spot. On principle I liked that it wasn't centered around the pink Cure for once, and additionally it was about Lala who is my favourite Cure, and also since there wasn't really a villain the plot was more interesting than the same old "bad guy wants to take over the world". Also great visuals.

And that’s it for 2020! It has been a weird year, but that didn’t really show on this blog.

Plans for 2021:

Also once I finish drawing the chibis for the Madoka girls, expect a Madoka themed character tournament in 2021!

[asktheheirofslytherin]

The children were grateful for the autograph, they have it hanging by the ones they have of quidditch players, Nathaniel was insistent because you had “done the greatest deed in this mess”, keeping his favorite store open. Children’s priorities amaze me every day, Maeve was insistent this week that she share her toys with the house elf because Whimsy should get to have playtime too.

My eldest niece Maisie is 18, she was a Ravenclaw and has been immensely helpful in making sure the others educations don’t fall behind. She’s also been helping me go through and pack what remains of our extended families library collections, she’s even got one of the heaviest boxes marked for ones she wishes to read herself. It’s quite funny that for having such a strict analytical mind that she is an accomplished seer. I think her determination to understand and control her gift is actually what has allowed her to succeed. Nathaniel is her younger brother he’s turning 13 soon, he is a Gryffindor through and through, a rambunctious trouble maker who doesn’t always thinks things through but it ultimately loyal. Then comes the twins, Luna and Luca, they’re 9 now and both quite quiet. However Luna has an affinity for plant life and nature based magic, and well Luca is just a bit of a pyromaniac. Their brother Leo is the youngest in my care, only 18 months old. Then there’s Maeve, the animal lover who stayed at our hounds sides all week until we heard the news, she’s to turn 5 soon. I honestly sometimes wonder if she’s actually able to communicate with the different creatures she always seems to find, she says she can but children that young are known to imagine theses sorts of things, especially after trauma.

Maeve unfortunately saw my youngest sister and her husband die, they were in a bookstore that got attacked. Maisie and Nathaniels father, my older brother, was attempting to protect their home from looters, he finished mending the protective shields but used too much energy and had none left to heal his injuries, their mother died years prior. I’m not quite sure what happened to the twins and Leo's parents, their father was my little brother and sent them to me, away from most of the violence initially in our ancestors home, but I received notice of their death not long after they arrived. There’s also a good possibility my youngest uncles three children, two sons and a daughter (14 b, 11 b, 7 g) will be put in my care if he does not come out of his coma. His wife’s parents can handle them short term, but are much too old to care for them in the long run.

By chance is the Bagshot Park Estate available or perhaps Claremont House Estate? They are a bit large, but we need land for when accidents happen, which they’re bound to when learning the old magic. Mess up one step and anything can happen. Also, the hellhound needs space to roam, especially when his mate visits.

I’ve been informed to properly join I’ll need to go through trials. I was wondering if I would be able to know what this entails. Also, as the children in my care come first, I must insist that they be settled in to wherever we find our new home in England before taking on these trials. They’ve been through so much I simply must ensure that they feel safe in their new home before spending much more time away from them.

Thank you again for your time my lord,

I hope to make your acquaintance soon,

Iona McKinley

(Maeve has included a drawing of our hellhound and his mate. Maisie says this gurdyroot Luna harvested earlier this week may be useful if you are not careful with the soup you consume and recommends paying close attention to the wives of men with whom you dine for the same reason within the next four weeks)

(Writer of this blog: this is quite fun thanks for doing this, I doubt I’d be able to consistently come up with answers for such a complex, selfish, and perfect cult leader, definite early signs of sociopath (killing that kids bunny and stealing others treasured and valuable things and lack of empathy) that seem somewhat canonical. Ik we know a lot about Voldemort which definitely helps but people who run these blogs in ways that seem true to character are talented. I always try to understand where people come from and what’s made them them. I try not to hate a person but only hate the actions and choices they make and the actions and choices that have effected them. But ik with some of these questions you get I’d probably have to really try to think hard about what the character would say and put a lot of focus on separating myself out of the equation. You’re kind of like a skilled method actor. Like Heath Ledger (RIP) was a wonderful and kind person, but he was so good at separating from himself and really becoming the joker.)

Children are indeed a baffling delight, are they not. I remember when Delphini was small, and she enjoyed giving me flowers to set upon my desk. I humored her, and there would be bouquets of daffodils placed around various dark texts and artifacts. What a sight that must have been! I was perhaps too annoyed with the child at the time. They do grow rather quickly. 

Maisie sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders, as any Ravenclaw does. A fine house - I am certain she knows Delphini, though Delphi was a bit of a wild teenager and I would imagine she would not have hung about anyone with half some sense at that age. Shame, truly. But she is calming down a bit now, as much as one can with someone like Bella for a mother. She takes after her mother in more ways than one, which is a blessing and a curse. 

A Gryffindor? How unfortunate, but it does sound as though you are raising him right. As for the smaller ones, they sound as though they will turn out well - despite the challenges. War is very hard on our children, unfortunately. My condolences for your losses. 

I recommend Bagshot Park. More land for the children to run amok on - especially if you gather up more.  

Ah, so you wish to take the Dark Mark? I had assumed you would not want to get terribly involved in government as you have the children no one in your position would get hounded after to take the Mark, with that in mind, so if you feel you must out of necessity, you need not worry. Ah, but Bella informs me this is sexist, and you may merely just want to take the Mark out of genuine interest. I admit, I grew up in a different time, and perhaps forget this on occasion. 

We do generally prefer an eldest son take the mark when he comes of age -  your oldest boy being a Gryffindor, he may resist this custom. However, if Maisie were to marry one of my ranks, (or I suppose take the Mark herself, if she is interested) then perhaps we can look the other way about the boy.   

The trials only last a night, and are a test of loyalty and strengths more than anything. There is dueling involved, so dress comfortably. But we can speak more to that once you are settled.

Regards, 

Lord Voldemort

[[OOC: sorry this answer took so long! But I tend to delay longer asks for when I have time and energy for them - longer questions do take longer to craft an answer. And thank you! <3 <3 <3 I am so glad you like my blog, and that you feel I do Voldy justice! I’ve never heard writing be compared to acting before but it really makes a lot of sense, and that is really cool to think about. Thanks again!]]

[daily-jaspvid]

Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Jaspvid fluff

This is the first chapter of my prequel series. This takes place the winter before the show takes place, in which Jasper happens upon David at a party. 

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it is quickly turning into at least 3 chapters. I can’t post the second chapter here, but chapters 1 and 3 will be here! No plot happens in chapter 2, just NSFT content heh.

also the title song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5Or6-HOveg

Here's part 1! Merry Christmas!

Gem insisted this party would be good; that she had seen this band perform before and how great they were live. With nothing better to do, I decided to tag along. After all, finals were over and we were due to celebrate before we headed home for winter break. 

When we arrived Gem was immediately distracted by the punch bowl conversation. From how many people stopped to greet her, I was reminded of how gregarious my friend was compared to me. Not wanting to harsh her style too much, I took my cup of punch towards the dance floor.  From the looks of it, the band was starting to set up, so the waiting stereo pumped out indie tunes. 

I idly bopped along to a familiar song when a firm force bumps me from behind. I stagger, holding out my drink to steady it. In the next beat, I feel hands brace my waist to steady me. The hands are warm, firm, but didn’t feel of ill intent. 

“Oh, sorry about that!” Chirped an equally as warm voice. I turn and the hands pop off me like old stickers peeling away. I see an auburn-haired man who offered a genuinely sorry smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied abruptly as anxiety swelled in me. Sure, I was expecting to meet a few new people today, but a cute ginger boy right off the bat? I guess Christmas was coming early. 

He wore a red button down and a pair of blue jeans. He appeared to be wearing a band tee, but I can’t figure out who in particular. His face shown with simply the brightest smile I have seen in years. It felt familiar. 

“So, uh… you ever see this band before?” I ask after a few awkward seconds of standing together. 

“I haven’t. Honestly, this is the first party I’ve been to this semester. I’ve been pretty busy between classes and student teaching. You?”

“Pretty much the same. I’m studying to be a writer. Not as exciting, I’m sure, but it’s an excuse to spend all my free time reading at home.” I admit with a quick and strained smile. Before he could respond, Gem came upon us with one of her friends. 

“Hey, you two! See, Cathy? I told you they would get along! We didn’t even have to enact the master plan!” Gem exclaimed, causing Cathy to stifle a laugh. 

“David, you’ve met Gem from my psych class,” she motioned to the mutual friend. “So you must be her friend from therapy, was it?”

I shoot Gem a look, which she just shrugged to. Damn psych majors and their gossip. “Yes, Jasper,” I confirm, offering my hand to her. She gives it a firm and professional shake. 

“Isn’t he just the cutest, Cathy? Hes such a little crab! It took me weeks to convince him to come!” Gem lamented. She moved in front of me to adjust my clothing, tugging at my popped collar to lay it down. I grimace, hand twitching with a desire to hide my exposed neck. I see David’s eyes flicker down to my neck before looking away, tension filling into his eyes. That was most people’s reaction when they see the scars there. The polite ones, anyway.

The conversation was cut short by the music lowering and a mic switching on. The band introduced themselves as Florist and began playing their easy, folky tunes to the milling crowd. Gem scurried off through the crowd to get closer while Gem hung back to tap away at her phone. Just as quickly as they came, I was once again left alone with the lithe ginger. I spent most of the set watching him from my peripherals. He swayed gently to the music, expression fixated intently on the band. He seemed to pour all of his focus into them and I could feel the aura force field around him, seeming to block everything else out. 

Before I could fully process his energy the set was already over. The band thanked us for listening and the previous playlist switched back on. By this point, people were beginning to collect their friends and head out. David seemed to be remembering his place among the crowd and looked around. Our eyes catch each other’s and I find my voice springing out before really even considering my words. 

“Hey. You wanna get some coffee?” The words tumble out, and by the time I get to the end of the statement, I can feel myself quivering with unease. If David picked up on this he didn’t show it. 

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to!” He chimed. David caught Cathy’s attention to let her know the plan. I felt a little bad about ditching Gem, but it wasn’t like she seemed very keen on hanging around me. It’s what she would want.

When we stepped outside it was, unfortunately, pouring rain. Freezing rain. I unrolled my sleeves to save myself from the cold a little bit.

“Damn, so much for getting anywhere in this. I’ll call us a Lyft.” We hung out on the porch while I set up the ride. 

Despite the weather, it arrived within minutes. We ducked in, only made mildly damn. Though the café was only a few blocks away, it felt longer in the silence. Once again I found myself watching him from the corner of my eye. As we turned the block the side of the road through his window showed the dark abyss of dense forest. His reflection in the window became water-warped, and the familiarity finally clicked. I let out a quick huff of my breath, catching his attention.

“Davey?” I asked tentatively. His head snapped up from his phone, eyes wide. He looked like he had seen a ghost. 

“Nobody calls me that. Not since I was a kid - except for Mr. Campbell, but-” He paused, his confused expression shifting to concern as I recoil at the name “Campbell”. Memories of my 11th summer come crashing back to me and I suddenly feel ill. As if on cue, our driver stops to drop us off. I have never been more thankful to stand in the pouring rain.

“Come on, you’ll get soaked to the bone!” David exclaimed, grabbing my hand to pull me into the café. 

Thankfully this place had good heating. The cozy café had few patrons. Most people were either at parties or already homeward bound to family. We stepped up to order and it wasn’t until the barista gave us a knowing smile that we realized we were still holding hands. Flustered, we take turns ordering our drinks. 

“So… You’re the Jasper I knew all those years ago? From summer camp? It’s been, what, 13 years? Man, it must really be a small world, huh?” He sighed nostalgically. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised I recognized you,” I admit with a shrug. “I guess I remember more about that last summer than I thought. For a long time it was such a blur, to be honest.”

We collected our drinks and headed to a space heater in the back of the café. It had a couple of chairs surrounding it that we settled in to. David flopped into his with a heavy, content sigh. I sat more forwardly in mine, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning towards the warmth. I felt numb, like neither the aching cold nor the radiating heat could break through to me. 

“You seem sad.” David’s voice broke through the silence once again. It was low and tender as he leaned over to me.

“I’m fine, really, just… a lot is coming back to me, is all,” I chew on my lip and spoke through grit. “A lot of not great thing happened that last summer we knew each other. Not great things that lead to worse things. It isn’t your fault, of course, It's just… forget it.”

David reached out a hand and placed it on my leg, giving it a squeeze. his eyes scanned as if searching for the right words to say but ultimately decided to remain quiet. We sat like this for a few minutes before I pulled out my phone.

“Hey, can I have your number? I’d like to keep in touch again if that's ok?”

“Of course! I would love to catch up!” Davey perked up as he received my phone and punched in his number. “So, what do you like to write?”

Hours soon had drifted by as we conversed. I soaked in every smile and laugh. Craved every new emotion I could draw out of his expressive being. Anything he had to give, really. Davey radiated with life. It poured out of his being, passion radiating like a star.

Oh, God.

I can’t be falling in love.

I feel my breath hitch as I suck in air. Davey notices and pauses his story to ask if I was alright, only for the clock to ding for 4 am. Shit. 

“You can crash at my place if you’d like.” he offers as we stand. I feel like I am going to faint back into the chair. Clearing my voice and adjusting my flannel, I nod.

“I’d like that more than anything right now.” I reply, taking up his offer and hoping I don’t sound too desperate. Just like that, we set back off into the rain and caught a ride across town to his apartment.

[fantasyoverreality98]

this is just a jumble of thoughts written during another breakdown.

trigger warnings for mentions of suicide and overall negativity.

---

it’s funny that i’ve spent nearly half my life torn between holding on just a little longer and giving up completely. this feeling has lingered around for ten years, never going away, no matter how hard i try to get rid of it.

there will be periods where i can go days, weeks, months, without feeling the emptiness or the sadness creeping in, but it always returns. it is the only thing i am certain of in this lifetime. that feeling will never go away.

for so long, i’ve tried to deny its existence, tried to be happy, tried to ignore the sense that i do not belong and that no one could ever genuinely care about me, because how could they?

really, it’s a bit sad how much i think i don’t deserve love.

how could someone so terrible have anyone who cares about them? how could they care when it always feels like i am the last person someone thinks of, the one who is the second thought, who is lucky to get a second glance because of how utterly despicable i am.

and i know this sounds like a sob story. in all honesty, it kinda is.

poor me. poor kyrene. she cries over stupid shit and hurts inside because she’s lonely.

don’t think i’m not aware of how worthless i am and how miniscule my problems are compared to other people in the world. you think that after twenty-two years of life i would have realized that i mean nothing to anyone, and yet i still hope.

the thoughts are crippling. any kinds of relationships i��ve ever had have been annihilated because of the fear i have that someone might actually care.

never let them get too close. show them the cracks in the armour and then run away and slam the gates down again. reveal glimpses of the loneliness, but never enough that it would seriously worry them. never reveal the plans you made to the people in your life because they’ll either tell you not to feel that way or never leave you alone. don't mention the thoughts of that bridge and just how many times it's crossed your mind.

don’t tell them you’re suicidal, they’ll call you selfish and try to assure you with empty words.

don’t go too long without talking to them, otherwise they’ll block you.

never show your true self, because she is a horrible human being.

i just want to be loved. for once in my life, i want to feel like the one who matters, the one who comes first and who makes that person feel loved in return.

but i know that that is where my being a horrible person comes into full play.

because i don't believe anyone actually cares about me, i have a hard time showing that i care about them. i feel like such a shit person, not knowing how to comfort people or convince them i care or actually voicing that i do care and feeling like their response means they either don't believe me or that they don't care as much as i do.

but it's probably me who doesn't care as much, and i absolutely despise myself because of that.

people have told me they love me, they have done nice things for me, they have tried to help me when the waves were crashing all around, and i have never believed it. there always has to be an ulterior motive. there’s no way someone would just love me, not when i’m so fucked up and struggle to accept compliments or tell other people that i actually do care in fear that they will either leave or take advantage of that.

who the fuck would ever see anything good about me? honestly? who sees this fucked up person, the one who’s good for absolutely nothing, and decides that they want to befriend her?

i hate myself so fucking much, it’s not even funny.

the fact that i continue to exist when people i loved, who were loved so, so much are dead, while i just waste space, is a travesty.

and i can’t even kill myself because it would be even more selfish to put my family through that for a third time in less than ten years.

sometimes i wish i just wouldn’t wake up. maybe i don’t want to die necessarily, but i do want to stop existing. i want proof that people don’t care about me, that my friends don’t give a shit about me and that i mean nothing to them, and yet when i get that confirmation i cry about it because i’m never happy.

it is so frustrating it is to live like this. my mind is playing a constant game that i never asked to be a part of and yet i cannot escape it.

writing used to be the way i felt a little useful but let’s be real here no one gives a fuck about my writing and the one person who seemed to is gone so what’s the point?

seriously, what’s the point?

no one actually believes i have the potential to become a published author and make a living off it. i don’t even believe that anymore after realizing just how mediocre i really am compared to every other writer.

i think i clowned myself the most by allowing myself to think anyone cared about my writing. who the fuck would care about some random person on the internet who loves writing? who gives a shit about some story about how it saved a sixteen-year-old from the grief of losing a family member to the very thing she’d spent her entire teenage years contemplating? none of that matters. this is all over the place and i’ll probably regret posting it but it has to get out so these feelings escape this mind and stop making everything worse.

why do i even exist? and maybe people don’t need a purpose, but i feel like my being around just makes the world a worse place. but then you’ll tell me that it’s silly to even think that anyone actually cares enough to hate me or give me a second thought. so i guess there’s no way to win anyway.

it must be exhausting to care about me. to love me. to hear me say that i feel like no one cares or loves me. to go days without hearing from me because i’m off having a meltdown thinking that no one would care if i came back anyway. and i realize that i’m contradicting myself by adding this acknowledgment of people loving and caring about me, but when did this mind ever make sense anyway?

because i do know that people care. out of the dozens of family, friends, and acquaintances, someone must care and love me. but it’s hard to believe it when your thoughts are always being an asshole. i’m such an asshole. it’s disgusting.

i wish i could be the positive person, the one who lights up the room, who draws people in because of the loving energy i give off. for a long time i’ve pretended to be that person, but it’s become too much to keep up the act.

so there you have it. i’m not the happy, loving, caring person i try so hard to be. underneath that façade is a darkness that grows with every passing year, killing me from the inside out. i’m sick. that’s the truth. maybe not in an obvious way, in a way that someone could look at me and know it, but it’s still there.

and i don’t think it will ever go away.

this is the way it’s going to be until the day i finally die. so i guess this feeling of being a shit person and like an outsider is all i’ll ever have to look forward to. oh joy.

[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (6)

Chapter 6: Lines Are Drawn | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

A/N: Wow, progress is a little slow now. I’m slightly bummed for some odd reason. With the chaos ensuing anywhere in the world, I’m also affected, one way or another. Given that I’ve come back to my work, the good thing is my company has shortened the work hours, though traffic is still a bitch. I’m beginning to see the new pattern to my work-life balance here. I’ve learned that coffee at night while writing gives me a boost of energy to keep writing. But I’m glad you guys are still looking at my stuff, even if only a few of you stop by every now and then. 💞💞💕💕 You guys have no idea how much it means a whole lot to me, the same way you guys matter. The world’s gone fucked, I hope you guys are safe, wherever you are. 🥺😪💝💖

Also tagging: @ayamenimthiriel​

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but never your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, you will never hear the end of me, my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

——————————————————–

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging me, dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, Count.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is not over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

He’s going to take me?

Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?

Who is the other man they were talking about?

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

Your mother was in there.

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. It never did.

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.