This hobby is getting fucking ridiculous. Years ago it was considered extravagant to buy sugarmag for your Blythe dolls and now it seems the norm to pay hundreds of dollars for designer dolly outfits. Are Blythe collectors getting richer or just so much more pretentious and gullible? It’s like reading “The emperors new clothes” over and over again…
My new girl is named Brennan! She had 2 outfit changes today, the first dress is for a doll called #cutiepop and the jumpsuit is by #sugarmag and I though it looked perfect for her, it came with a furry vest too. #blythe
TW for depression and implied self-harm. Stay safe and please take of yourselves.
Monoma Neito clicked his tongue as the boy from Class A threw the kid from the General Ed on the ground. What a total disappointment. For all his big talk and bluster, the blue-haired boy had folded just like all the others. It was becoming obvious that the kids from Class A had something they did not. Something he, too, didn’t have, did he? His defeat earlier today was an eloquent reminder of that. Still, the thought was bothersome and he wasn’t about to entertain it; there were always winners and losers and the divide was painfully clear - his mind didn’t need any additional help in winding itself up, but he didn’t want to let that old, familiar feeling in just yet.
Lost in thought, it took Monoma a second to notice the murmurs in the crowd around him. It wasn’t exactly intelligible, but there was approval in people’s voices - no doubt for the victor of the bout, who returned from the brink of defeat and made his superiority clear.
“Can you hear them, Shinsou?” A bright, clear voice rang from somewhere down below. “You’re amazing!” The cheer and support in the tone of the voice tugged at Monoma’s heart as he got up and started pushing and shoving his way down to the guardrail at the edge of the stands. It took him a good second to reach it - he made it just in time to see Shinsou, his eyes aglow with determination and pride.
“Even if it’s not now, I’m going to qualify for heroics, enter your department and show you all up as a fantastic hero!” There was a strength in the boy’s voice that he simply was not supposed to have - not after what had just transpired. One should draw the right conclusions from something like this.
Monoma felt his mouth contort into a bitter grin - an expression that felt very familiar on his face. Indeed, this was not right at all. Someone should do something about it.