where i end and you begin (the sky is falling in)

Why People Fall In Love

Muses: Jeon Jungkook.
Words: 4.7k words of cringe worthy fluff.
Type: fwb!au + fake dating!au
Note: This is another my ‘to be posted’ scenarios, posted.  Yay. :D

+ An agreement to become Jungkook’s fake girlfriend and a trip back to his hometown lets you see more of the Jeon Jungkook who you think is only made of Friday hookups and boyish charms.

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

“So let me get this straight, your brother’s bringing his girlfriend home for dinner this weekend and you ‘sorta’ blurted out that you have a girlfriend too just because you want to prove that he’s wrong about you not being able to keep a girl?”

Sheepishly, Jungkook smiles and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorta.”

At his nonchalance, you lightly smack his chest; it’s not like he’s going to feel anything if you straight out punch him anyway. “He’s totally right!”

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Masterpost of Cryptic Shit from The Adventure Zone

Because damn Griffin’s given us a lot of mysteries to work with. (Excerpts from the show under the cut.)

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the train of lost souls

fantasy au

pairing: jungkook | reader, hoseok | reader
genre: angst and tiny bits of fluff
word count: 13.610
warnings: mentions of past death 
author’s note: I promise it’s not tragic, though it might seem like it at first. pls believe in me! :)) on another note, let’s just pretend they are all the same age here, since I planned the story that way~

The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options.

You can choose to live, to be given a second and a last chance in life, in exchange for your memories and your previous existence. You can choose to be alive again, but it can only be an entirely new life. Everyone you’ve ever crossed paths with would forget your name. All the pain and the love you knew, all the ups and downs that made you hurt and made you smile — all of it, completely gone.

Or you can choose to move on, to give your life away while keeping your memories until the end of time. To step out of the world of the living and to embrace a new kind of loneliness, but with the warmth of your past always safe between your cold hands.

You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it.

The choice is solely yours.

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Medicine (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

I’m so sorry for any stupid errors, its 2am and my brain is mush but I can’t sleep so I sHALL WRITE


Request; You are Bucky’s personal medicine, the only one that can calm him down. And HYDRA used you to keep him line. And she is small and fragile but when Bucky is taken to the Stark Tower he wants her so the team has to go get her from the HYRDA base. And she doesn’t talk much and gets scared and only trust Bucky and he is protective over her

Other characters featured; sam, steve, nat 


Y/N - Your name

Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Warnings; talks about torture, language 

Word count; 1449

Originally posted by rohgers

‘He won’t snap out of it, Rogers,’ Natasha explained, a sigh evident in her voice. ‘Usually he comes around after a day, but it’s been nearly a week and-’

‘- You need to give him time.’ Steve interrupted, staring at his best friend behind the glass.

 An ex-HYDRA agent had triggered his Winter Soldier mode on a recent mission and after much destruction and pain, they’d managed to get him into a Hulk-proof glass room. He kept coming in and out of the phase over the course of the week, sometimes Bucky and other times the Winter Soldier.

‘I wasn’t finished.’ The ginger assassin continued. ‘I was reading his files - Looking at what they used to calm him back at HYDRA.’

‘Don’t even go there. He can’t handle anymore drugs.’

‘It’s not a drug, Steve.’ Sam was now stood beside them, Bucky’s file in his hands. ‘It’s a person. Y/N Y/L/N.’

Their converation was abruptly stopped by a smashing of a metal fist against the glass - Bucky was stood in front of them, breathing heavily. He looked angry, but there was a glint of nostalgia in his eyes.

‘What did you just say?’ He spat.

‘Y/N,’ Steve said slowly. ‘You know them?’

‘Y/N,’ Bucky stepped away, muttering to himself. ‘For the first time in six days, he was calm, his words wild as he stared furiously at the floor.

‘There we go,’ Natasha grinned to herself. ‘We need Y/N.’

Bucky’s eyes snapped back up to hers at the mention of the name again.

‘We need Y/N.’ Steve nodded, repeating her words back to her. ‘But is she still there? Is she even still alive-’

‘Don’t you dare say that!’ Bucky yelled, smacking the glass again. ‘Stop talking about me like I’m not even here!’ He stopped, breathing heavily. ‘Of course she’s alive. She has to be.’

‘I’ll try, Buck. I promise.’

He grabbed Natasha and Sam by the elbows, yanking them into the office opposite to the holding room and out of earshot from Bucky. Sam was still reading the file while Natasha was peering over his shoulder.

‘She used to be good at calming him down,’ She explained. ‘HYDRA tried to separate them, they were too dependent on each other. After that, they got angry and both attempted to assassinate their guards until within each other’s presence again.’

‘That’s wild,’ Sam commented.

‘And it’s just what we need.’ Steve replied.

‘Are you suggesting we break into a HYDRA base?’ Natasha’s green eyes thinned, her ginger falling over her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side. ‘But which one?’

‘SHIELD traced the last base to somewhere on the outskirts of the city last week,’ He responded. ‘Their planning the raid to destroy, but if we can get in and out quickly and quietly without them noticing, Fury will be none the wiser.’

‘You are insane, Rogers.’ Sam huffed. ‘But I’m in.’

‘Me too.’ Natasha replied.

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TOP eras as i see them with synesthetia

self-titled era: shaking hands. old keyboards. friends that talk behind your back. the feeling you get after staying up too late. being sleepy all day but suddenly feeling awake at night. recovery. reaching the end of a tunnel. slowly lifting your head. realizing you can make a better life for yourself. drawing on your skin. burning old photos. abandoned theme parks. art shows. swimming pools.

RAB era: baseball fields. skinned knees. falling down after running really fast. collapsing at the end of a sports match. rained out events. resting in the shade on a hot day. shaved heads. summertime. the last few weeks of school. only leaving your house if you feel that that day is going to be important. sudden bursts of inspiration. finding creativity you never knew before. worrying about everything. the lump in your throat after you’re trying not to cry. things building up. unspoken words. dogs. hiking. cleats. 

Vessel: sudden fellowship with others. finally reaching out to your friends. the cold rush of air on your face when a door opens. raising your arms towards the sky. finally getting counseling. screaming, but not knowing why. night terrors. pine trees. a feeling of being lost. lonely in a room of people. soda. carbonated water. pink and yellow and red and gray. smiling over sadness. anxiety. butterflies in your stomach. the smile you get when you begin to realize everything will be alright. 

Blurryface: realizing that your friends have helped you, but now is the part of the battle you must fight on your own. blasting music in the car. summer days. hot pavement. empty rooms. moving houses. shouting just to hear an echo. late nights driving. nightmares. graffiti. sirens. doing bad things, but desperately wishing you could do good. doing good but can’t stop thinking about bad things. fighting against the darkness that no one else can see. cracks in the ceiling. basements. spaces where you don’t feel quite real. falling into bed after a long day. the final great battle before the end of the war.

Mess o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s stolen from you and needs to fix it.

Request? No

Part 2: Mouth o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine

The apartment is dark, lights dimmed so you can set the mood for what you expect to be an emotional performance. Your laptop is plugged into the television and the screen is flickering, splashing colors across your face from a product commercial. Harry is across the world, about to premiere a song from his upcoming album on a popular talk show. Despite how excited you are to hear the music, you’re still nervous for him, as you always are. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll smash whatever he performs, but he always seems to get in his own way.

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A quick Clexa AU fic list as requested by anon

This is rather chaotic as I’ve put it together real quick and I’ve plenty favorites - I might add more as I remember or as I go through my reading (some are finished, some are on-going). For now though …

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  • @prettychritty requested: Can I please get a fluffy soulmate au with got7 Jackson, like where their soulmate’s first word is written on their wrist? And he’s an idol and you’re a fan and you guys meet at a fanmeet? Sorry if it seems confusing 😅 Thank you 💕

ardently, adjective

having, expressive of, or characterized by intense feeling; passionate; fervent: ardent love.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader

Genre: Fluff + Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2.42k

Authors Note: I have no idea how this is gonna be, but i hope you like it lmao… i really hope i made it so fluffy that you feel like cringing but still enjoy it o’ dearest one, please enjoy it.

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An overdue list of my favourite pieces and fic writers! The following is a collection of Jungkook x reader fics. A big thank you to all the fic writers included for inspiring me and above all sharing such amazing stories!

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February 10th at 7:43 est we have a full moon lunar eclipse at 22 degrees leo. This lunar eclipse is super interesting because it makes some pretty special configurations in the sky. Firstly an eclipse is a threshold. They tend to represent points of no return. Lunar eclipses particularly tend to “eclipse” things out of our lives. They are points of culmination and usually mark some kind of ending. That said eclipses are wild cards in a sense. A lunar eclipse is kind of like a supercharged full moon so there is that element of fruition as well. It can be a time of harvest. Most certainly it is a time of marked change. Eclipses are very powerful and can be felt for 6 months in each direction. This eclipse on the 10th is the beginning of a series of powerful eclipses with the culmination happening in late august in what is being called “The Great American Eclipse” where a full solar eclipse (that will be visible here) will traverse the entire united states of america, passing directly over us, beginning in the northwest of the country and ending in the southeast. This is going to be of extreme consequence to the USA. But we will focus on that later.

This current lunar eclipse is forming some very auspicious aspects with the planets in the sky. It seems to be in total harmony with the current transiting planets. It forms a mystic rectangle in fire and air, a five pointed star in fire and air, and a grand fire trine. Lots of passion around this eclipse and air fueling the flames of the passion. But the configuration is not tense. Everything is flowing harmoniously. This firestorm is not negative. It’s a point of passion, inspiration and fruition. It almost feels like a celebration of sorts. Whatever is “eclipsed” out of our lives moves us towards harmony and fulfillment. We see a reward for our efforts or the ripening of positive karmas. Something baneful is burned out of our lives.

With the jupiter uranus opposition involved it can be quite sudden and it can have a feeling of grandiosity. Wherever 22 degrees of leo falls in your chart is the place where there can be a much needed clearing or fruition. Jupiter will have just gone retrograde and will still be on the fixed star spica. They will be sextiling this eclipse. The eclipse will be trining uranus giving it an element of surprise. Jupiter will be trining the sun. Very fortunate. The sun will be sextiling uranus. Whatever tensions the oppositions between the sun and moon, and jupiter and uranus may cause flow out harmoniously into something positive. It’s the tension of a bow on violin strings that produces beautiful music. The eclipse and uranus will be in a grand fire trine with saturn. Saturn offers some stability here which is great because having an eclipse even in positive aspect with uranus can be disorienting in its suddenness and force. Some astrologers have predicted doom and gloom around this eclipse. But when I look at the sky, the supremely positive and harmonious aspects this eclipse makes with the planets around it tell me an entirely different story.

Let’s look at how this eclipse affects each rising sign:

Aries rising, this eclipse falls in your 5th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your children, your passions and creativity, your love life, or your luck.

Taurus rising, this eclipse falls in your 4th house. You can see some culmination of fruition around your home, your parents, your place of birth, your sense of stability and security.

Gemini rising, this eclipse falls in your 3rd house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your siblings, your community, your commute, in the ways you communicate, in the ways you think.

Cancer rising, this eclipse falls in your 2nd house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your resources. Your self worth. Your income. Maybe even how you dress or present yourself.

Leo rising, this eclipse falls in your 1st house. You can see some culmination or fruition in your entire life. This eclipse directly affects you and how you move through the world. effects can be seen in any or every aspect of your life.

Virgo rising, this eclipse falls in your 12th house. You can see some culmination or fruition in the things that undo you. Secrets are revealed. Some unseen aspect of your life gets brought to light. There could also be spiritual attainments or changes.

Libra rising, this eclipse falls in your 11th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your social circles, social status, and friend groups.

Scorpio rising, this eclipse falls in your 10th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your career and public image.

Sagittarius rising, this eclipse falls in your 9th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your spirituality, foreign travel, philosophy, your mentors or spiritual leaders. There could also be something around publishing.

Capricorn rising, this eclipse falls in your 8th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around inheritance, self transformation, your sexuallity.

Aquarius rising, this eclipse falls in your 7th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your relationships, your partnerships, close friendships. There could be things occurring around contracts and business deals.

Pisces rising, this eclipse falls in your 6th house. You can see some culmination or fruition around your health, your daily routine, your place of employment.

The Aftermath: Bucky (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU): In which Bucky reacts to finding out how you feel about him.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,740

A/N: I couldn’t write the next part of this series without giving you at least one scene from Bucky’s perspective. I’ve been excited to write this since I posted the original “The Aftermath”. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you for editing this on your phone, you’re the real hero today

Originally posted by kingsebastian

Forty Minutes Later

Bucky clutches his chest, trying to remove a dagger that isn’t really there. It feels like it is though. The look on your face before he left your apartment put it there.

It had to be done.

It had to be done.

No matter how many times he has repeated those words, his makeshift mantra, they don’t make him feel any better. How could they when he just did the one thing he never wanted to do? He broke your heart.

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Writing a Sunset: A Shitty How-to Manual for Writing Angst

Someone recently asked me the best way to write angst. Honestly, there is no best way. But I’ll do my darndest to explain what’s worked for me so far.

The best way to write angst is to write loss.

Now, I’ve seen this done so many ways before. I’ve seen death, I’ve seen destruction, I’ve seen cities burn and knives find their mark. With writers there’s an endless way to build and then knock down. Like lego bricks, you just have to find the best place to plant your foot for the entire structure to tumble down onto the carpet.

But my favorite kind of angst is actually something smaller. 

My favorite is what I call “Writing a Sunset”.

A character is created. Someone that we all know and love. They’re build from the bone to the skin to every lash and every smile line. We watch them learn and grow and sink and fall and tower and realize and live. And I, as the author, make sure to give you every detail of her life until you can look at the page and want to reach in and steal their hand in yours.

I also make sure that this character loves sunsets.

It’s the most important time of day for them. That time when the earth is still and silent. That time when the warmth begins its slow travel past a seemingly infinite horizon. Thick in it’s colors, it sinks below and drowns, and in its panic it sends out flares of reds and oranges and pinks that shoot across the sky, burning holes into the atmosphere and letting the stars breathe. 

And in that moment, when Orion is lounging against smothering blue and the tips of a nebula soak in the receding magma, this character owns their own world. All they have is the sky and all the sky has is itself and everything is perfect.

And it’s then that I make them blind. 

There is something to say about taking away what a character cherishes most. Because in the end our families and our smallest loves are what keep us together. We crave things, it’s true. And material possessions help to find their places in our lives. Losing a grandmothers necklace could be sad and misplacing a treasure map leading to adventure could be devastating.

But I always found it best to not take away what someone loves. But to take away access to it. To know that every day there’s a sunset waiting for them same as always but no longer can they seek it out. 

Don’t take away what someone loves.

Take away their hope of seeing it again.

If they’re a couple who want a child, take away that ability.

If he’s a dragon who needs to defend his keep, take away his fire.

If she’s a fairy who needs to fly, take away her wings.

But what I also find is that angst is not complete without hope. It’s pandoras box, really. And after sunsets, though it might seem dark, the dawn will eventually come.

And that’s where my favorite part comes in.

Taking away an ability doesn’t stop someone. It merely gives them a reason to try something else. And though it might seem bleak and hopeless, there’s always a chance. And that chance is sometimes the saddest and most joyful part of all.

When our character learns that by stretching their hands out and spreading their fingers like starfish to an aching sun, they can feel its first rays gliding though yearning fingers. Feel tears against their face and a smile stretching lines into permanence. Know that the darkness will always be there, but oh how the sunlight touches their skin… 

If they can’t have children, have them adopt.

If the dragon can’t breathe fire, have it befriend the blacksmith.

And if she can no longer fly, then run until the wind burns her face and scars her feet and she feels free again.

Writing a Sunset is my favorite kind of angst because it’s the one we can relate to most. The fear of losing what we don’t realize we love and the need to reach out and tell them it’ll be okay. Writing a Sunset means having the will to accept a fate you had no choice in, and finding a new way to see once more. 

Writing a Sunset reminds us all that sadness is real. But so is courage. And you can’t have one without the other.


i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend

it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)
my fave merthur fics, all first time/getting together

Long Canon Era: 

  1. The World I Built For You: 32K, T, If I told you to execute Mordred, would you do it? Merlin wondered, losing himself in the blue of Arthur’s eyes. Can I save you like this, even if it damns me? you didn’t think s5 could get any more emotional but u were wrong
  2. Touch My Skin To Make Me Whole: 64K, E, The Kingdom of Essetir has once again fallen under new rule, and Arthur travels to visit its new king, determined to make peace. Unfortunately peace is the furthest thing from this new king’s mind. Arthur and Merlin are forced to navigate his every attempt to make Arthur a scapegoat in starting a war between Camelot and Essetir. The new king is treacherous though, and he may have just found the one weakness that will force Arthur’s hand. Note: AU Post Season 4 the ultimate hurt/comfort

Short Canon Era: 

  1. Visiting Hunith: 9K, T, Five times Ealdor had visitors.
  2. Wager of Battle: 12K, M, When a knight-in-training mistakes Merlin for a common servant, Arthur is Most Displeased. Trial by combat ensues…but Arthur isn’t the one who takes up the sword.
  3. Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives: 22K, T, After Merlin is executed for Uther’s murder, Arthur’s world falls apart.
  4. Apotheosis: 9K, T, magic reveal, love vs destiny
  5. Dying to Return: 20K, T, after Merlin leaves, a mysterious sorcerer comes to Camelot
  6. The Coming of Spring: 10K, E, Kings, even new ones, were not supposed to long for their menservants.

Modern AU:

  1. Serious Eyes, Suddenly Smiles: 11K, E, When you are young everything seems definite. You are either in or out. Finishing up at university or messing up your whole future.
  2. Unsteady: 10K, T, merlin is a private investigator for arthur, who’s dating sophia
  3. Perfect: 15K, E, infidelity, internalized homophobia


  1. Do Not Go Gentle: 5K, T, “Don’t you understand?” He shakes her. “I cared more about him than I did about his kingdom, more than I ever cared about magic – or anything. I didn’t care about Arthur the legend; I didn’t care about Arthur the King of Camelot. I only cared about Arthur the man.” His chest is hurting. He can’t get enough air. “I fucked up, Gwen, and I’m sorry. Do you want that in writing?” 
  2. The Heart You Call Home: 16K, M, Arthur writing about stories he can only barely remember, Merlin, depressed and with major survivors guilt, finds them, much angst

Historical AU (honestly i love historical aus, that’s why there are so many here):

  1. Gaudy: 6K, G, political AU in the 1960s thru 1997, honestly the best characterizations of all time
  2. A West-Country Romance: 91K, E, Poldark AU
  3. True Heart of Wexford: 21K, E, Wexford, 1798, Merlin is the Catholic groundskeeper on a manor belonging to Anglo-Irish aristocrat Arthur Pendragon. While Merlin’s day job entails looking after Arthur’s property, he’s also involved with the United Irishmen. Political upheaval is about to plunge the country into turmoil. In the midst of all this stands Arthur Pendragon, who’s become Merlin’s staunch friend in spite of everything that divides them: faith, class, position, and obligation.
  4. Something Worth Fighting For: 21K, E, Set during World War II. Arthur is sent to the front lines to fight for Britain, while Merlin is left behind, struggling to cope with the absence of his best friend. Seeking to give Arthur some comfort, Merlin begins to send him pieces of a story, which tells of a legendary King and his devoted manservant.Through their letters, Arthur and Merlin grow closer, and perhaps begin to discover feelings that they could not put into words before. 
  5. Yet The Man Would At Once Run Away With Your Heart: 4K, M,  Mordred comes to stay at Avalon Hall and takes a shine to Merlin. Arthur is most unimpressed by this turn of events.


  1. Merlin’s Place: 3K, bath
  2. Brighter When We Come: 4K, bath
  3. Night Sky Changing Overhead: 5K, bath
  4. What I Want You’ve Got, It Might Be Hard to Handle: 3K, magic made them do it (100% consenual tho)
  5. The Dirty Little Things You Say: 9K, arthur gets so turned on from merlin’s dirty talk
  6. At Our Best When It’s From The Hips: 13K, loss of virginity
  7. Solace: 1K, bath

High school/Teenage AU: 

  1. Out of Body: 53K, E, Finding out that his best friend is gay shouldn’t be a big deal. But then, catching Merlin wanking to gay porn shouldn’t turn Arthur on, either. With his plans for uni in shambles and his position on the high school footie team lost to injury, Arthur’s determined not to disappoint his father any further. Running away from Merlin seems like the easiest thing to do, but his denial might cost him everything. the teenage au you’ve been dreaming of
  2. Should You Choose to Accept It: 11K, T, so pure, childhood friends to falling out in middle school to falling in love in high school
  3. A Personal History of Midwestern Running: 20K, T, hahah the ending kills me every time, the one where arthur teaches merlin how to run
Second Chances (James Conrad)

Pairing: James Conrad x OC

Warning: Little, tiny bit of violence. And giant bugs. Lol.

Originally posted by enchantedbyhiddles

I couldn’t relax. Couldn’t close my eyes without seeing it all over again. 

Choppers being tossed from the sky, like tiny toys. Flames licking away at molten metal. Bodies falling from midair. And those eyes. Those huge, yellow eyes. I squeezed my own eyes shut, desperate to make those horrible mental images vanish. Though the second I tried to think of something else, anything else, my mind wandered back to him.

To James Conrad.

Keep reading

Boo! // Kim Taehyung


the prompt: When you have time, could I request a ghost!AU with Taehyung of BTS? Where you move into a new apartment but don’t know that it’s haunted. And ghost!Tae is so ready to scare you off by pulling some horrific haunting stunt, but wait, you’re actually really cute?? And nice?? Pretty soon, you discover his existence (which explains all the weird things that have happened), so he takes to teasing you from the shadows and making your life difficult and just generally being a loveable nuisance~ Humorous everyday scenarios between you two ensue… Possibly ending with a love confession from Tae?

words: 3474

category: fluff + comedy

author note: i researched poltergeists for this and it was really scary •_• also, i want ghost!taehyung to be my best friend. enjoy!

- destinee

Originally posted by suga-com

Keep reading


➤ part one | part two
summary: Ride along, he says, his eyes as bright as the scorching summer sun hitting the roof of his beat-up car. And although you’ve promised yourself time and time again that you wouldn’t let your feeble heart surface around him, not after everything he’s told you, you find the corners of your lips curving and your palm heating as you touch the car handle. After all, the soft smile he greets you with doesn’t look like it could belong to the killer you know he is.
genre: angst, smut [jungkook x reader x hoseok]
word count: 8k

This is not what you imagined months ago while daydreaming of what you would be doing today. Sitting in class all day or leaning against the counter at work, visualizing hundreds of scenarios where you and your knight in shining armor are having the time of your life on the one day in the whole year set aside just for love. He would be wearing a black suit and tie, his hair brushed and looking at you as if you fished out all the stars in the universe and put them in your eyes. And you would be wearing a dress made of silk that took weeks of extra shifts but it would be all worth it when he’d see you, hair made up and a lovesick smile on your lips.

February 14th is supposed to be a night you’d never forget in your entire life, a night you’d look back on while holding your children and looking at your husband, saying wow, where did the time go? It’s not supposed to end up with you looking at racks and racks of cards for every possible occasion at nine in the evening with a frown as deep. You’re probably the only person in the small 24 hour store beside the clerk himself, who frankly looks like he doesn’t want to be here more than you.

You’re met with hundreds of shades of pink when your fingers trail over the Valentine’s Day cards, a longing in your eyes that you wish didn’t show on your face so much. Cartoon hearts and cursive writing and glitter – you’ve heard of the story where the princess kisses the frog and he turns into a prince, but would it be too much to open a Valentine card and have him appear in front of you.

Sighing, you trace the edge of a purple paper and wonder where you’ve gone wrong. Not one of your friends or people you know who are your age is still single; everyone’s engaged or in a long-term marriage, hell, some people are even married and settling down together. So what did you do to deserve this out of nowhere? You’ve never been the best at relationships or love in general, ever since you were a little girl, with your first boyfriend in kindergarten abandoning you the first chance he got for a new student. Obviously, you didn’t let that hurt your morale and kept your chin high, until the situation repeated itself again in the form of Park Minseok in seventh grade, who only pretended to date you to get to your best friend. Thankfully, the over-hormonal sack of baby fat he was didn’t get him far in the case.

Your only significant and somehow serious relationship came to you in your last year of high school. His name was Seokjin and he was the epitome of prince charming. With his soft brown hair and love-filled eyes, he swooped in on you like an eagle on its prey, but you were too entranced by his gentle touches and whispered praises to realize. And for those ten school months, he made you feel like you were on top of the world, as if nothing could touch you as long as his arms were enclosed around you. But you should have known, the only way Seokjin could get off the high pedestal upon which you placed him was if he jumped down by himself, and he did just that when he informed you that he didn’t see any true meaning behind your relationship that could last until the beginning of university.

Tears don’t well up in your eyes anymore as you stand under bright store lights and Minnie Mouse stares at you with an almost teasing, evil glint in her big eyes – even a cartoon character for children has someone to love her, but you’re all alone. You don’t feel the clench in your heart or the sweating of your palms anymore, you’re not the same girl you were who would open her heart to any stranger she passed on the street.

At least, you don’t think so.

Looking up, you meet gazes with the security camera placed overhead and you see yourself, wearing grey sweatpants and a huge koala jumper, looking like you sleep-walked your way to the pharmacy from the safety of your bed. That’s when the self-hatred kicks in. Dear God, what are you doing? You look into your own black-and-white reflection one last time – and you see him.

Tall, lean, head covered in a dark beanie and walking straight towards you with the type of confidence to shake planets. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, Timberlands click-clacking until he’s barely a foot away from you. A hand reaches out and takes an entire stack out of the rack in front of you, and – fuck – your heart almost jumps out of your chest. Your imagination immediately sky-rockets and you can’t help but wonder how romantic it would be, to meet the one when you’re at your lowest point and, oh my, on Valentine’s Day and what if he gives you the card he’s holding right now and says something so romantic you’ll be swept off your –

“Such bullshit.”

The sound of your cardboard falling to the ground replaces your heart falling to your stomach. Of course. Of course, he’s an asshole who knows nothing of love, like most men you’ve ever looked at twice. Disappointment crashes in your chest like the stranger’s shoulder in your own, until he puts his arm around your waist, a small whistle leaving his pursed lips. With orbs as large as saucers, you finally get a good look at him.

His skin is as golden as honey, hair a reddish blonde that falls into his dark brown eyes. His lips are full and pink as he whistles, the edges pulling up into a smirk and he starts what you have a feeling isn’t a friendly greeting:

“If anyone had told me I would find such a beautiful sight at this dump of a place, I would have come way earlier.” He sniggers your way, initiating what he thinks is seductive eye-contact, but it frankly renders you uncomfortable.

“Great, then you wouldn’t see me walking away from you now.”

He grabs your wrist before you can do just that, the twitch of his lips growing wider.

“You’re feisty. And I’m Hoseok. What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The heart rushes to your cheeks like fans run towards idols coming out of the airport. This insufferable stranger, yes insufferable, only pushes himself close to you until you can smell the musk scent of his cologne and aftershave on the nape of his neck. Your senses are almost on fire from the proximity, not being used to such intimacy for so long, and now your entire face blushes for a completely different reason.

“Well, not like this will interest the likes of you, but I came here to get Valentine’s Day cards.” You smile. “Have a nice day.”

“You can’t possibly believe that a cheap piece of cut-out cardboard can make anyone feel special.” He snorts out, and instead of making it seem like a question, his tone is almost challenging you to answer him.

“What would someone like you know anything about feelings?” Scoffing, you turning away from him to put the card back as he watches you meticulously. Under his dark-eyed gaze, you smirk, a centimeter away from placing it on the stand. Until you don’t. Your eyes land on the ugliest, most cliché hot pink card, and your brain flashes as if it were a winning casino game.

“What’s that mean, someone like me?” Feet inch closer, but yours don’t budge from the floor.

“Let me put it to you this way.” You sharply turn to face him again, pointing the edge of your card against his chest threateningly. “Have you ever met someone so condescending, annoying, and down-right irreproachable that it almost feels like looking at them not only physically hurts, but it also makes you read them like an open book?”

Hoseok’s once charming and relaxed face contorts into a fierce snarl, you think he might jump on you and bite your neck, like a lion on a helpless deer in the savanna. But he does nothing of the sort, instead choosing to tug your arm closer to his chest and intertwining your fingers together, much softer than any of his previous actions have been. A gasp escapes your mouth when your undoubtedly clammy palm meets his cold, smooth one. Of course, even his hands are perfect.

“And what gives you the right to judge me like that, princess?” It takes a few minutes for your brain to process what he said with the way his eyes dart down to your lips so he can listen to you. The movement only makes your hopeless romantic fantasies scream for escape—is it just you or does he look like he’s about to kiss you?

“I-I-I mean, you’re a stranger…” Stuttering, you shut up immediately when he brings his face so fucking close that your noses touch, light caresses of skin against skin.

“My name’s Jung Hoseok. I’m twenty three years old and I major in one of Korea’s most famous schools. I have more money in my jeans’ pockets than a man brings home every month. One snap of my fingers and I can be having lunch with the president in her own damn kitchen, not that I’d ever get near that wench with a ten foot pole. You know nothing about me, sweetheart, you don’t know my life, what I’ve seen and endured, what I’ve been through, my passions and dislikes, you don’t know me.

His speech leaves you breathless, almost like you’re the one who was speaking so rapidly, while he stood in front of you, but more on top of you than anything, faultlessly well. You can merely watch him helplessly as he grabs a card from the rack and places it in your jumper’s front pocket. With gentle lips leaving a kiss on your cheek, this Jung Hoseok walks away from you and doesn’t look over his shoulders to see if you’re watching.

And unlike his fleeting kiss, he is everything but a disappearing, fast-paced memory in your mind. For days on end, this bright-haired stranger tip-toes around your thoughts whenever he pleases, he’s the hidden meaning behind the lyrics of every song you listen to since meeting him, he’s every orange-tinted object you see on your way to university or work in the streets. All you can think about when the sun intertwines with the moon is how sharply his eyes bored into yours as he spoke such strong yet such cliché words in a twenty-four hour pharmacy, for God’s sake, the least sexy place to have a permanent seat in your train of thought.

He fades away with the snow on the road almost two weeks later, when your brain is too blurred with exam dates and projects and essays to think about a near-stranger who held your hand in the middle of an argument. Even if it was on Valentine’s Day, the one day in the year you forget everything and focus solely on your love life. If only.

It’s the end of February and the weather isn’t looking too fabulous from your seat in your bedroom’s desk chair, looking out the window with a solemn look. The sky’s a boring grey with light splashes of blue if you look closely, but the sun looks to have given up on humanity today. You click your pen on the table and lean back, the blank sheet of paper in front of you standing out the most though it’s the blandest thing inside the painted four walls. But you can’t focus on writing your essay and you can’t let it drag you down for the next few days.

You can hear your roommate talking on the phone outside, even if she’s a gracious-looking girl, her voice can sure travel through walls. Daeyoung giggles and snorts every now and then, talking about some event she wants to go to or some skirt she wants to buy, while you’re leaning over a piece of paper like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and trying to fry your brain for information. The want to abandon creeps up on you while the door to your bedroom opens loudly and in struts Daeyoung. She says goodbye to whoever she was talking to and sits on your desk with the utmost pity in her expression.

“Y/N-ah,” she sighs, her blonde hair falling over her face when she looks down painstakingly. “I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed tonight because you’re going to be making substantial steps in the world of psychology, and I can totally see you making magic in here, but I have one more ticket to an all-exclusive party and Jinri can’t come.”

“Dae, I told you I really have to stay in tonight.” You whine, although a huge part of you wants to throw your schoolwork away and just have fun, when you haven’t been to a party since the wild Seokjin days. Why not play hard to get for now?

“Yes, and I completely understand, seeing all the work you’ve done.” She picks up your paper and gestures the lack of lines and, more specifically, actual words. You snort her way and sigh, throwing yourself back in your chair in mock-laziness. “But just so you know, I’m not wearing skirts, thigh-highs, dresses, anything open in the back or the front of down under, I’m not wearing heels, stilettos, or pumps—”

“Ow, ow, dear God, woman, stop this attack on my ears. I suppose you want to go to a party dressed like an ancient nun.” Daeyoung rolls her eyes and, with your wrist in her dainty hands, she pushes you into her closet. That nearly crazy look in her eyes, the one where she mentally prepares outfits and critiques them in head, is back and it sends chills down your spine.

After half an hour of there is no way my ass or any other human ass can fit into this’s and I would actually push you off a cliff and jump in right after you so we would topple over each other on the ground rather than wear this STD-attracting skirt’s, you finally settle on an outfit that pleases all. A simple black dress that falls mid-thigh and a maroon jacket that flows down to your thigh is the only common ground you can both agree on, paired with small-heeled black shoes.

Daeyoung doesn’t bother giving you details about where you’re going or who you’re going to meet there, only telling you to get in the car when her boyfriend comes to pick her up. He isn’t exactly what you had in mind when she told you her man is a guitarist and singer in a pop rock band during a movie night not long ago, choosing to imagine a busty guy with tattoos and piercings in all the right and wrong places. Frankly, when you first saw Taehyung, you thought you’d gotten in the wrong car. But he’s nothing other than friendly, with his charming smile and soft brown hair and excited voice. The impression of him being a puppy-like boy didn’t last when he almost jumped on Daeyoung with his mouth after a brief hello.

He talks to you about his band on the way over to said-party of the century when he isn’t too busy trying to see how far his tongue can go down your roommate’s throat at every red light, the ones he stops at, that is. Taehyung tells you about the three other guys he plays with and how they’ve all been friends for as long as he can remember, growing up in Daegu and moving to Seoul to chase their dreams. He ignores you when you ask how the chase is going, choosing instead to list off his favourite songs that he loves to perform and telling you how none of this would be possible without his girlfriend by his side. The romance in his car becomes virtually too much for you to handle, leading you to open the backseat window and leaning your head out for air like a choking dog.

Your breath gets knocked out of your throat as the car takes a sudden left turn and you’re driving further and further away from the city you’re used to, looking up at Daeyoung in the rear-view mirror with wide eyes, but she only shushes you and tells you to relax and that Taehyung knows where he’s doing. You sit back uneasily but force yourself to nod your head along with the music, rough voices mixing with soft tones and strums of the guitar along with the occasional fluttering of the couple’s lips.

It’s when the car stops in front of a road filled with forgotten factories and dust rolling off the broken sidewalks that your lungs forget how to function. Your roommate and her boyfriend slide out of their seats and motion for you to follow them casually, your hands shaking as you grab your purse and close the backseat door behind you. Taehyung’s long legs lead you inside an abandoned building to which he holds the keys and then he walks over to a door on the floor, making your eyebrows furrow. But neither of them seem to be realizing how horrifying this is for someone’s first experience at a university party.

Daeyoung goes in first and you can see stairs leading downstairs and then you hear it – the sound of a steady beat and people cheering, a light voice flying in from the under the doorway. Her boyfriend’s teasing grin helps as you step down yourself, darkness submerging you and you hold onto the walls on either side of you for dear life, until you feel Taehyung’s hands on your waist guiding you down. When your feet hit the ground on the last step, you can’t believe what you’re seeing in front of you.

What seems to be hundreds of people are gathering around a stage where bright purple and blue smoke is enveloping the singers on top of it. The music is rapid but the voices are low and sensual, the faint lights hanging on the walls in a historic castle fashion only helping set the mood more. A few tables are placed all over the place, and Taehyung guides both of you to a table close to the platform.

You sit down on a chair as Daeyoung greets two boys sitting right under the lights so you can clearly see their faces, and you’re blown away by how handsome they both are. One of them is seated right in front of you, tall and sturdy, his collarbones peeking out from under his black v-neck shirt, his skin tanned and soft-looking under a tuff of midnight hair. His lips move but you can hardly hear him. The other’s skin is pale and his hair is a minty green, eyes shaped into slits and he only nods at you as a greeting. You stop your gazing when your friend gives you a cup full of strong-smelling alcohol and you smile before holding it close to you without actually drinking any.

The one with the midnight hair leans closer to you until your knees are touching and you can see a tiny scar on his left cheek and you can’t help the small smile spreading on your face. He says something but you point at your ears in hopes he’ll understand. You see him putting his hand on the shoulders of your chair and suddenly you’re closer to him than you were before, his breath on your ear.

“I’m Jungkook,” he whispers, and moves back so he can look at you. His eyes look amused at your bewildered expression and then – “Am I too close to you? I can back off.” You’ve never shook your head faster, and then you lean in closer to him and say your name in his ear softly. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re a friend of Daeyoung’s, I suppose.” He grins at your nodding and says again, “I’m the main singer in the band Tae’s in. The little Grinch over there is Yoongi hyung. Hobi hyung isn’t here yet, but I’m sure you’ll like him when he comes.”

“I like you already, isn’t that enough?” You bite your cheek at the burst of confidence that took you over so suddenly and Jungkook laughs, gaining a bit more insurance when it comes to you and placing his hand on your knee, not touching your dress but a hell of a lot close to it.

“It’s more than enough, babe.” He chuckles, bringing his glass to his lips and throwing his head back. “Your first time here, right?”

You’re about to answer when a man on stage screams out a name and Jungkook stands up suddenly, looking around to Taehyung and Yoongi with worried eyes. Both of them don’t look a lot better than him, but Yoongi shrugs his shoulders and takes off his jacket, standing up and ushering the two younger boys after him. Jungkook winks at you and then he’s disappeared into the crowd. In a matter of minutes, the three of them are on the stage and everyone arounds you screams incredibly loudly, throats are getting ripped.

It’s when he’s on stage that you really take in how attractive he is, standing in front of the mic with both his hands on it, the same hands that were flirting with the edge of your dress not too long ago, looking out towards the crowd with that same amused glint with which he was looking at you. The crowd disperses just as Taehyung starts humming into his microphone, and a figures comes up on stage. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to drift from Jungkook and settle in on this new person, who looks really familiar right now, with strawberry hair and golden skin and – oh dear God.

Your mind refuses to comprehend what your eyes are seeing, the chance of this person slapping Jungkook’s arm playfully and moving towards the set of drums at the back of the stage being him is so bloody small, yet a part of you knows he’s right there. Although Jungkook didn’t mention anything about a Jung Hoseok, and why did you even remember his name in the first place, he’s such ancient history?

The strawberry-haired man takes off his jacket and the crowd roars even louder, chanting his name and you hear it, it’s nothing else but it, even when it can’t be Hoseok! Hoseok! Hoseok! is all you can hear.  He takes the drumsticks out and slaps them against each other three times and the music suddenly invades your senses. It’s just guitar notes and the beat of the drums, until a melodious voice interrupts, and you look at Jungkook to see his eyes closed, shutting out everything around him and he sings so enchantingly, you feel yourself wanting to get up and chase the echoes of his words around town.

So I heard you found somebody else. And at first, I thought it was a lie.” You recognize the song immediately, sitting back in the comfort of the chair and letting your eyes swim over the hundreds of bodies filling the underground space, some molding together while others are moving freely to the sound of the music, but you always end up looking at him.

His sleeveless shirt shows his bare arms, his strong biceps looking evidently delicious in the low lighting and accompanied by Yoongi’s deep voice, you feel your will slipping away. Hoseok only looks up from his drums to watch the crowd with mesmerizing eyes, almost as if he’s seen the sight so many times but every time takes his breath away until he’s left with nothing but the clicking of the wood against the drums and Jungkook and Taehyung’s voices melting into one. All thoughts of condescending, arrogant Jung Hoseok from the pharmacy disappear, washed away by the waves of this new, passionate Hoseok like pristine waves hit the shore.

For the next forty minutes, you find yourself glued to the image of him throwing his head back and his neck glistening with sweat as he relentlessly hits the drums with all the force he has and your mind wanders down a nasty road but it doesn’t have control over its thoughts anymore and then you’re imagining Jung Hoseok on your bed, imagining not only his neck but his chest and the rest of him covered with a layer of sweat as your thighs straddle his hips and he thrusts up into you –

“They’re pretty amazing, aren’t they?” You jump up from your seat and your glass follows suit, spilling over your dress and knocking out on the floor. Daeyoung looks at you from beside with a worried look and you frantically nod with a tight smile, picking up the glass and putting it back on the table. 

The crowd roars once again and you see the boys waving with grins on their faces and getting down from the stage, heading straight for you and your heart blubbers up your throat. Jungkook’s the first in line, his smile still on his face when he looks at you and you feel it’s impossible not to grin along when he looks so nice, hair messy and sweaty, almost fucked out but you can’t let yourself think like that again. He reaches you first and you clamber to get up, wishing he could somehow help you disappear from Jung Hoseok’s gaze that might pry any time now. And with that credence of urgent times, you jump into his arms.

Jungkook’s chest vibrated against yours as he laughs in your ears, his own hands circling around your ears while you hide your face in his neck.

“You sang so well, I had no idea you guys were this talented.” You whisper against his cheek, letting your hair hide the rest of your face from everyone but him.

“I see you didn’t come here without a judgemental idea already forming in your head, Y/N.” He chuckles again when your hand hits his chest and you sense his arms loosening as a tell-tale sign he’s about to place you down on the floor. You take a deep breath and before he can do anything, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his ear and bite down – “Why don’t you show me how wrong I was again?”

Jungkook’s grip on your waist is a tenfold tighter just as the last word leaves your mouth and you grin successfully. He places you down and murmurs something to Yoongi beside him, before he’s grabbing your hand and taking you towards the corner of the room. You giggle as you run after him and he looks back at you with his lips forming a smile, tugging on a doorknob until it opens loose and taking you inside. The room’s much brighter and you can only hear hums from the party next door, but it doesn’t matter as soon as Jungkook looks at you with that heart-stopping determination and nothing means a damn thing anymore.

The back of your knees hit the single bed in the middle of the room and Jungkook follows behind you, falling on top of you and placing his arms on either side of your head to support his weight. His fingertips trail over your neck softly, driving you crazy with how such little touches can have your skin feeling on fire. Your hips subconsciously thrust up into Jungkook’s stomach and he grins, dropping his waist to keep yours stuck to the mattress. Moaning aloud, you can’t do anything but lay there, having him so close to where you need him most but he isn’t moving an inch.

His hair looks lighter now, shades of brown mixed together in a colour that is just simply Jungkook, and then he moves his head to start pressing kisses to your neck. You fret your fingers to his hair and hold him closer, wanting to feel him against every part of you all at once. Teeth nip and bite at your skin while his tongue soothes the bite, going lower and lower and you reaches the swells of your breasts, looking at you quizzically.

“Is this what you want?” You nod, hands still wound up in his hair as you try to get him to go back to pleasuring, but he doesn’t budge, “Say it, kitten.”

“God, I want this, I want you so bad.” With that, he takes your face in both his hands and crashes his lips against yours, all tongue and teeth until you forget what it actually means like to kiss someone, too lost in the sensation of him.

Jungkook pulls away too fast for your liking, holding your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down almost viciously, boring his eyes into yours. And then he’s gone.

“Strip.” He says sternly, getting on his knees on the floor and tugging your thighs closer to the edge, until your ass is hanging off the bed. You quickly tug your dress off until you’re left in your bra and panties, cursing yourself for not wearing anything sexier than plain dark ones. But your lack of lingerie seems to be the last thing on Jungkook’s mind with the way he’s looking at you like he might swallow you whole.

His long fingers play with the lace trimming of your panties as his other hands leans and up and he disregards your bra in seconds, surprising you. His palm envelopes your breast and you moan, loving the feeling of his hand on your hardening nipple. Jungkook grins as he feels you shivering under his touch, loving how you were easy to please, grabbing the supple flesh and playing with it between his fingers while he lets his hand cup your ass.

Profanities leaves your mouth when he finally wraps his mouth around your nipple, and you wonder how deranged you must look, laying naked except for your panties in a random bed in front of a stranger you only met an hour ago, while he’s mouthing at your chest, still fully-clothed. He switches to the other nipple and lifts your ass up until your grinding against him, only your back is laying on the bed while the rest of you grabbing onto his lean body for mercy. You can feel his covered cock under his jeans, the only barrier between you and him as he snaps your panties off your legs and you kick them off for good measure, letting your wetness flow down your thighs.

You don’t want him to waste any time, you want him to take his pants off and get to it, you want him to make your toes curl and your walls shake as he bottoms out, you want him to make you shake in your own skin while you sink you draw scarlet lines on his back with your nails, but Jungkook seems like the type to make you shutter and shiver in bed for hours before giving you an ounce of the satisfaction you so deeply crave.

He flattens his tongue on your belly and leans down until his lips are centimeters from your clit, and you moans desperately, grinding in the air under his teasing eyes and you know he’s been waiting for this, drawing helpless groans out of your throat like a madman until it aches, everything aches.

Jungkook,” you scream, tugging his at his hair until he winces and looks at you like you defied, but you’re too tired to care anymore. You take all your weight and throw yourself on him, he’s lying on his back and you’re straddling his face. You feel his groans vibrate against your core, your wetness dripping onto his cheeks and the sight is so damn electrifying, his hands on your ass and pushing your forward.

The first touch of his lips to your clit make you throw your head back in a silent scream, every hair on your body standing on edge as he laps at you with the hunger of a starved man, and even though you’re on top of him, he still takes the shots with his hands descending when you get to grind on his face.

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking good, don’t you dare stop,” you hiss and moan, thighs clenching and unclenching, feeling one of his fingers lean down and tease your entrance with the tips. God, you can feel him thrusting it inside your tight walls, not teasing you anymore and going full out, licking you up frivolously like he’s never going to get the chance again and –

You can’t believe your ears, maybe you’re hallucinating from all the pleasure his tongue is giving you all of a sudden after actual years of struggling, but it really sounds like someone’s knocking on the door, the sound getting louder as your moans do a crescendo of their own. Jungkook pinches your thigh and stops moving altogether, his eyebrows furrowing and he picks you up in his strong arms, places you in the middle of the bed with care. You giggle as he blindly reaches for you dress and whispers for you to cover yourself. With a kiss to the side of your neck, much more gentle than he was seconds ago, he goes to the door and makes sure you’re decent before he opens it.

As soon as door’s wide, a head of strawberry-coloured hair slumps over Jungkook quite violently, the latter catching him with fast reflexes. A gasp is stuck in your throat and you scramble to get your panties on it, eyes fixated on Jungkook who looks more mortified than you are.

Hyung.” Jungkook growls, his hands leaning down to grasp Hoseok’s shirt in tight fists, throwing the elder to the wall. Hoseok croons for a while, obviously piss-drunk, and then his eyes fall on you. His face scrunches in confusion and you hope to God he doesn’t recognize you, but when his eyebrows twitch and he looks over at Jungkook with the realization dawning in, you know your prayers weren’t good enough.

The older boy snorts loudly and slams his hand on Jungkook’s chest, throwing the dark-haired singer away and he marches towards you, ignoring Jungkook’s yells of “hey! Hey!” For some reason, your feet are glued to the ground and you can’t do anything except stare at Hoseok’s heaving chest as he grabs you by the waist and moves to get out of the room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re taking her, hyung?” Jungkook screams, running after you as you look back at him, feeling bad for his disarray until he stops moving altogether, watching his friend drag you up the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go!” You push and pull against Hoseok’s arms and hands, but his grip on you is much too tight. Your heels scrape against the floor, until he turns around molds your body into the wall with his own.

“First, you insult me as a stranger and pretend like you know what you’re talking about. I knew you recognized me at that pharmacy, the way you turned into stone when I was next to you and looked at me with those big eyes like you couldn’t believe yourself. I figured you were a fan, and it was kind of cute.” He snarls, pushing you back harshly when you try to jump on him with your anger. “And then you open your big mouth and spout the most ridiculous, cliché shit I’ve ever head in twenty-three years on this planet.”

“I didn’t even know who you were, you self-centered bastard!” You yap, wincing when he holds your wrists above your head.

“Sure, you didn’t. I thought maybe you were Namjoon’s little girlfriend and he put you up to this, maybe he did it on purpose. But then you looked way too innocent to be even associated with him. And now you’re here, at my show, seducing my friend. Who are you?” His face is so close to yours and the scent of him hits you all over again, flashbacks of that desperate Valentine’s Day night replaying in your brain. Your senses scream because oh dear God, isn’t it enough that you get a man like Jungkook in one night, but now him again? He smells just how you remember, all strong and musky, with the new addition of vodka to the mélange. And quite frankly, although you know it’s so, so, so wrong, it makes the ache in your stomach come back to life – God, this is so wrong.

“Listen,” you pant and it finally catches his attention, stops his rambling. “My name is Y/N and I’m Daeyoung’s roommate – I’m Taehyung’s girlfriend’s roommate. This is the first fucking time I come here, the first time I see Jungkook or any of your other friends, and, honestly, you’re not giving me the idea of coming back here next weekend.”

He stays silent for a few minutes and you hope the gears in his head are turning in your favour as his gaze washes over your face, looking for any hint of dishonesty, until he lets go of your wrist with a grunt and takes a step back. You wince as you bring your fingers to your skin, looking at the blue and pink flowers starting to bloom around your veins. Hoseok crumples his nose when he looks down at you, murmuring a soft sorry into the tense silence of the empty building.

You look at the door leading back to the party and Hoseok catches on quickly, “Do you want to go back inside?” You shake your head for a no, bending to get your bag that fell to the floor in the man’s haste to confront you.

“Are you always this violent whenever you see a girl trying to get some at a social gathering?” You clear your throat, trying to lighten the air around you.

Hoseok shakes his head with a smile on his lips and you’re unexpectedly laugh a little with him, taken aback by how different he looks when he’s even the tiniest bit happy; his face brightens up, his pearly whites are in view, he has crinkles under his eyes, and, shit, he even has dimples.

“I wouldn’t call this a social gathering, to be honest. Most people come here in search of some music and something to make them forget about life beyond those four walls for the night.” Running a hand through his hair, he bounces on the balls of his feet and surprisingly looks right into you when he speaks. “Whether it be a drink or someone else.”

“And is that a habit of yours, Jung?” You give up on keeping an emotionless face and convince yourself to not overthink the redness that crawls its way from your neck to your cheeks when Hoseok smirks at your question.

“That’s another story for another time, love.”

Quietude reigns for a while between you two, it’s not completely awkward but you’re definitely not comfortable under his stare, looking at your dress and your disheveled hair and you’re surprised he hasn’t mentioned Jungkook yet or whether you should go back to him or not, but it’s even more startling that you haven’t. Just as you see his fingers twitch beside him, you speak up – “You don’t think buses or cabs come by here, do they?”

Hoseok giggles – this tough-looking guy with diamond-dyed hair, dressed in leather and black, with a cast around his left hand that he didn’t even look down at once, with the all-too-well beginnings of a tattoo on the side of his neck – he just giggled at you, and it makes you get a bit more confident around him, makes the blood pound a bit less violently in your ears than it did before. “No, this is a completely deserted area, nobody’s here during the day. That’s why it’s always alive at night.”

You don’t know what he means by that and from that malicious glint in his orbs, you don’t know if someone like you should be asking for answers. Instead, you nod and begin looking for the words to ask where Daeyoung might be, but he beats you to it.

“I can drive you home, though.” He says. “If you want me to.”

It’s absolutely insane, every part of your brain is telling you to not let his now kind tone fool you when minutes ago his voice was as biting as a security dog’s. You shouldn’t let him slip out of his leather jacket and place it over your shoulders like he does, you shouldn’t let him as you for your address and you should definitely not give it to him this easily. For fuck’s sake, you barely know this man and there’s another guy you were hooking up with not too long ago that you should be going to now, that you should be asking to drive you home, that you should thank him for opening the door to his car and telling you to watch your steps as the sidewalk is broken and dirty.

But you don’t. And you let the butterflies in your stomach choose the decisions when it comes to Jung Hoseok for the rest of the night, and maybe that’s where you went wrong for the first time. You arrive home in about an hour, looking out the window and occasionally at Hoseok who bops his head and drums his fingers to the beat of the rap on the steering wheel of his beat up car.

“If you go back, could you tell Tiff I got home?” Hoseok smirks and nods, and you bite your cheek in embarrassment at his teasing expression, even when you know you didn’t do anything humiliating. “I mean, I’m going to text her anyway, but just in case she doesn’t get it or…”

“Oh, I’m certain Taehyung’s making sure she’ll get it.” Hoseok cackles as your face completely flushes, reaching over to pick up a beanie on the dashboard and throwing it at his face. The laughter dies down when you put your hand on the handle of the car door, and Hoseok places his hand on your arm, stopping you for just a second. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have accused you of being one of Namjoon’s tonight and–”

“Who is that guy? He can’t be that bad for you to accuse me of being his girlfriend.” You laugh, shaking your head, but Hoseok doesn’t look in the least amused.

“He’s nobody.” He dismisses you, his eyes hardening like before. “Again, I’m sorry for tonight. I should have let you explain and I shouldn’t have gone all berserk on you and Jungkook, especially not on your wrists. You should probably put some ice on those, by the way.”

You’re leave agape, your brain looking high and low for words until you stutter out a few works of thanks.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” You nod, a bashful smile on your lips, and get out of the car.

You go to sleep that night with the idea that Jung Hoseok seems too much like a dream, and not in the sense of him being too perfect for this world. Jung Hoseok’s fast, he comes and goes when he please, he’s rapid scenes consisting of memories and wishes and thoughts you never imagined would filter in your head, and he disappears just as soon as you start to understand. For almost a month, Daeyoung doesn’t speak a word about her boyfriend and his band and his parties, and you don’t even dare bring up either the midnight-haired boy you shared more than kisses with, even if it was cut too soon, or the bright-haired one you shared a few laughs with.

And just like a dream, you find yourself falling asleep slightly wishing that you’d get to continue knowing Jung Hoseok, that you’d pick up where you left off with him all over again. The ending of your dream comes to you in the form of a stressful Saturday spent staring at your laptop’s screen with dead eyes and an even more gone brain, still in your pyjamas and losing hope to ever finish this school year.

You hear movement in the living room and Daeyoung on the phone, the déja vu too much for you as you wonder if it’s about time you get to restart your so-called adventures. Who knows, perhaps this time you can find Jungkook again and finish what you began. But your ticket to wildness doesn’t come, because you hear the door to your apartment close not long after, and silence envelops you as always. You know you and Daeyoung aren’t the closest friends and if any of her other friends are available, you’re pretty much inexistent, but still.

You’re finally giving up on seeing either of the two boys that have been haunting you for days when the scenario plays in your mind all by itself – a girl in a tight dress, maybe even one of Daeyoung’s friends, sitting in the same chair you were in, with her hands all over Jungkook as he whispers in her ear the same words that had shivers rolling down your back in waves, or even worse, with her wrists between Hoseok’s fingers – what the fuck is wrong with you?

Huffing, you close your laptop roughly and throw your head back. Is it possible for you not to be the only person who’s done that? God, how could have been so naïve? Of course you’re not the only girl who threw herself at Jeon Jungkook’s feet not even an hour after meeting him, and how could you have been when he’s possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen? He probably does that with every girl Daeyoung brings to their gigs, hell, she probably knew exactly what was going to happen to you that night before you did.

The phone’s sudden ting! Is that what takes you out of your session of self-pity, an unknown number flashing on your screen as you read the text:

Unknown: send back two sunflower emojis if this is the pretty girl in the black dress and the purple jacket [7:32pm]

Unknown: and if this is not her, send back a cactus I’ll get the message [7:33pm]

You have a feeling you know who sent this, you can’t be too off on your guesses anyway, because who else except Jungkook saw you in your jacket that you oh-so-conveniently left in that underground bedroom when Hoseok dragged you out?

You: aren’t you getting a message anyway, smart ass? [7:34pm]

Unknown: oh I think I just hit the jackpot [7:34pm]

Unknown: but tbh I’m not the only lucky one, you just won yourself a date with me [7:35pm]

You snort with derision, but you decide that, what the hell, you’re going to play with him for a while and inflate his ego.

You: and will I have the privilege of knowing who this is before the date? [7:37pm]

You: just so I’d know what to wear, of course [7:37pm]

Unknown: does that mean you’d wear what I saw you in last time if I tell you I’m, let’s say, Taeyang [7:38pm]

Unknown: anyway, you’ll find out soon enough when you follow the address I asked a certain someone to leave on your kitchen counter [7:38pm]

Unknown: I’ll see you soon, love [7:39pm]

(this is my first masterpost sorry if it’s bad) A bullet journal has a lot of uses. A planner, homework reminders, to-do lists- but understandably, some pages could use a little of inspiration. And what better inspiration than from artists? Even without a bullet journal, quotes can be a great thing to decorate journals, your room, etcetera. So, I’ve compiled a list of quotes (some aren’t very motivational) by some of your favorite artists!


“I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.”

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?”

“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.”

“I wish they would only take me as I am.”

“In spite of everything I shall rise again; I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing.”

“I see drawings and pictures in the poorest of huts and the dirtiest of corners.”

“One must work and dare if one really wants to live.”

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.“

“I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.”

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.“

“If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.”

“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.”


“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.“

“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.”

“Everything you can imagine is real.“

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

“Action is the foundational key to all success.“

"It takes a long time to become young.”

“Youth has no age.”

“Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.”

“Sculpture is the art of the intelligence.”

“Are we to paint what’s on the face, what’s inside the face, or what’s behind it?”

“Give me a museum and I’ll fill it.”

“To copy others is necessary, but to copy oneself is pathetic.”


“Have no fear of perfection - you’ll never reach it.“

"Drawing is the honesty of the art. There is no possibility of cheating. It is either good or bad.”

“Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing.”

“Intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.”

“There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know I am mad.”

“What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it.”

“I am not strange. I am just not normal.”

“It is not necessary for the public to know whether I am joking or whether I am serious, just as it is not necessary for me to know it myself.”

“Everything alters me, but nothing changes me.”

“So little of what could happen does happen.”

“Give me two hours a day of activity, and I’ll take the other twenty-two in dreams.”

“The secret of my influence has always been that it remained secret.”


“The painting has a life of its own. I try to let it come through.”

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.”

“My painting does not come from the easel.”

“When I am in my painting, I’m not aware of what I’m doing.”

“Love is friendship set to music.”

“The painter locks himself out of his own studio. And then has to break in like a thief.”

“The modern artist is working with space and time, and expressing his feelings rather than illustrating.”

“Energy and motion made visible- memories arrested in space.”

“Abstract painting is abstract. It confronts you. There was a reviewer a while back who wrote my pictures didn’t have any beginning or any end. He didn’t mean it as a compliment, but it was.”

“I’m very representational some of the time, and a little all of the time. But when you’re painting out of your unconscious, figures are bound to emerge.”

“Abstract art should be enjoyed just as music is enjoyed- ater awhile you may like it or you may not.”

“Each age finds its own technique… I mean, the strangeness will wear off and I think we will discover the deeper meanings in modern art.“


“I must have flowers always and always.”

“Color is my daylong obsession, joy and torment.“

“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.”

“My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.“

“I would like to paint the way a bird sings.”

“The more I live, the more I regret how little I know.“

“I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.”

“I can only draw what I see.“

“What keeps my heart awake is colorful silence.”

“The richness I achieve comes from nature, the source of my inspiration.“

“I don’t think I’m made for any earthly kind of pleasure.”

“The light constantly changes, and that alters the atmosphere and beauty of things every minute.“


“Nobody sees a flower- really- it is so small it takes time- we haven’t time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.”

“If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment.”

“I wish people were all trees and I think I could enjoy them then.”

“To create one’s world in any of the arts takes courage.”

“I decided to accept as true my own thinking.”

“You are one of my nicest thoughts.”

“It’s not enough to be nice in life. You’ve got to have nerve.”

“I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way… things I had no words for.”

“I think it’s so foolish for people to want to be happy. Happy is so momentary–you’re happy for an instant and then you start thinking again. Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous.”

“Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.”

“I can’t live where I want to, I can’t go where I want to go, I can’t do what I want to, I can’t even say what I want to. I decided I was a very stupid fool not to at least paint as I wanted to.”

“I’m frightened all the time. But I never let it stop me. Never!”


“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”

“As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death.”

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

“Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?”

“Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.”

“Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.”

“The noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding.”

“Learning never exhausts the mind.”

“While I thought I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.”

“Study without desire spoils the memory, and it retains nothing that it takes in.”

“I love those who can smile in trouble…”

“It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.”


“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.”

“I paint flowers so they will not die.”

“I paint myself because I am so often alone and because the subject I know best.”

“I think that little by little I’ll be able to solve my problems and survive.”

“Nothing is absolute.”

“Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away.”

“My painting carries with it the message of pain.”

“There is nothing more precious than laughter.”

“Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?”

“I paint flowers so they will not die.”

“The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.”

“I am my own muse, I am the subject I know best. The subject I want to know better.”


“There are always flowers for those who want to see them.”

“I don’t paint things. I only paint the difference between things.”

“Don’t wait for inspiration. It comes while one is working.”

“Creativity takes courage.”

“An artist must not feel under any constraint.”

“We ought to view ourselves with the same curiosity and openness with which we study a tree, the sky or a thought, because we too are linked to the entire universe.”

“A certain blue enters your soul. A certain red has an effect on your blood-pressure.”

“Art should be something like a good armchair in which to rest from physical fatigue.”

“To look at something as though we had never seen it before requires great courage.”

“Impressionism is the newspaper of the soul.”

“In love, the one who runs away is the winner.”

“Cutting into color reminds me of the sculptor’s direct carving.”


“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”

“If people knew how hard I had to work to gain my mastery, it would not seem so wonderful at all.”

“Lord, grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish.”

“The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.”

“Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

“Genius is eternal patience.”

“The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection.”

“A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.”

“Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle.”

“Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

“There is no greater harm than that of time wasted.”

“I am still learning.”

Can’t Remember to Forget You | i

Summary: When you almost die in battle, a distraught Bucky - afraid of what will become of him if he loses you - decides to end things. But what happens when he loses his memory, only to end up falling in love with you all over again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1172

Warnings: Language? but none (yet)

A/N: SURPRISE (AGAIN)! Since I’ve had you all waiting on the edge of your seats for this, here’s your first taste of crtfy!! I hope this lives up to your expectations even thought its shitty af (Blade assures me its not but we know how I am) and please, let me know what you think!! 

crtfy masterlist

Originally posted by caps-bucky

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