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fmdrem · 5 years

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date: from december 3rd to 19th, 2018 location: seoul, south korea / various ( mars’ dorms ; dimensions’ meeting & dance practice areas ; gocheok dome backstages & stage ) summary: the despair of jeon ahreum warning: uh okay tbh there’s Some Shit going on and i did my best to tag EVERYTHING i could possibly think of so i still really suggest you to navigate with caution because ahreum’s self-destructive thoughts / warped perception of self AND the way he brings harm to himself are not bloody graphic per se, but they can totally be something hitting close home due to how my writing has been conveying them. tl:dr: ahreum can totally be a character straight outta d*ngan r*npa. word count: 17006 words.

it all had started with a sighting of small little candles and snail shaped sugar treats on top of velvety cupcake swirls displayed at the front window of a pastry shop, the scent of cinnamon cookies, and a flinch of ghosts of birthdays past in wintry seasons greetings always bringing the loneliness of solitary years of struggle down his mouth as a reminder that he had to work harder.

no, it actually all started with the absence of reaction from one who was known to be all reactions and all flames —sitting nearby oldest member and companion while fidgeting with a shirt too big for his lithe frame and skinny legs, with many thinking he simply hadn’t had his morning coffee because it was widely known that jeon ahreum needed his cheap latte ( or anything with a dose of caffeine, truly ) in order to properly spritz life as he’s usually much more known for. it started wth himself and many others exchanging confused gazes because they were called so urgently and it was early, too early —mingi rubbing his heavily bagged eyes and his own hand clinging still onto minjae’s shirt as he wobbled in, geun and siwon looking beyond in need of another hour of sleep at least, because the melon music awards happened int even a few days ago and they weren’t still over their new schedule, finding himself barely curling a smile out and missing the chair he wanted to sit at least three times, and with not a single laugh from anyone because even he wasn’t in the mood for jokes and silliness.

it started with the executives arriving ten minutes late and looking ready to leave ten minutes earlier —as if looking at them all was almost an insult to their eyes like he was an insult to all of their efforts, a reminder to keep questions short and non controversial for the sake of brevity, jabbing at accidents that totally weren’t supposed to happen, especially on stage— talking, and talking while poor ahreum could feel his guts rot and skin getting itchy at the way the higher ups of them all kept mentioning other companies with the spite of a stereotypical villain because of how plain wrong that whole meeting felt like.

it was supposed to be fun. it was supposed to make people happy —and he wanted people to be happy. even if it meant performing songs he didn’t like or keep himself awake with iv strings jammed on his left arm while trying to get changed so fast.

yet he would look at minjae almost as if expecting the worst to strike them all, the people pleaser, almost as if the entire routine that kept him barely there was on the verge of shattering once more. minjae would look back wth a worry that felt eons different from his own, give him a pat on the head, but it didn’t feel reassuring at all. nothing seemed to feel reassuring at all —nodding and complying and with every single word feeling like being pulled away from his mouth by a fisherman’s hook, because no matter what he didn’t seem to be able to say no, to say a syllable against the way stars aligned and strings pulled.

not even when his scheduled performance with kang junsu was announced with so much nonchalance by the executives before disappearing behind glass doors —and he was sure, so sure minjae could see the pure horror painting his own face white.

it continued with his forehead meeting the hard floor and the skin bruising blue and violet for the twenty-seventh times in the span of a week. or maybe less. days and nights always seemed to blend together like the millions of facets he’d shatter himself into in order to hide what’s ugly, because that’s what made people happy.

but he was doing something wrong. it must be certainly it.

so he’d get up. he’d twirl and jump and fall again. he’d get up again, repeating that cycle over and over and making it part of an even bigger cycle —as if punishing himself for breaking down at home a few days prior because of how he broke down in sobs and tears after returning home from a meeting he’d rather compare to a death sentence, even if minjae and mingi and everyone consoled him within those walls —even when they’d reassure the the dying sun that was he to be free to let whatever was being bottled inside his heart even when ahreum knew so well that whatever was inside of him was rotten and ugly and completely shameful to even think about.

it was a reason for why he’d push himself even harder, he’d chop himself into even finer pieces. just like his head kept throbbing with ache after telling minjae that yes, he was going to get the errands game going, that he was doing nothing except for dilly-dallying even if in his voice could be felt letting go of an exhale of uncertainty —pushing his hair to part so that the bangs would cover the bruises because he didn’t want to bother the makeup artists for some foundation ( it would bring questions, he didn’t want to answer ), putting a hat on alongside the best and most believable birthday boy face he could muster, sending hearts and smiley faces at whoever decided it was okay to waste a message or two to send for his birthday, because admitting that he was happy to see his friends thinking of him was selfish and he couldn’t be selfish at all, that was ugly and he was ugly and needed to stop at once if he wanted to be better and be more useful to others.

( causing problems after problems, stupid ahreum, idiotic puny thing always wasting everyone’s time )

he felt the ripple of anxiety lacerating his spine when there was people at home and his idea was just to get showered and bury himself into the studio, because he felt like the mask had grown thinner and thinner and was on the verge of breaking. or maybe it was a sign that the cycle needed to be broken and he didn’t want to, no. that meant exposing himself with all those missing pieces and pulverized sides —ugly ugly ugly ugly—, it meant disappointing and disappointment never made people feel happy, it meant failure, complete annihilation.

he’d hop from person to person with a smile on his face while inside he’d screech at them all for coming because they were supposed to do better things, things suiting their greatness and worth and not anything remotely associated with himself. he’d look at the cake on his plate and minjae sitting in front of him, give a small smile, open his mouth and letting the truth go for once in god knew how much time.

the bruise on his forehead still throbbed.

“ i don’t know if i even deserve any of this. ”

kang junsu released songs and pieces of himself were scattered in seven tracks like pieces of himself were now scattered on countless floors, and he felt exposed and disgusted to the core.

why junsu.

( it burns, like boiling water against the skin because he must be cleansed and purged or he won’t be getting any better. )

why.

( it fills the head with pain, against the wet tiles. again. again. again. to punish himself for stupid thoughts. )

why.

( it makes his heart think of himself as a touch number when he’s not. when he craved still the love of someone he was nothing but a stepping stone for. )

why.

its conclusion: gocheok dome could be filled with people to the brim or as empty and desolate as dimensions’ wallet, but jeon ahreum would still feel like he got shoved back in joseon and he was having his last walk of shame towards his last breath, covered in heavy damasks and gold shaped as a cloak to be pulled away from him with virulence and a fake halo fitting the saintly being he was not —gold lining his eyes and the guidelines for tears to follows as the way makeup artists would chirp how much he was pretty when all he wanted to do was to rip off all that gold from himself because it was always and solely meant for someone else.

always someone else, never himself.

he was selfish, ontop of a pipe organ with his whole vision being white and his own balance barely steady. he found himself abhorring. loathing every single bit of this, from the cameras ready to capture every single frame of his contorted despair, the organizations counting revenues over it all, those who were there to even more demean an art he’s given life and soul and happiness just because of his name not holding enough fame, the ceos and their sadism barely fed by money and backstabbing, whoever was the evil mastermind within the troposphere who remotely thought any of this pantomime was a good idea to begin with. hating himself so much for not wanting himself to strive for something better too —he knew the reasons, he knew, let him throw that tantrum, it won’t resurface ever again, promise—, for having never been able to say no when he had the chance because even more so now was too late and he couldn’t pull back from that unveiling tragedy. it was the price to pay because he was a filthy coward, right?

( no, tell me i’m wrong, i’m tired, let me out, let me out——— )

he could see junsu’s hands trembling while grasping at the side of the curtain ( do you miss me for real, he’d ask, but his mouth is sewn shut ) and he felt the urge of punching his stomach for even thinking of wanting to hold those hands into his equally trembling ones, because he lost that right three years ago and most likely junsu would be too disgusted to be touched by one like him.

people gasped in collective shock at the way the pulled curtain fell and a tear fell down his eye.

#fmdyearend #━ SELF-P ✦#self-loathing tw /#self-harming tw /#depression tw /#self-destructive behavior tw /#suicidal thoughts tw /#suicidal tendencies tw /#mental illness tw /#anxiety tw /#unreality tw /

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modernwitchesdaily · 7 years

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I have something to say to you, my dear followers...

Today, I’ve learned about something and it made me ashamed... Truly ashamed.

I’ve been told someone had repost one of my comic page without credits on their blog. This is something I find very sad, but this is not why I’m ashamed.

I’m ashamed because, on my behalf/without telling me first or for some reason I can’t even explain, some people have sent death threat to that person for the only reason my art wasn’t credited. And I feel very bad about it. VERY BAD.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s ok to repost art without crediting or asking the artist. I, myself, don’t like when people repost my art for reason I’ll detail later. But I can’t agree with that and let people harassing other because they think they are some kind of justice warriors or I don’t know... We are all humans behind our laptops and computers and words can hurt a lot, you never know what the person you’re harassing is going through at the moment IRL or not and it can make so much damage on them... I just can’t accept that!!!!

There is nothing in this behavior that is related to the way I see modern witchcraft or the way I want to make you feel by drawing this comic... This is against everything I believe in.

Come on, be human for a second.

I’m feeling really bad about this... Really... Even if it’s bad to repost art without credits or approbation of the artist, this action doesn’t deserve death threats, like... seriously guys! WTH? I don’t like reposts and art theft AT ALL, but there is no way you can say something like that to someone because they did it!

I support artists who’s art is being stolen a lot or reposted all the time without credits on a lot of website or social media. It’s happening to a lot of my friends and it’s always sad.

I post my art directly on Tumblr so it can be reblogged from my blog Modern Witches Daily, with the proper credits and source. I feel uncomfortable with reposts on Tumblr because I created my blog to share my art with everyone not for other people to share it for me. And most of the time, nobody asks me before doing it. Even if the intention is good, it kinda hurts, especially when you see a repost with more notes than your original post and where you’re not credited. You can all understand that, I think. I put a lot of energy into that comic and notes are like... a reward, yes, kind of, it’s like... something telling me that people love my work and, as an artist (who is sometime going through phases of I-don’t-like-my-art-anymore), it's very important! But how can I know it if other people share it instead of me and without credits?

But still, it’s doesn’t justify in ANY case that someone receive death threats in their ask box because they didn’t credited me. Ear me well, here and now, I don’t want you to defend me/my art by harassing other people on Tumblr or anywhere else, not on my watch! If you see a repost or anything, send me a PM on Tumblr and I’ll handle this myself! Alright?

I never asked for that kind of “defense”, and it hurts me more than anything to see how rude people can be because they think they are doing this for me or for the art community... But I refuse to be related to this kind of violence! I find this terribly wrong, no matter what the problem is here, death threats are not the way and never will be!

The day I’ll need your help will be when big companies or t-shirt printing websites will have their hand on my art without my agreement, and sell it. Then, I’ll need you to signal these actions, but I’ll never need you to send death threat to anyone, because this is very serious, terrible and shameful.

Thank you for reading this and I hope it won’t happen again!

You’re supporting me a lot and I don’t want a group of my followers to hurt other people for this kind of stuff. Please, contact me first before being rude to any other human being if you see uncredited reposts! May this be a positive lesson for all parts of this story!

Sorry for all those who aren’t concerned, I needed to be clear on that!

I send you a lot of good and peaceful vibes,

Love,

Vicky from Modern Witches Daily ~

#tl;dr #rant #repost #tumblr life #blog life #status #please read #important #modernwitchesdaily

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