Latest Posts by panca123 - Page 2

my beloved bastard

Epilouge

i miss orv

A friend requested that I post some ORV thoughts on Tone and Themes from discord. I have edited the messages for better organization and clarity below:

There are a lot of quotes that you could argue are the culmination or distillation of ORV. You could also argue that ORV itself is not reducible to a single quote because of the sheer enormity of it, and how that size is a component of the story itself. But if I were to convey the specific melancholy of ORV-- my most fundamental read on the Feeling of ORV-- I would choose one quote to do so.

I’d fall back on, “In a world turned upside down, where monsters were rampant, we still had to clear the snow.”

Throughout the immense battles of good vs evil or gods and demons, ORV remains a story about people doing the things they have to in order to continue living.

And there is a distinct melancholy to that: the grief stricken “is it just this forever,” everyone being a regressor, and the mundane tragedies of struggling on in a world that will build a narrative around you regardless of your input or desires. However, all of these things are part and parcel to ‘surviving’ in a ruined world

It's about taking those small steps forward, regardless of cataclysmic tragedy and world-rending stakes. You still have to clear the snow. You still have to take care of the people around you. You still have to cook dinner. You still have to live.

It's the melancholy of a 'nevertheless', and that's a hopeful kind of melancholy. Reaching out and trying again and again. Leaving a mark on the wall because someone might read it. Regressing so that one day you won’t have to. Iterating and changing and trying again and again. It’s about making attempts.

It's about finding ways to survive, even if you've forgotten a few.

(Late) Valentines with Yoohankim 💝💐🧁🧸

Exchange!

Bonus 🤨🌹

it's salty

HSY

YJH

KDJ

i think we as a community need to appreciate 1863rd hsy's madness & desperation more

epilogue II

the beautiful days still didn’t arrive or at least not as i had imagined - there was no bright and early awakening, or a stretch towards the sun, no feeling of "i am finally worthy" and no lack of the familiar shadows. the beautiful days were disjointed and blemished, the streets were littered and the sun was too hot, the clouds too little, the breeze on my cheek not enough to ruffle my hair like the movies. the ancient cathedral was a modern art installation and the historical city was a street, but my heart was stirred all the same

my beautiful days were so ordinary i barely noticed, until the stroke of midnight, how much i loved them. come back to me, night spent in a hotel room playing mafia, come back to me exhausted laughter and charades and home-cooked pasta. come back to me, friends, and accuse me of being the mafia again and let me laugh and incriminate myself again, and let me love you in that moment, please, i didn't realise it then

my sweet forgiving days let me sleep in though the 8am alarm still woke me, perhaps my body had heard my desire to consume and conserve the daylight hungrily - summer sun, let's put aside our rivalry, you made our smiles glow so gently on the last day, i owe you

my sweet forgiving days, that i fear, that i fear are lulling me into complacency, i fear so much but i love you still. i love you still, i thank the heavens for you still, train delays and all. i'll trudge through the city on tired feet and sleepless muscles again, come back, i'll wear my short sleeves and you will make it feel okay.

come on, hurry, the train will soon arrive and the karaoke place will soon close, i heard my voice in recording and i'll forgive it, i sang you proud. the city is so alive, breathing me in and out, pushing me against the hand-grip of the subway and pulling me from bookstore to bookstore, up and down the stairs and up and down, and up once more because the apartment was always one floor higher than i hoped, though i already knew that from the blue flower prints i memorised, and the rainbow mat of the neighbour who must've cursed us out, let me send flowers to them, let me send flowers. thank you for allowing me joy and delirium and obnoxious laughter. happiness is so fleeting and easily questioned, forgive me, allow me your mercy of returning again and again, and again as i look into my friends' smiles and burst into giggles. 

my beautiful days were so short and spaced between the ordinary days (that were still beautiful, god, they were all so beautiful-) but you still fit so much inside; i battle time and memory to keep you with me, a little more, a little longer, let me linger on the memory of touch and sound and don't you dare take it away from me. my world and my people and my people's people and my world's planet, i love you so. 

and when that plane lands, and that shuttle screeches to a halt, and when i walk down that wooden hallway and hear the familiar roll of my suitcase, i know i'll forget you, i'll forget that i'm not alone. the past will beckon me once more and my daydreams will say so what of happiness when there is no success within it. but perhaps one fine morning of sleeping in again the world will forgive me as it always does, as i pray it always will, and i will be reminded that i have pockets of my heart beating gently around this stupidly large globe. maybe a smile or a joke will set it off, maybe a moment of sadness or even frustration, maybe i can be missed as i miss you so already, all of you, all of you, all of you who i remember and forget with the turn of the earth and the pilot's steady descent onto the landing. i love you so much even when i don't. i love you so much even though i will never be certain that you love me, i will never accept that you can love me differently or less or more, or perhaps not at all. not at all. not at all- 

but you did for a moment, right?

epilogue

the beautiful days never quite arrived. not to say that I made it any easier for them, waiting and waiting, as if golden rain would arrive any moment into this closed cell room, under this creaky bed. these days I find myself lost in a new daydream, one where I wake up, and it was all a nightmare, and it is the morning of 2018 again. and I will remember all that I did wrong, and I will fix it: I will love my friends the way they deserved to be loved, I will give and give and give to the people I am in debt to. and they won’t know of my wrongs, so this time around, just this time, I might be forgiven in advance. it’s too happy of a dream, too far away from reality, too much for my heart to bear when I blink my eyes and it is not the afternoon I dreamt of.

God, acceptance is a virtue I have yet to learn. and wasn’t struggle supposed to be retribution? wasn’t it supposed to be noble, and good, and wasn’t it supposed to be the key to happiness? did I pick the wrong kind of struggle, the kind against my own reality, or is it that the struggle of running away is no more noble than that of the coward against his own enemies? I wish I knew.

And in the pleasant dream of 3 years ago, everything went perfect. Because I knew what words to say, to make you love me, and I knew what mistakes to avoid, and- What if I never met her? How is she doing, right now, how do I spend the next 3 years not knowing if we will cross paths again, what if I don’t get to laugh with you? No, the future had so much more pain, and regret. But what about the paintings, and the gifts, and the phone calls? What about the cats outside my window, what about the flowers that lasted one week? Why now? Why do I have to think of all that is good now, seeped in the misery of all that is not?

But, again, this is just a dream. My phone screen will always read 2021, in the bleary lighting of my too-warm room. And the beautiful days won’t arrive, because they never existed. I won’t wake up at 4AM every morning, jump out of bed for a morning run, make a warm cup of coffee and complete my work before the sun ever rises. It eats away at my soul, at times: the thought of facing my younger self, who prayed for a beautiful dress so everyone could love her, who asked for different skin and eyes and smile, so maybe they would turn around and embrace her.

My shame takes the shape of that child, again, and I must hold her day after day and tell her I am so sorry, child, I’m so sorry I ruined your dreams, please, let me piece together whatever happy ending I can from the small hopes I find for you today. There is no perfect ending, child, there is no magic quite like what you and I hope for. But today I woke up at 4:35 AM, and I got something done, and I fell asleep till the afternoon. I didn’t go for a morning run, but I walked to the park before sunset. I didn’t face every terrifying problem, but I read one chapter, sent one apology. If only the perfect days had existed, so I would know what it felt like. All I know is a dream and the fact that one hour of reading was so much more than nothing. All I know is the warmth of waking to the sunrise, no matter how poorly the day went ahead. All I know is that I must love this life however I can, however it may be, just as one loves a child, in spite of, because of, all that makes them imperfect.

Orv Poetry Series: One Source of Bad Information by Robert Bly [IDs in alt]

oh..... my meow meows....

"what fic" THE SIDE STORY

Drew that scene in the epilogue where yoohans waiting for kimcom outside. I think hsy in a parka is so cuteee <3

+ extra

Read the webcomic again and decided to do some redraws for warmups (plus some originals).

line that killed me when han sooyoung declared her◾◾. if you even care.

orv bookmark draws, pt. 4: conversations - chps 216 and 370 [parts 1 - 2 - 3]

sweet dreams, dearest reader

For all of y'all who saw the unfinished product

Here is my masterpiece, yess the colours aren't perfect, but I ain't no professional

This will now be used for every meal I eat

more picrews hehe

made my little guys on this picrew

my peaceful omniscient reader legos

Happy birthday to my favorite reader!! I baked cookies for you

also party hat on my squid keychain

you who appeared like a star..

everyone is waiting for you kim dokja!

Happy birthday, our dearest Reader.

message to beloved

Happy birthday, to our star!