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beginningIt feels like it's been forever since we took our first steps together, not as twelve individuals, but as a unified 'one'. It didn't stay like that forever, of course. Our Concept wasn't just to be One, but to be One, As Portrayed By Twelve Who Walk The Same Earth Under Different Skies. It was just as much a mouthful then as it is now, I can assure you.
As the maknae of the group, my job is to sit and be adorable by providing aegyo on command and coercing my hyungs into taking me out for bubble tea. It is also my job to dance -- I'm the lead dancer -- and rap -- a sub-rapper -- and even sing on occasion.
But what they don't tell me to do is sit and not just watch, but observe.
If I'm going to be completely honest, that's Joonmyun hyung's job. As Exo's leader and the 'Guardian of Exo' -- so declared by our Concept -- Joonmyun is the one who sits and watches and makes sure that everything is going okay.
In the beginning, it was a lot easier for Joonmyun hyung to be our 'Gua
Art of War 01: angels"Sparkling angel, I believe
you are my savior
in my time of need."
It was still dark when Sandeul found Jinyoung upon the hilltop that overlooked the Tree of Knowledge.
In the distance, flights flickered and danced in the branches, lighting up the hopes, dreams, and miseries that resided within the elderly tree. And beneath them, spry as ever despite his age, the guardian of the tree lay sprawled out under one of the lower-hanging branches, gesturing wildly to the tree itself, to the lights, and to whomever might be close enough to to overheard his rambling.
Jinyong glanced to after a long moment, pale blue eyes fixing on the younger angel's face before a slow, easy smile curved at his lips. "Kyungsoo has no idea how incredibly entertaining he is. It's really quite something." Sandeul
They were to be the best, to be absolute, to be perfect, and at their debut on January 26, 2012, they were exactly that. They were the best. They were absolute. They were perfect.
But perfect was a relevant term.
The idea of B.A.P was conceived in late 2011 when the then-soloist Bang Yongguk, a rapper and composer, began promoting with TS Entertainment labelmate Song Jieun of the girl group Secret. Their song, a midtempo hip hop ballad tilted "Going Crazy", was combination of Jieun's vocals and Yongguk's rapping, where the rap was composed by Yongguk himself. The concept of the song, which was darker than what Jieun's group normally had, was that the protagonist, the vocalist, was being stalked by her obsessed ex-lover and could no longer stand it.
Despite thoughts that "Going Crazy" wouldn't garner much interest, the public had an immediate and definite interest in the song. The public demands was so incredible that what was originally supposed t
Finding An Infinitive: phase 01 - To LiveSeoul, South Korea was a wonderful place to live. Ask anyone, anywhere, and they would tell you the same. The traffic could be a little much sometimes, but the economy was booming, the jobs were plentiful, and the crime rate was so low it was almost nonexistant. There were parks for children to play in, high quality schools with educators determined to bring students to the top, neighbors that were friends rather than strangers.
But every family -- or in this case, city -- has a black sheep, a skeleton in the closet, a secret that must be kept from the public. Even Seoul.
Hidden beneath the glamour of ordinary lives, civil unrest was building. Two factions within Seoul were at war, forever at each other's throats, living in constant states of unease.
They were the people that, in a sense, owned the city.
They kept Seoul safe from dangers posed by criminals and the scum of the earth.
They were unsung heros, keeping the law just, the leaders wisened and empowered, the families of their f
Finding An Infinitive: phase 00 - To BeginIt was taking too long.
The clock on the wall opposite his desk, the one whose steady tick tock kept in unfaltering rhythm with his heartbeat, read that it was twenty-five minutes past eight, and it was taking too long.
There was a knock at the door a short while later, almost lost among the noise from the clock. His attention flickered to the door at the sound, and an expression that couldn't quite be considered a smile, and nowhere near relief, pulled at his lips. "Come in."
The door opened, light pooling in across the floor of the room, haloing a lanky figure in the doorway with white light, delicate features awash in the glow from the main room. Eyes narrowed as the other slipped into the room, door shutting soundlessly, leaving both in the comforting safety of darkness.
"You're late," the man mumbled, the sound petulant and rather childlike in quality, lips quirking at the corners in a way that signified fondness and belied his tone. There was laughter, soft, quiet, and soo
I GiorniStudent ;;
- a person formally engaged in learning, especially one enrolled in a school or college; pupil
- any person who studies, investigates, or examines thoughtfully
- a person who teaches or instructs, especially as a profession; instructor.
Woohyun stares down at the piano from over Sungkyu's shoulder, eyes narrowed in concentration as his friend's fingers flash across the keys. The right hand extracts a flowing melody from the piano, counterpart dancing across the lower octaver, supporting the melody that hums and spreads and filled the room.
It's a skill that Woohyun was wanted to learn for the longest time now, ever since the morning that Sungkyu played the Italian piece for him and their family and friends. It's the one he's playing now, where his hands flash across the octave up and around middle c, then another octave higher.
Beautiful, Woohyun thinks as he hums absently to the melody, a beautiful song. In a moment, Sungkyu's hand
Bridging The Gap"Donghae, if you don't get up this instant, you're going to be late, and I am not taking you to the school."
Donghae groans and turns his head, face pressing into his pillow. A headache rages behind his eyes, and all he wants at this moment is to close his eyes again and drift back to sleep. But before he can make a stab at the feat, someone knocks at his door -- just once -- before it flies open. His mother, Heechul (although technically Heechul is his father, and not even his feath father at that, but Donghae's never been one for technicalities this early in the morning) stands there, eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a frown. A hand is pressed against his hips, fingers tapping a stacatto beat against his thigh.
"Lee Donghae, get up this instant." There is a dangerous undertone to the words now, one that Donghae can't help but recognize as the getupgetupgetup alarm, and he pushes himself out of bed, falling onto the floor with an unforgiving whump of sound.
He whines; his mo
8 Minutes, 23 Seconds"Mom?" The word is quiet, hesitant, almost not even there but his mother still glances away from the road. They are on their way back from the doctor's office, a routine checkup because, at age six, he's always been a little smaller than the kids his age, a little weaker, a little slower, never quite up the par when it comes to physical activities.
She's smiling, that characteristic smile that reaches and curls her eyes into crescents, the brilliant expression he'd inherited from her at birth. "Yes, sweetie?"
Her son frowns, lips pulling down at the corners. "Mommy, why are there numbers above your head?"
His mother blinks, confused, then laughs, the sound light and airy in the interior of their car; if he'd known better, maybe he would have heard the slight tremor in the sound. But he didn't; instead, all he heard was the comfort of his mother's soothing laughter, and he is put at ease even before she answers. "It's nothing honey, they'll go away soon."
They do, in fact, go away soon.
Make A Wish"But I don't want to," Donghae says immediately, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.
His parents exchange a glance, his father grimacing in distaste. "Donghae, we really don't have much of a choice. We put off the binding as long as we could in hopes that you would find someone on our own, but you nver managed to find anyone--"
"They threw themselves at me, father," is the protest, rushed and bitten. "I want to make a connection with someone. A connection like you and mom had!"
A smile pulls at his mother's lips. Donghae knows she finds this funny, because she finds everything funny, a trait she gave to her sons, and his father mirrors the joy he feels through their bond with an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips. But then it's gone and he's frowning and Donghae feels a weight pushing down upon him, pinning him back against the sofa.
Donghae knows what's coming now and he scowls even as his mother rises and leaves the room. His father watches her go before turning back t
To Walk Into Lovei didn't fall in love with you.
i walked into it, each step a compulsive uncontrolled 'why not?' because...well, why not?
i see you every day, and every hour, and every minute, because you're in my head - stuck, like a song i just can't get sick of. you're a little splash of heaven in my endless hell.
i want to know everything about you, from what you had for breakfast to why you have that tiny, faded scar on the back of your left arm. i want to hear the stories of your life, because i know they'll be the most exciting stories ever. i want to run my fingers through that straw-coloured hair and feel the softness of your lips on my cheek, and whisper your name with the softest breath.
maybe someday (i hope dream pray), you'll turn around and spot me in the crowd, and you'll take my hands in yours and pull me closer, and you'll walk into love with me too.
Till then though,
I love you.
Skin DeepShe is beautiful, in a ruined way. Her eyes are wide and wet, bright blue made brighter by the cherry stain of burst blood vessels. Her skin is milky white, her lips are rosy red. She is thin, like an elegant skeleton, an insectiod humanoid crawling through the narrow tunnel of passer-by's vision, uncanny and enthralling. Tangled, matted hair and a rasping, broken voice turn her into a fantasy. She was a queen, in another life, and now she is all that is lovely, thrown away, gone to waste. But this is what makes her a heroine, a shining beacon of urban myth become truth become legend, beckoning in all her glory as she stands on the corner.
Her beauty is what makes me open my car door as she smiles broken teeth at me, inviting. Her's is a world I want to know, and anticipation of the sweet taste of it makes my breath come fast as she slides carefully, carelessly onto the smooth leather of my passenger seat. With movements quick and halting, she turns to face me, dilated pupils flaring w
ShoppingI'm not looking hard enough
but I'm seeing underneath,
Tell that to my knees,
the very ones
that throb, and ache.
Bruised from car doors
They hurt a lot worse
than it looks.
But, boys don't like girls
with broken knees,
or eyes for someone else.
I don't bother anymore
looking, that is.
I write and write and write
and write and write and write
Of loves that never happened,
flaws and imperfections
[ as I forgot how to shape my lips
to form words in my defense. ]
Sasuke Poem.Alone in the darkness,
Stuck in my thoughts,
Wandering around where i called Home.
Pain, Suffering.. This landmark is merly a house.
I lay on my bed, Misunderstood.
I tried! I did everything i could,
I could have changed it!
But now i'm stuck with this fate.
Thinking hurts my head,
My mind is clouded.
My heart is Bound.
Hate & Revenge... Power is required.
I can't stop thinking, My eyes grow tired.
The salty driplets of water refuse to stop.
My head is pounding.
This pain is extreme. My heart is tearing.
Somebody save me from this nightmare.
But it's a reality i can't stand, cannot bare.
I have to face it alone.
This decision is tiring..
clenching my fists.. Screaming..
Hoping at least one would hear me!
I feel trapped!
This pressure is to much,
This hatred is lust!
I want it, I desire it.
I need this power!
Obtaining that will end this shit!
The need to feel the weight of my veins,
Rather then this strain on my emotional stain.
I'm cursed, by you.
This black ink runs throug
AppearancesYou never looked more perfect.
I know you try to hide your body. On weekend mornings, when we finally convince ourselves to get out of bed, I watch you get dressed. You reach out into the pile of clean clothes I keep promising to organize-even though we both know I'm lying-and you'll grab a shirt. Sometimes you'll notice right away and throw it back in the pile, but sometimes you'll put it on. Even though mine fit you perfectly, you still prefer your own, much baggier clothes. I know you're trying to hide in the folds and wrinkles.
You laugh it off, but I notice the way your shoulders drop, and how your smile fades when your friends tease you. Their words are the only image you have of yourself. Even when I tell you you're gorgeous you think I'm just being polite. But when have I ever been polite?
I wish you knew.
Remember when I took you to the symphony? I somehow convinced
because he makes him.because he makes him laugh.
a soft smile slides across your face as you see the sprawled figure entangled in sheets in front of you.
"hey," you whisper, tugging at his hair.
"nugghehrhghe." he lifts an arm up and flails about, looking for your hand. you place yours in the path of his arm, and he grasps it.
you laugh, low and soft, and you pull him up. he tries to get up and off the bed, but trips around the pile of blankets at his feet. you catch him, as you do everyday, and plop him on your lap.
"whatwedoing." he mutters, squinting against the sunlight flooding the room.
"something. anything. i'm not planning on wasting a bright, sunny day like th--" you sigh as he collapses into your lap, eyes squeezed tight against the sun.
"but i'm sleepy!" you don't say anything, letting your fingertips gently massage his scalp and smiling as his hums of contentment reach your ears.
finally, you tap your fingers on his head, saying, "i guess another hour or so in bed with your sleepi
Rebirth - SleepTwisted under featureless sheets,
I drag unbearable shapes.
Clutch them closely to my mouth
and restless; stay awake.
I find one day to be finished.
The walls bare, the lights out,
The streets fallen silent and still,
No sails turn in the cool of tonight
No willpower works the mill.
I would be reborn a phoenix,
If I could clear my head-
Instead I lie, my plumage crushed,
Buried in ashen bed.
falling asleep in summertime.you haven't seen him for a while.
10 months, 23 days, 8 hours and 59 minutes, to be exact.
as the two of you walk along the road, hands seeking warmth in woolen pockets, a snowflake hits you in the eye and you flinch.
"it's snowing." he murmurs.
you agree silently and continue walking.
a few seconds pass by, carrying a couple hundred of snowflakes along with them.
"are you cold?"
"are you cold?"
soft laughter filled the surroundings, and the snowflakes fell faster.
"i have a spare scarf if you need it."
you softly decline, but he drapes it around your neck anyway.
as the street-lamps flicker on, you slow to a stop by a crossroad, and point to your right.
"my house is that way. i guess it's good night for today."
he smiles at you as he agrees.
"it's great catching up with you. i'll see you soon?"
he watches you quietly as you wait for his response. he smiles again, and you take his smile as an answer. with a smile of your own, you turn and head home.
or you planned to, anyway, un
3:00amThere's always fear amidst his joy,
a little voice in the back of his head,
warning him of everything that might go wrong.
Yet, the nightly ghosts and the monsters
who lurk and scratch the floor under her bed,
were just the myths of a man who
wanted an excuse to hold her each night.
He doesn't think like this anymore,
he lies awake and ponders as the shadows
sway in their tribal dance along the walls,
and wholeheartedly hopes, that they
will rip a frustrated scream out of his throat
one that's loud enough to conceal the nagging voice.
"Oh my boy, haven't I warned you?
Love is a sin, don't come near
fairy-tales are only meant for books,
but you dove right in, driven by a foolish need.
You've tasted the bitter end of a blade
roles switched, now you're the monster she fears."
"She says your smile is beautiful,
like a sun shining so bright, a strength through your pain,
yet she fails to see the poisonous thorns
you nurtured with treason and grudge.
She doesn't know
to be a best friendstaring down bullies
that leer and loom,
though their shoe
weighs more than you do
funny faces with crossed eyes and waggling
fingers to chase away
the teasing words;
uniting together against the popular kids
that don't understand
why we're friends when you're you
and i'm me
growing together, physically,
mentally and emotionally, taking strength
from each other, learning
wrong from right and right from left,
and knowing that even though we're growing up,
age is mind over matter;
as long as we're together,
if you don't mind, it doesn't matter
graduation, that great accomplishment,
a ceremonial walk across the stage,
heart drilling a cadence
as we laugh, dance, cheer --
we're all together,
you, me, us, them --
together for the last time
because life starts now,
and nothing will ever be the same
moving miles away, no longer
in walking or driving distance,
unreliable internet the only means
of communication was we struggle
to piece a relationship
Keep in Touch!
A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More