“Don’t hurt yourself anymore, okay?”

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Part of the reason is because I don’t feel any (positive) connection to this community. Every time I want to check, I ask myself: What do I even hope to gain from this? Inspiration to write again? Motivation? And when I finally do log in, I feel nothing as I look through the dash — no excitement, no motivation. Actually, maybe a bit of relief because, damn, I no longer feel like I have to fit in or try because I no longer care.

I used to feel a certain amount of dread every time I decided to log on, and in the very beginning I’d cry out of anxiety when I scrolled through my dashboard. In hindsight, I should’ve taken it as a huge red flag and simply left. I barely even interacted with anyone back then, lol. Just by observing, the general tone seemed harsh and unconstructive. The atmosphere was highly excluding and people were desperate (including myself) to be a part of something, causing us to flock to blogs that wrote certain popular characters. To me, it seemed more like a popularity contest than anything else.

And yes, I feel like I can allow myself to say all of these things now, because I’m no longer a part of it. I no longer feel the need to defend it, deny it or try to convince myself to stay. Obviously, there were a few people, who I thought were nice. Otherwise, it was like arriving to a huge party where everyone huddled together in cliques, skeptical of others and sometimes each other even.

At last, I’m not saying that this has to change. In fact, I doubt it’ll, and I honestly don’t care if it does or doesn’t. And I’m aware that there are people who enjoy it as it is. I just came here to provide my five cents on why I no longer feel the need to contribute to this community (if you can even call it that). You may even consider this my last contribution, and you can choose to agree or disagree, or partly. You can choose to take this as feedback to take action in the future and change something or do nothing at all. I don’t care.

Aside from the strange social aspect of this community, I think I had my fun in terms of creating Chiyori as my character and using my digital design skills to set up the blog and everything.

100 Non-verbal Prompts | Accepting | @cymerae

During their car ride back, a mild silence seemed to dominate the atmosphere. Chiyori was seated in the back, and next to her, the researcher. In front was the driver, whose attention seemed to be wholly focused on the road ahead. He was clad in the signature grey suit of a Jujutsu manager assistant.

For the sorceress, it’d been another regular day at work, which had meant another long day dealing with curses. Though, today, she’d let the foreign researcher accompany her on her mission, to let her gather some observational data. After getting picked up, the sorceress had let exhaustion crash over her like a wave, and she had simply resigned to letting her head rest on the window sill. As she looked out, everything seemed to brush past like the smearing of a painting.

Angel, Babe, Bunny, Hot Stuff, Goddess, Gorgeous, Kitten, Miss Crybaby, Pretty, Princess, Sugar, Sweetheart

List of pet names she likely would call partners (regardless of gender):

There was something oddly comforting about watching another cute girl scramble about in the kitchen while Chiyori herself sat atop of the counter. Her hands were placed on each side of her thighs, fingers holding onto the edges of the surface. She was observing patiently, feet swinging idly back and forth as amber gaze followed the pinkette around as she searched in drawers and cabinets for cookingware and ingredients.

Listening with care, a fond smile was drawn onto Chiyori’s features as Jangmi-chan began explaining the steps to her. It was almost as if she was receiving a private cooking lesson. “Right, what cook the slowest go in first,” Chiyori repeated after the other with a solemn nod of her head.

And as her friend kept chittering away, expressing her impatience due to hunger, Chiyori’s head canted lightly to the side. “Cooking everything from scratch is overrated, anyway!” She assured her friend. “I’m sure it’s going to taste great.” After all, she trusted in her friend’s cooking skills. Besides, Chiyori couldn’t wait to taste the Korean signature dish herself, (which she by the way still had trouble pronouncing, even after Jangmi-chan had tried to teach her how to say it).

At the comment about her reminding the other of a kid and the gentle pat to the head, Chiyori offered her friend an awkward smile in return. She wasn’t sure how to respond, because Jangmi-chan really wasn’t that much older than her.