#find the hidden haiku

[poppliolover1]

Digimon Ghost Game liveblog: Final cour, AKA: An ending yet a beginning

Overall opinion: A fantastic ending that brings together everything that Ghost Game tried to tell, done as well as it could be done since you can feel the sudden episode cut since again, Bandai and Toei love to sabotage digimon. Already said my thoughts on the commentary itself, but if it isn't clear already, Ghost Game is in fact my favorite season and I highly recommend it to anyone who wants a horror slice of life show with fun characters, moments that makes you question how this is a kids show and amazing tunes and animation.

By the way, there's a hidden haiku in the commentary, try to find it

[psilliguykai]

Happy [depending on your timezone belated-] 2nd birthday CCCC!!

I gotta eep now, but I might add some more thoughts tomorrow ^^

For now, thank you CCCC for being my intro to Chonny Jash, and thank you cj for all the awesome community and inspiration and joy you’ve brought me and so many other people. Your music and characters will always hold a special place in my Heart [haha] <33

[magic-shop-stories]

Can you make a Namjoon version of the pregnancy yoongi headcannon please?

💌 Reply:

Ahhh, thank you for this request! 🥹 Translating Yoongi’s blueprint into Namjoon’s universe was such a joy... and kinda healing to write tbh. If it’s too abstract, blame Joon... you know he’d turn parenthood into a TED Talk on existential botany. Hope this hits right for you, and that the brainrot is mutual (?) Let me know if you need tweaks! 💜 – c –

Kim Namjoon (RM) Pregnancy Headcanons x Reader

Warning: added a short mention of complication/ loss during pregnancy; brief mention of emotional vulnerability/complex feelings

🗿 How He Finds Out

you take the test alone first

needing quiet to process the enormity

the second line appears, you pace the bedroom

fingers brushing over his poetry books, his half-finished clay vase on the shelf...

Namjoon knocks softly after 15 minutes

"Love? You okay? You missed the Monstera’s watering time."

tries to jiggle the stuck door handle (his DIY fix last week)

fumbles with a paperclip

muttering

"Why do I always overtighten things…"

finally nudges the door open

finds you holding the test against your chest

glasses slide down his nose

he freezes

first words whispered like a haiku

"Are we... growing a universe?"

voice tender/ steady

=the way he reads letters at fan events

kneels carefully

avoiding the creaky floorboard

cradles your wrists

test between your joined hands

presses his lips to your temple

"However this goes... we’ll learn from it together."

🌿 Initial Reaction

Panic

spends the first night cross-referencing parenting books with peer-reviewed studies

highlighter in hand

scribbling notes in the margins of "The Hidden Life of Trees"

at 2 a.m. muttering about "epigenetic influences" and "sustainable bamboo diapers"

"Wait, prenatal sound exposure... should we play Debussy or traditional gugak?"

knocks over his bonsai while pacing

frets about "fetal stress responses"

creates a shared Google Drive titled "Project Sprout" before sunrise

Hidden Excitement

find him sketching a willow tree in his journal the next morning

branch roots morphing into tiny hands in the margins

you peek?

he slams it shut, cheeks pink

"Just... analyzing Fibonacci sequences in lotus pods."

later catches himself buying a single onesie

"For... a friend’s cousin!"

pattern: Van Gogh’s Starry Night with embroidered honeybees

you find the receipt tucked in his Walden pocket edition

"Fine. It’s… symbolic. Growth, y’know? Like haewon."

🌱 Worries

Fatherhood Fears

confesses at 2 a.m. over barley tea

steam curling like his restless thoughts

voice quiet

quoting Rilke: 

“Sometimes a man stands up during supper…”

trails off

fingers tracing the rim of his chipped moon-phase mug

“What if I… overwater them? Like my first bonsai.”

you find his journal open to a sketch of a tree split down the middle

one side labeled “Logic/Structure”

the other “Love/Chaos”

underlined in his blocky handwriting: 

“Can I be both roots and sunlight?”

finds him rereading Braiding Sweetgrass at dawn

circled passage:

“Parenting is an act of reciprocity with the future.”

Idol Life Stress

creates a Venn diagram titled “Cosmic Balance” during a flight

= Group Promotions | Prenatal Yoga | UNESCO Speech Drafts

mutters to his manager

“Can we route the Europe tour through Denmark?

Their parental leave policies could optimize…”

stares too long at ultrasound photos during Soundcheck

Jin catches him whispering to the grainy image

“Appa’s figuring it out. Like… how galaxies parent stars.”

forgets lyrics to Moonchild mid-concert

= first time ever

writes emails about “hologram tech for bedtime stories”

🌾 What He Does (Early Days)

Spoiling You

builds a custom "nest" in the sunniest corner of the house (and in his studio if you hang there)

hand-knotted hammock

handpicked field guides

"For our future botanist"

stocks the pantry with your cravings

hides your newfound aversions behind his kombucha SCOBY jars

leaves Post-its on the bathroom mirror:

"Remember: You’re already somebody’s ecosystem."

Overprepared

creates a bullet journal titled "Project Sprout: Phase One"

pages include: pressed gingko leaf tabs marking OB-GYN FAQs

also a graph comparing prenatal yoga studios

doodles of the baby

syncs a shared calendar called "Root Systems"

includes alerts like: ”3 PM: Hydrate (Y/N) + Water Ferns”*, ”7 PM: Debate Middle Names - Plato vs. Haneul?”, ”9:30 PM: Mandatory ‘The Martian’ Rewatch (Stress Relief)”

Hidden Romanticism

catches him playing "uhgood" on a tiny danso flute to your belly

"Early auditory exposure to heritage is… scientifically valid."

secretly starts a lullaby playlist titled "For When the Universe Feels Heavy" 

= curated mix of BTS instrumentals, rain sounds, and Maya Angelou recitations

forges a crib mobile from recycled mic parts and Hanji paper

each star inscribed with lines from his unpublished poems/lyrics:

"You, who will outlive all my words / Forgive me if I borrow the moon to explain your fingers."

🌌 Telling BTS

waits until the 12-week mark

citing "cosmic alignment"

hosts a "philosophy night" dinner

under the guise of discussing "existential metaphors in post-modern art"

sets the table with pressed flowers from his hikes and a centerpiece of his half-sculpted clay "symbol of life" (it’s a lopsided orb)

hides ultrasound printouts

inside Rilke poetry books

passes them out as "thought-provoking reading material"

Jungkook squints at the grainy image tucked between "Letters to a Young Poet"

"Hyung, is this… ? I see a baby... holding a galaxy?"

clears his throat

adjusting his glasses like a professor

"Actually, we’re… collaborating on a new project."

plays the heartbeat recording layered over his "SoundCloud experiment" 

mix of bamboo flute harmonies and his whispered sijo poem:

"Even the moon was once small / cupped in the sky’s dark palms..."

Reactions:

Jin

spills his makgeolli

laughing through half-tears

"Kim Namjoon, father?! Aigoo, the diapers’ll have PhDs!"

instantly Googles "baby-safe kimchi recipes"

"Important they respect fermentation science early."

Jungkook

silent for three full seconds

then leaps up, shaking Namjoon’s shoulders

"HYUNG. I’LL TEACH THEM HOW TO RIDE BIKES AND WRITE SONNETS!"

pauses, panicked

"Wait..which comes first?!"

Yoongi

nods slowly

eyes glinting

"Took you long enough."

slides a USB across the table

labeled "MixTape: Lullabies for Future Anarchists"

he already knew somehow, but kept silent

later, texts Namjoon

"You’ll suck less than you think."

Jimin

cradles your face

tearfully stern

"Uncle privileges include weekly dance lessons. Prenatal starts now."

demonstrates a "womb-friendly" body roll to Butter

Taehyung

holds the ultrasound to the lamplight

absolutely awed

"It’s abstract… like a Banksy!"

starts crooning Winter Bear to your belly

Hobi

immediately FaceTimes his mom for "emergency parenting tips" (as if it's his baby)

restructures your living room into a "positive vibes zone" with feng shui precision

jokes, lots of jokes

"First word has to be ‘J-Hooooope!’ Right? Right?"

Namjoon

tries to quote Kierkegaard on "the leap of faith"

voice cracks

collapses into silent tears when Jin speaks:

"Our leader’s leading a new squad."

later whispers to your belly

"You’ll have seven hearts before you even breathe."

Bonus

Group Chat Name: "The Epigenetics Committee"

Jin changes it to "Tiny Supreme Leader Support Squad"

Yoongi’s Gift

onesie printed with "I Survived Daechwita and All I Got Was This Sleep Deprivation"

Namjoon’s Realization

finds Jungkook asleep on your couch

he's asking you questions about pregnancy

Najoon cries again

posts on Weverse: "Love is a circular equation."

🌳 Telling His Family

visits Ilsan with a hand-painted onesie reading “Future Curator of Nature”

stuffed into a tote bag alongside his childhood pressed-flower collection

his sister answers the door

eyes darting to your bump

“Oppa. You didn’t… Oh my god.”

crushes you both in a hug

then sprints inside yelling (irony)

“Eomma! Appa! Namjoon finally did something cool!”

His Mom

emerges with a wooden spoon

freezes mid-scold about his “city-dust aura”

clasps her hands over her mouth

“Aigoo, my little mundungi…”

ushers you to the ondol floor

already reheating miyeok-guk

“You’re glowing! But Joon-ah...” 

pokes his bicep

“Are you meditating enough? Stress wrinkles age the baby’s aura.”

His Dad

nods stoically over tea

adjusts his reading glasses to study the ultrasound

clears his throat

presses a worn copy of Walden into Namjoon’s hands

margins filled with his own fatherly notes from ’93/94:

“Page 72: Joon cried here. Ask why.”

His Sister

drags you to his childhood bedroom

walls still plastered with dinosaur charts

“Here’s where he cried because T-rexes couldn’t hug properly.”

he was four

slides you a secret USB

“Namjoon’s 2008 Poetry... So Emo It’s Art, also blackmail material for when he’s being too philosopher-dad.”

Hidden Detail

in his old desk, finds a 3rd-grade “Nature Journal”

scribbled theories on “Why Rainbows Belong to Snails”

tucked between pages: a cicada shell labeled “First Heartbreak”

slips it into his bag

later placing it in the nursery

“Proof even confusion can molt into something beautiful.”

The Drive Home

his mom chases the car with a crate of homegrown ssuk and perilla leaves

“Boil the roots! It’ll make the baby’s cry less!”

sister texts: [Attachment: Namjoon age 7, sobbing into a melted ice cream]

🌿 Daily Life

Routine & Rituals

6:03 AM

wakes before dawn to simmer doenjang-jjigae with organic soybeans and kale (he's really trying, and it's not ending in a catastrophe)

leaves notes in calligraphy

“Nourishment is resistance — eat or I’ll recite Hegelian dialectics at you.”

adds doodles of scowling Brussels sprouts and a tiny Plato holding a fork

Post-Lunch Meditation

guides you through “forest bath” visualizations in your living room jungle

“Imagine your lungs as maple seeds… no, gently, you menace.”

his palms are warm and steady

pressing into your shoulders

“The iliac crest isn’t a metaphor, but today? Let’s pretend it is.”

Idol-Life Adjustments

converts his studio bookshelf into a “Zen Den”

matcha packets, lavender sachets, vintage Newton’s cradle for “stress diffusion”

texts PDogg:

“Postpone the feature... I’m optimizing circadian rhythms for two.”

secretly puts a prenatal Pilates ball in his studio

Chores

Laundry Wars

debates Jungkook over eco-detergent pH levels in the group chat

“Lavender is a neurotoxin to fetuses! Cite: Environmental Health Perspectives, 2019!”

Jungkook retaliates

“Hyung, your armpits are the real neurotoxin.”

(tho forget abpout this, I read about Dysfunction of the ABCCII gene, means asian sweat doesn't smell - god, I wish)

Culinary Experiments

attempts kimchi-jjigae

burns the first batch

blames “overzealous thermodynamic exchange”

his mom texts you her recipe with a note to Joon

“Stop intellectualizing the soup.”

Idol Life Impact

skips award show after-parties to chart the moon phases on your belly

writes lullabies sampling Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass” over Moonchild instrumentals

practices babywearing with a handwoven hemp sling

“Ergonomic and a statement against fast fashion.”

Quiet Moments

4:33 AM Playlist Crafting

curates “Symbiosis: A Prelude” 

= blend of bird migration recordings

RM’s trivia: love ad-libs + Yoongi’s Seesaw humming

hidden track: a poem he whispers to your belly nightly

“You are the first universe that ever knew me from the inside.”

Voice Memos

records The Alchemist chapters in English and Korean

apologizes to the bump after mispronouncing

“Forgive me... Appa’s still learning how to hold multiple worlds at once.”

Hidden Clumsiness

knocks over your Himalayan salt lamp (again)

while demonstrating “kangaroo care”

uses the debris to create a mosaic titled “Fragmented Enlightenment”

you find it later in the nursery

labeled “Lesson One: Beauty in Imperfection”

🌏 Public Announcement

Lead-Up

Media Lockdown

hires an eco-conscious cybersecurity firm to "reforest your digital footprint"

code name: "Project Photosynthesis" 

after Taehyung’s slip: "They’re our little sapling!"

convinces Big Hit to issue a statement about "protecting nascent ecosystems"

ARMY thinks it’s climate activism

ARMY Hints

wears a hand-carved gat (traditional hat) during a live

etched with "세상에서 가장 작은 별" (The World’s Tiniest Star)

ARMY deciphers it as a reference to his lyrics

trends #TinyConstellation

he “accidentally” leaves his journal open during a live

revealing a sketch of a tree root cradling a star

Reveal

three months postpartum

posts a watercolor painting on Weverse

his hand holding a seedling

roots entwined with his veins

caption: 

"ARMY, you taught me that growth is a dialogue between light and shadow. Now, I’ve been entrusted with a new dialect; the first breath of a forest I’ll never fully understand. Walk softly with us as we learn to whisper."

attaches a voice memo

= rain sounds, his spoken-word poem

"Dear Meteors Who Choose to Root"

ends with the baby’s coo harmonizing with a nightingale recording (Ilsan, 4:33 AM)

Aftermath

ARMY Reactions

trends #RootedInRM for 94 hours

ARMY plants 814,000 trees globally via "Kim Namjoon Forest Initiative"

donates $1.2M to UNESCO literacy programs "for futures untranslated"

Paparazzi Countermeasures

collaborates with a law firm to draft South Korea’s first "Right to Grow" digital privacy act

releases an anonymous ambient track

"Lens Crack Symphony" 

= field recordings of shuttering cameras dissolving into wind chimes

hosts a guerilla art exhibit

= blurred baby photos pixelated into Van Gogh’s Starry Night

titled "The Distance Between Love and Light"

Hidden Details

Journal Leak

later reveals the seedling painting used persimmon dye from his mom’s garden

Voice Memo Easter Egg

the nightingale recording is from his childhood Ilsan backyard

Law Impact

tabloid stalker photos drop 92%

paparazzi begin calling him "The Unphotographable"

🌱 When You Panic

Trigger

overhears a podcast debating "Nature vs. Nurture in Epigenetic Trauma" while sculpting clay in his studio

phrase like "generational echoes" lodges in his ribs like a splinter

clay cracks under his grip

shattering into jagged moons

Calm Facade, Storm Inside

finds you trembling after a nightmare

your hands clutching a parenting forum thread

cups your face

thumbs tracing the arc of your cheekbones like comet trails

voice steady but eyes galaxies-wide

"Even the oldest trees survived their first lightning strike. We’ll be the soil that grounds the burn."

Secret Meltdowns

sneaks to the balcony at 3 AM

recording a voice memo choked with static

"What if I… overcompensate? Love them too fiercely? Turn into Icarus’ sun?"

sends it to his therapist

texts you:

"Found this study on parental resilience . Want to co-author a rebuttal?"

Acts of Service

brews yuzu tea in his chipped moon-phase mug

one from your first museum date

"Emergency aesthetic intervention required."

dumps two baby socks on your lap

one printed with Kant’s Categorical Imperative

the other with "Ask Me About My Carbon Footprint".

"Which one says ‘I’m fiscally responsible but fun at parties’?"

Idol-Life Impact

skips a UN panel on sustainability

citing "an urgent planetary realignment."

spends the day building a "sensory sanctuary" 

hanging felt clouds, wind chimes tuned to Spring Day’s key

writes a 12-page letter to the baby instead of his keynote speech

"You’ll inherit a world I’ve criticized but still believe in. Forgive me for both."

Hidden Resilience

you find his studio desk littered with failed haiku

"My love is a net / Too many holes, too much sky / Catch nothing but light."

beside it, a single completed verse pinned under a geode

"You will know me / Not by the scars I hid / But the bridges I couldn’t stop building."

🌧️ If Something Goes Wrong (+ Loss)

Hospital Vigils

stands sentinel by your bed

reciting Mary Oliver poems to your IV drip

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious...” 

his voice fractures

bathes your wrists with rosewater from his mother’s garden

hands shaking

“In another universe, we’re still whole. Let’s… let’s borrow from there tonight.”

Guilt/Aftermath

spirals into annotating every parenting book with “Where did I fail?” in crimson ink

you find him at dawn

knee-deep in the backyard pond

he's planting lotus seeds “for unbloomed futures”

studio becomes a shrine of half-scribbled equations

Grief = (Regret x Time) ÷ Unsaid Words

“(Unsung Verse)”

composed at 4:33 AM on a detuned hotel piano during monsoon season

no lyrics

just the hum of rain against glass

single sustained G minor

files it under “Metamorphosis_Data”

encrypts it with a password even he forgets

Post Loss

cancels his Bottega collab/shoot

citing “a necessary erosion”

ARMY trends #StandWithRM

funding a forest reserve in Ilsan named “Seeds Grove.”

he visits

hangs a wind chime from a persimmon tree

“You would’ve loved the sound of rain here.”

Support System

Jin drags him to a pottery studio

slams clay onto a wheel

“Sculpt something that can’t be quantified.”

they sit until dawn

molding silent vases for flowers that never arrive

Jungkook leaves a bonsai sapling on your porch

“It’s okay if it wilts. We’ll grow it again.”

Namjoon keeps it alive

“See? We’re still learning.”

Yoongi mails a USB labeled “For When Words Are Too Loud” 

ambient tracks layered with Namjoon’s old laugh from 2014

Bonus

five years later, during his TED Talk on “The Ecology of Loss”

soft G minor chord seeps into his mic

his toddler "Haewon" toddles backstage

he freezes

“Apologies. My heart’s just… recalibrating its orbit.”

🌌 Gender Reveal

Reaction

ultrasound tech smiles

“Looks like a girl!”

Namjoon’s breath hitches

eyes pooling with constellations

“A daughter… She’ll rewrite every star.”

buys a sapling from the DMZ forest to plant in her name

“So she’ll always know where resilience grows.”

tech corrects

“Wait, no! ...it’s a boy!”

freezes

then grins like he’s solved the universe’s riddle

“A son? Then we’ll learn gravity anew.”

orders a hand-bound journal titled “Hypotheses on Joy” to fill with their future questions

Late-Night Promises

whispers to your belly while sketching the moon’s craters

“You’ll carve your own orbit. Be sculptor or storm. I’ll be your compass, never your cage.”

plays a mixtape of rainfall

“Rhythm isn’t in blood; it’s in the spaces between heartbeats.”

Hidden Rebellion

declines all gender-reveal sponsorships

donates the offers to a nonbinary youth arts fund

tweets a snippet of Audre Lorde’s “There is no hierarchy of oppression”

caption:

“Hierarchies are human-made. My child is a natural phenomenon.”

🌱 Labor & Delivery

Prep

packs a hospital bag weeks early

includes: hand-knit hemp blanket

worn copy of “The Prophet” for whispered readings

portable mini bonsai

“For biophilic stress reduction”

memorizes your birth plan like a thesis defense

color-coded tabs

debates delayed cord clamping using Harvard studies

defers when you snap mid-contraction

“Trust the forest to know its roots.”

During Labor

channels his lyrics count breaths

“Inhale… four… seven… exhale...”

fidgets in his pocket

reciting Rumi under his breath

when contractions peak, he presses his forehead to yours

voice cracking

“You’re the Big Bang happening again. Let it… let it supernova.”

white-knuckles the bedrail

snaps it twice 

First Hold

cuts the cord with tears in his eyes

hands steady but soul trembling

cradles the baby like a relic

awe-struck

speechless (for once)

“You… you’re the poem I could never finish.”

Jungkook finds him at dawn

sketching the baby’s hand in his journal

“Proof that softness can reshape calluses.”

Hidden Moments

Panic Peak

flees to the hospital garden

sobbing into his sleeves

returns with acorn seeds to plant in the baby’s name

BTS Support

Taehyung paints a watercolor of the birth chart stars

Jimin choreographs a “welcome dance” with hospital socks

Lockscreen Lore

photo of the baby

captioned “My First Co-Author”

🌍 Idol Life Challenges

Touring Adjustments

negotiates "modular tour schedules"

two-week blocks with carbon-neutral travel offsets

publishes a Weverse series: "Parenthood in 7 Languages" 

= from hotel lobbies, baby strapped to his chest in a hanbok-style sling

FaceTimes you whenever he isn't there

"Tell them Appa’s dismantling patriarchal systems and mastering bottle sterilization."

Backstage Innovations

designs a "Portable Ecosystem" bassinet

= soundproof, air-purified, with a mini-library of global folktales

staff catch him debating naptime schedules with his manager

"Melatonin cycles vs. timezone optimization… we need a third axis for emotional bandwidth."

producers receive track notes like:

"Bridge too jarring... Babys stress spiked during playback. Revise."

Privacy Protocols (after birth)

codename: "Project Metamorphosis" (BTS group chat) + "Symbiosis" (public filings)

threatens paparazzi with "a TED Talk on the ethics of voyeurism" instead of diss tracks

updates IG bio: "Curator of small wonders." 

archives old posts

replacing them with abstract clay sculptures titled "The Weight of New Gravity."

BTS Support System

Jin’s Uncle Duties

hosts Kimchi nights

teaches the baby to grip cabbage while lecturing on Kantian ethics

"Ethics are like fermentation... both require patience and good bacteria."

Hobi’s Playdates

creates "Microbeat Workshops"

tiny tambourines

sock-covered maracas

films a tutorial

"Dancing Through Sleep Deprivation: A 7-Step Guide to Joyful Survival."

Yoongi’s Stealth Care

slides a USB into Namjoon’s studio

"Parenting Lo-fi: 24/7 Lullaby Beats to Overthink To."

secretly buys noise-cancelling headphones sized for infants

"For when Bangtan’s chaos is too iconic."

Taehyung’s Art Therapy

paints the nursery ceiling like the Van Gogh Museum

replaces stars with ARMY bombs

"Aesthetic and culturally relevant. Teach them young."

Jungkook’s Training

leaves a mini "Future Golden Maknae" workout plan

"0-3 mos: Grip strength (finger holds) 4-6 mos: Core stability (tummy time to Dynamite BPM)"

Hidden Stress Tells

over-researches "infant sleep regression in multilingual households" at 3 AM (as if their was a serious coreelation)

wears mismatched socks during diaper crises

quotes Thoreau during meltdowns

"Simplify, simplify… but how, Henry?!

🌿 Bonus Headcanons

family dog in 3...2...1...

Nicknames/Nonsense

calls the baby “Haewon” (sun and garden) as a placeholder

“It’s just… phonetically efficient!”

secretly tests names via Scrabble tiles

arranging letters into constellations

when they cling to his leg during a Live, he dubs them

“For their relentless grip on my existential crises.”

Late Nights

falls asleep annotating “The Art of Parenting in a Climate Crisis” 

margin notes: 

“How to explain melting glaciers to a toddler? Start with snow cones.”

bookmarks tabs: “Raising Anti-Capitalist Kids in a Late-Stage World” and “Is My Guilt Biodegradable?”

First Studio Visit

lets them “remix” his track by banging a wooden spoon on his awards

samples the chaos into an interlude called “Symbiosis: Noise & Nuance.”

plays it during a UNICEF speech

“This is the sound of hope refusing to be tempo-locked.”

Hidden Sentimentality

writes their milestones in the margins of his Walden copy

”First steps: 10/7. Proof that wilderness walks are innate.”

teaches them to say “Annyeonghaseyo” to his bonsai collection

“Respect all roots, human or not.”

secretly saves their crayon scribbles as NFT art titled “Post-Human Abstract Expressionism.”

note [06/05/25] : he wouldn't, I was not aware of the environmental impact of NFT's when writing this. I have to thank the person asking me about this in this NFT REQUEST

[damn this took me soooo long, but can I borrow him? for a week? pls... bc my so called father is buying milk since 2002]

[dioslesbianwife]

hihi! recently discovered your blog and am a huge fan! i scrolled through to try and see if you’ve already done this request so apologizes in advance if i missed it :)

can i get the Jojo’s with an author s/o? i personally write poems & short plays so i’d prefer it to be more like that kind of author but i’ve been dabbling in short stories so that works too!

reader joins the respective Jojo’s on their journeys and always has a notebook on hand to write down new things they experience, descriptions of specific places or even some stuff the group or the people they say face. for a bit of a silly take i could imagine reader in the middle of fighting someone and just being like “wait pause, that one liner was really cool and i want to write it down” (i feel like some of the people in jjba are arrogant enough to actually stop fighting so reader could write down something cool they say). and for a cute aspect, reader likes to give the Jojos sweet notes and/or lines of poetry. i imagine this kind of reader being pretty confident in their writing ability so they’re the type to openly hand their Jojo a cute poem without shame.

tysm <3

hiii, tyy! I haven't written this scenario before so no worries! i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <3333

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is in awe of your creativity. He genuinely respects writing and poetry as noble arts, the same way he reveres archaeology or history.

He tries to stay serious during fights, but if you yell out, “WAIT, that was such a good speech- hold still!!”, he’ll instinctively pause and say “Of course! Take your time!” while the enemy awkwardly waits.

You’ve written him long, beautiful letters before. You handed him one titled “To The Bravest Man I Know” and he keeps it folded in his pocket at all times.

He reads your poems with such reverence- his eyes get soft, and he holds each piece like it’s precious scripture.

“Your words are as powerful as your courage,” he says, kissing the back of your hand after reading one.

Sometimes you write little fables about the group’s journey, and Jonathan insists they’re worthy of publication someday.

Joseph Joestar

You’re constantly pulling out your notebook to write down his dumb quips and catchphrases and Joseph LOVES it.

“You’re writing down my best lines?? Baby, I LOVE you.”

During fights, you yell, “Hold on, say that again with more flair!!” and he absolutely obliges. He’ll even add finger guns and a wink.

You’ve given him little one-liners on scraps of paper like, “The curve of your smile rivals any metaphor I’ve ever conjured” and Joseph just MELTS.

“You’re dangerous with a pen, babe… I love it.”

He jokes about being your muse constantly. Will strike dramatic poses and ask, “Is this worthy of a poem yet?” while shirtless and covered in bruises.

But when he finds a soft poem you wrote about how he made you feel safe… he gets quiet. Keeps it hidden in his wallet.

Jotaro Kujo

He pretends not to care when you give him a handwritten haiku like

“Ocean-deep silence /

your hands, unshakable calm- 

still, your heart storms too”

But he goes red as hell and just grunts “Yare yare daze” while clutching the paper like it’s holy.

Will stand protectively over you as you scribble something down mid-fight.

“Tch… hurry up. They’re not even that tough anyway.”

You once wrote a dramatic villain monologue word-for-word and read it back in the voice. Jotaro was like: “That’s… disturbingly accurate.”

He secretly reads your notebooks when you’re asleep. You caught him once and he was mortified.

Will deadpan things like, “Your metaphors are excessive,” but the man literally saves every single note you write him.

Josuke Higashikata

Josuke is so proud to be the subject of your stories and poems. He’ll go around bragging:

“Did you know my s/o compared my hair to a river of molten obsidian? THAT’S how you know I look good.”

If you try to pause a fight to write something down, he’ll absolutely pose for you.

“Wait- babe, should I do a cool kick or like… the hair-flip combo? Which looks more poetic?”

LOVES getting little sticky notes from you in his lunchbox like,

“Every fist you throw blooms a poem across the sky ♡”

Once you wrote an entire limerick about how mad he gets when people insult his hair. He framed it.

He really respects your creative confidence and tries to make your day by being as inspiring and cool as possible.

Would 100% try to write something back for you, then give up halfway and just draw a badly doodled heart. ꨄ

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno reads your poems like they’re sacred texts. He has a whole little stash in his coat, folded neatly.

You once gave him a poem and he got very still, very soft.

“Your words… make me feel understood. Even the parts of myself I hide.”

He totally lets you pause during battle to jot something down- even helps hold your notebook open with a petal so it doesn’t flip pages in the wind.

If you start writing a villain’s speech, the villain will say, “You get it. You get the ARTISTRY.”

Giorno is just watching them both like 😐.

Gives you feedback like, “This line is evocative. The enjambment mimics breathlessness. It’s perfect.”

One day you write him a love letter as a Shakespearean sonnet. He keeps it with the arrowhead.

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne thinks it’s super cool that you’re a confident writer. She flirts by saying things like:

“Write something dirty about me, come on. Make it rhyme.”

You write her funny poems like:

“Steel bars and silk skin / even prison can’t contain / your hurricane kiss”

and she just stares at you like “Damn… marry me???”

She loves hearing your stories and imagines you’ll turn this whole insane journey into a novel someday.

If you pause in a fight, she’ll be like “HEY! Babe’s taking notes! SHUT UP!”

And everyone stops. Even the enemy.

Tries to write you poetry in return but it’s mostly chaotic metaphors like:

“You’re like a sexy hammer and I’m the unlucky nail.”

She keeps every love note you write inside her cell and will kill Gwess if she touches it.

Johnny Joestar

Johnny reads every one of your poems three times before responding. He’s so deeply affected but can’t express it well.

“I’m not good with words, but… when you write stuff like that… I feel like I’m not broken anymore.”

You’ll ride behind him on the horse, arms around him, writing notes in your little book mid-chase.

“Johnny- wait. That tumbleweed metaphor was so good. I need to get that down.”

“…Are you kidding me right now?”

He teases you for writing about things like the smell of dust or the sun-worn skin of drifters.

But secretly, he loves how you notice everything he doesn’t.

He’s not expressive, but one day, he quietly passes you a crumpled napkin with:

“You wrote poems about everyone else. I hope one day, you’ll write one just for me.”

(You already have. You just weren’t brave enough to show him yet.)

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

He’s fascinated by your writing- always looking over your shoulder and asking what certain words mean.

You’re the first person who’s ever described him in beautiful ways.

“You make me sound… better than I think I am,” he says, stunned.

You write him short love poems and he carries them everywhere.

When you pause during a fight, the enemy’s like “Wtf??” and Josuke just launches a bubble at them and says “Respect the writer.”

You write a list of sweet lines for him to read when he’s feeling low and title it “For The Man With Four Balls And One Big Heart.” (lol)

He tries to write you something back, and it’s weird and awkward, but the effort makes you cry a little.

Jodio Joestar

Thinks it’s cool that you’re confident in your writing and always scribbling in your notebook.

“That’s your Stand, huh? That pen? …No? Oh you just like…paid attention in English class…”

You’re the calm, poetic counterweight to his chaotic teen energy. It balances beautifully.

“You wrote me a what? A poem? No one’s ever done that before.”

He reads your sweet little notes at night in bed and feels something he can’t describe.

You once wrote: “Even when the world spins too fast, I’ll stay still beside you.”

It hit him so hard he nearly cried.

When you pause mid-fight to write something, he’ll dramatically pose next to the enemy like,

“You better say something cool, this is going in the BOOK.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Acrostic

Acrostic poem - a type of poem where the first letter of each line (or each paragraph) forms a hidden message or word.

A fun way to craft an ode to your beloved or a sneaky form of dissent—public resignations by disgruntled officials are a particularly popular place to deploy one—acrostic poetry can be very simple and spare, or take a more understated form in full verse.

The word “acrostic” comes from the French acrostiche, descended from the Ancient Greek phrase meaning “highest, or topmost verse.” Acrostics (like their cousin, the acronym) can also be highly useful mnemonic devices.

How to Write an Acrostic Poem

Unlike other forms of poetry, there are no rules when it comes to rhyme or meter for acrostics, so writing one can be a relaxing kind of word puzzle. You may find that you develop a naturally consistent rhythm or line length as you make your way through.

To write your own acrostic, break apart a single word, so that the individual letters become the initial letters of their own respective lines (or, if you like, the last letters of each line).

Let the word you chose serve as the theme of the poem; get inspired by nature, like in haiku, or use the name of your best friend to extol upon their virtues.

You can also craft an acrostic by listing out the letters of the alphabet in order, a variation called an abecedarius. (An abecedarian sounds easy enough, but the real trick comes when you reach x.)

Examples of Acrostic Poems

Acrostics were incredibly popular in medieval literature, where the hidden words were tucked in as tributes to a wealthy patron or prayers to a saint. They even appeared in the original Hebrew of The Old Testament, popping up in psalms and proverbs.

Classical literary examples of acrostics include this unnamed ode to an Elizabeth from Edgar Allan Poe, written around 1829 and only discovered after his death:

Elizabeth it is in vain you say "Love not"—thou sayest it in so sweet a way: In vain those words from thee or L.E.L. Zantippe's talents had enforced so well: Ah! if that language from thy heart arise, Breath it less gently forth—and veil thine eyes. Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried To cure his love—was cured of all beside— His follie—pride—and passion—for he died.

Lewis Carroll often wrote acrostics for the neighboring Liddell girls, Lorina, Alice, and Edith, like this one from Christmas of 1861:

Little maidens, when you look On this little story-book, Reading with attentive eye Its enticing history, Never think that hours of play Are your only HOLIDAY.

And that in a HOUSE of joy Lessons serve but to annoy: If in any HOUSE you find Children of a gentle mind, Each the others pleasing ever.

Each the others vexing never- Daily work and pastime daily In their order taking gaily- Then be very sure that they Have a life of HOLIDAY.

And in his famous book, Through the Looking-Glass, Carrol’s ending chapter "A Boat, Beneath A Sunny Sky" is also an acrostic, featuring the full name of his main character’s namesake: Alice Pleasance Liddell.

A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July - Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear - Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes. Children yet, the tale to hear, Eager eye and willing ear, Lovingly shall nestle near. In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream - Lingering in the golden gleam - Life, what is it but a dream?

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[archangeldyke-all]

something short and fluffy about making lunches for sevika

enjoy gays! love, angel :)

men and minors dni

i like to think she moves you into her apartment pretty early on in the relationship. (uhaul lesbian sevika the loml)

she doesn't work normal hours, usually coming home in the early hours of the morning and leaving in the late afternoon, so when you get up every morning (after about half an hour of convincing sevika to let you leave the bed) you have your mornings to yourself.

the two of you don't have time to cook that often, but you make sure to keep the cupboards and fridge stocked with snacks and deli meats for easy eats.

about a week into living with sev, you start tucking snack packs and granola bars into her cloak's pockets and satchel before you leave for work.

one night she mentions it casually, thanking you with a gentle kiss to your head for the chips you had hidden in her bag. you decided to step it up a notch after that.

it starts with paper bag lunches. peanut butter sandwiches and a piece of fruit, wrapped in wax paper and signed with a heart from you.

when you have time in the mornings, you write her a little note, something quick and simple. 'love u baby,' or 'u + me = <3.' it gives you a laugh to imagine sevika finding the notes while shes at work, getting flustered in front of silco or ran, trying to crumble up the note before they can see it.

but a few weeks later you're in her office waiting for her to finish some paperwork, and you see the little notes you've been packing her taped up behind her desk in a neat little row. (you crawl under her desk to give her some sloppy head after this particular discovery.)

after this you decide to take your lunches to the next level. you carve out a good 20 minutes in your morning routine to dedicate to her lunches.

you start baking. nothing serious, just quick treats you can pop in the oven in the morning. cookies, brownies, muffins. you always pack her two, in case she decides to share-- but you doubt she shares.

you start cutting her sandwiches into hearts like a lovesick fool.

your notes get a little longer. quick lists of the things you'd like to do to her once she gets home, sometimes innocent, sometimes not. little love letters, haikus, doodles of the two of you holding hands.

you buy increasingly ridiculous snacks at the store for her, chips with wild flavors, crackers in the shapes of various animals, bright candies and air puffed vegetable sticks. you switch out the napkins and old receipts you'd been writing her notes on out for some heart shaped sticky notes.

eventually you bite the bullet and buy her an actual lunch tin. you try to find something subtle, something that matches her vibe, but the closest you can find is a purple tin with black polka dots decorating it. she scoffs at the sight of it, but takes it with her to work every day and brings it home each night, empty besides a few crumbs.

the intimidating image of her stomping down the street with her usual scowl is somewhat obscured with the addition of the little lunch pail swinging along in her grip, but not enough for anyone to say anything to her.

you ask her one night if it embarrasses her-- tell her you can go back to using the paper bags. she pouts.

"fuck no. i like my lunch box. you got it for me." she says simply.

sometimes, instead of a note you'll snap a dirty polaroid and throw it in her pail. your cleavage, your ass, a shot of the matching set you're wearing under your work uniform. each time you do, sevika comes home with a dark look in her eye and fucks you for hours on end.

"you're such a fuckin' tease. had to work five more hours knowing you were at home wearing these. nearly quit so i could come home and get my hands on you sooner."

when she's having a particularly rough week, you'll roll her a hefty joint and pack it alongside some extra snacks for munchies. these nights, she comes home and drags you to the couch to cuddle for hours. she burrows under your shirt, breathing in the scent of your skin and mumbling about her day as you rub her back.

one day you come home from work to see the purple lunch pail still sitting on the counter. it breaks your heart to think of sevika going without her food and note, so you scoop it up and march down to the last drop to hand deliver it to her.

at this point, the bouncers recognize you, they move aside to let you in with a nod. you navigate through the rowdy crowd looking for your girlfriend. eventually you spot her in a heated conversation with a few of silco's goons, pinching the bridge of her nose and snarling. the man beside her flinches every time she moves. you smile.

you let her finish her little lecture before approaching her. the second her eyes meet yours, her face melts. the tension in her shoulders falls, the stress in her face disappears into a soft little smile. when her eyes catch the lunch box in your hands, her eyes go big and round.

she scoops you up into her arms, clinging onto you, burying her face into your neck. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." she mumbles. you giggle, kissing her hair.

she drags you to her office, forcing you to sit on her lap, alternating feeding herself and you bites of the food you packed her.

"you make a good housewife." she mumbles around a mouthful of food. you laugh.

"gotta be a wife for that." you snort, elbowing her. you expect the usual laugh and smack on your ass you get when teasing sevika about marriage, but instead you're met with silence. you look up at her.

"would you wanna be?" she asks, so soft and quiet you would've missed it if you weren't looking at her. you blink.

"sevika." she looks at you, her eyes sparkling. "you are not about to propose to me in your office." you command. a guilty little smile creeps up her lips. you raise your eyebrows.

"no, i guess i'm not." she says. you giggle, nervous and giddy.

"no, you're not." you confirm. she pouts. "'cause if you want me to say yes, you at least gotta get me some flowers. and you gotta do it somewhere you haven't disemboweled someone before."

"doesn't leave very many options open for me." she grumbles. you laugh.

"you'll figure it out." you say. "or you'll just have to wait 'til i propose to you." you tease.

"fine." she huffs, shoving the remainder of her sandwich in her mouth. "just as long as you keep making me lunches."

[thewandererh]

been a bit since i did anything cccclinic related. so here’s a good ol’ story summary!

cccclinic, or contemptual counterpart consciousness clinic, is the story about how Noa’s self-sabotaging behavior puts him in a 3-year long coma, and, now stuck in a body that won’t move, he endures the events of cccc as they take place inside his head during this period.

⚠️TW // medical themes, mentions of abuse, dehumanization

Noa falls ill at a train station, remembers being rushed to the hospital, and then everything goes dark. he wakes as a conscious cadaver on a cold operating table. vivisected. he can’t turn his head to view the peripheral. can’t breathe or speak. but he can oddly still express with his face. had he been paralyzed? was this some sort of sleep paralysis sequence?

perhaps it was. perhaps it wasn’t. but his demons arrive soon enough.

first there’s Soul (later Leo), the doctor. a reckless and confused individual that represents Noa’s self-sabatouge. with a strange fascination in the physical and mental workings of Noa’s body and mind. as if he wasn’t…human himself.

Soul uses Noa as a verbal diary. someone to rant to. someone to get his anger out on after tending to the others. wait, others? it tears Noa apart that he can’t respond in vocal kind. can’t ask questions. can’t feel…alive. Noa usually spends his days in silence, petrified at the complete mercy of his own Soul. wondering when he’ll return and what mood he’ll be in.

it slowly sinks in that this is his life now, dream or not. and no matter how hard he tries he can’t wake up.

does anyone miss him in the real world?

eventually, and it is a terrible shock, Noa learns that somehow his brain and heart are missing. and that one now belongs to “the Mind embodiment” (later Simon). Soul describes him as a snobbish restater of things Soul already knows. a needless anxiousness that gets quiet when its mad. and then tries to built itself up out of weak junk enough to rival Soul’s status. this Mind is battling a cancer, and no one is optimistic about it. Noa is terrified what that could mean for his body back in the real world.

Noa starts writing haikus in his head about his situation. he finds that the rhythm is the only way he can communicate, and mouths things out to himself. then he starts gathering his thoughts and asking Soul soundless questions—who doesn’t take it too fondly. Soul’s used to talking to corpse; an object. not a person who can respond. and suddenly this safe space for exerting his anger just aquired opinions.

and then Soul starts to change. it starts getting more noticeable every visit. he starts hiding himself behind layers of clothing. behind mental blockades and repetitive thinking. first he wore a different uniform. then thicker gloves. then forgetting about what he was even talking about. then expressing hate towards the idea of apologizing. eventually he’s so far from what Noa used to be that he’s hidden behind something akin to a hazmat-type wear. as if Noa was a disease or animal. and it hurts.

despite all this hate Soul constantly feels and expresses, Noa still sees himself in him. he sees a frail scared frame crushed under the weight of an appearance that tries to make him look larger than he is. that self-sabatouging behavior that never left either of them. and, despite the apathetic procedures and spite, Noa keeps pushing to communicate with Soul like a real human being. to pull him back. to beg. to cry. a part of him thinks that if he consoled himself, he could feel more alive.

with some prodding, Noa discovers he has a third counterpart called “the Heart embodiment.” Soul hates talking about him because he views him as nothing. an emotional mess to ignore and suppress. an it. Soul hisses out from behind a gas mask that this Heart is scared of him, and aims all its hate towards the logical Mind. he uses a tone that reveals how much he’s relishing this authority—as if Heart and Mind were guinea pigs in a cage. it only works to dehumanize both of them further in the frightened mind of Noa. but Noa keep pushing. perhaps now from a different angle.

Noa has a lot of time to think, to plan his words and wonder, but never stops being frightened. worst of all in this change Soul has exhibited, Noa’s started to recognize what he was running from. an ex. a verbally and physically abusive ex. someone who crossed his boundaries all the time, and he’d be constantly scrunching himself into smaller and smaller labelled boxes. to feel less lonely after moving out of his parents’ house. to feel like he was needed inside a work-life balance that never waited for him to catch his breath.

he’d felt like a dead man walking from the day he broke up with her. it didn’t fill him with confidence. and that’s what ran Noa into the ground. it quiet literally left him as a corpse. with no breath to say ‘I’m sorry.’ maybe if…maybe if he returned to her. then it’d all be ok. when he got out of this liminal clinical hell. she could hold him again.

Soul knew he wrestled with this idea, and blamed him for it. for all of this. for wherever they were, for whatever was happening, and who they were becoming. day by day Noa felt himself grow more cold. it felt like he was actually dying. under the torment of Soul, a self of his and the only other face he saw. he was scared of the familiarity in the guilt-tripping, yet Soul spoke out against returning to the arms of his ex. a hypocrite! but a glimmer of something beyond the self-sabotage. a want for…better. and Noa shared that.

Noa had parts of himself walking around outside of these walls, and he hadn’t even seen them. didn’t know what they looked like. what would an embodiment of his Mind look like? his Heart? did they even know about him?

the questions lie on his tongue, unanswered. and every day he starts growing colder. but his hope remains, and thats what keeps his here.

how long would it hold out?

and then something else opened the door.

something that wasn’t heaving and steaming with anger. something that didn’t struggle to walk.

Noa couldn’t turn his head. he hadn’t been able to move on his own since the day he got here. (how long had it even been?) and suddenly the fear of unknown he thought he’s overcome came flooding back.

approaching him was something upright. something white. cut EEG wires dangled from behind makeshift plague doctor wear that concealed the face, and a flowy white coat trailed behind a body gripping a mobile IV.

it came very close to examine the presumed dead, and caught sight of Noa’s wet staring eyes.

it stared back from behind the wear with an intelligent, scared gaze. like that of a cat lowering the arch in its back.

[ …Noa? ]

—to be continued—

this story has been one i’ve loved and connected with for a long time. it’s in the process of a rewrite and spice-up, and i’m excited to share it with everyone! i hope ya’ll enjoyed this post and i really want to thank you for reading 💛 it means a lot every time! i have many ideas for returning to these few, and am still in the process of researching for their story, so be patient with me! this is what i have for now. goodnight everyone! 🫡🫶✨

[haru-dipthong]

Fansub release + translation notes for Utena ep 24!

The second recap episode! As with the first, I noticed that the flashbacks mostly use alternate takes of the lines! There were a few spots that didn't, more than the first recap episode, but still, lots of original voice acting here!

Anthy: 小さな歯ぎしり。風に揺れるかずら橋みたい。 Nanami: いいえ、これは海辺のブランコがきしむ音。

Anthy: He's grinding his little teeth. It's like a rope bridge swaying in the wind. Nanami: No, it's more like a swing set, creaking by the seaside.

These lines are meant to be comically poetic. The original language used almost sounds like something you’d find in a haiku! Evocative and transporting in only a few words. The thing about translating is you need to match the original writers at their level, which I obviously cannot do, and most translators can’t either. Which means most translations are going to range from slightly worse writing than the original to EXTREMELY worse writing than the original. The best translators are ones who write their own good original work. Anyway, this is my best attempt at that kind of evocative haiku-style language in English!

Literal translation

Utena: We should stop. It’s not right. He’s written all his hidden feelings down here. Peeking into that kind of thing is… well… Nanami: You've basically read the whole thing, what do you care about his feelings? What about my feelings? Utena: About 49 kilos?

Final translation

Utena: We should stop. It’s not right. He’s written all his hidden feelings down here. Those feelings have weight. Nanami: You've basically read the whole thing, what do you care about his feelings? What about the weight of my feelings? Utena: About 49 kilos?

This is a pun on the word 思い. 思い means feelings, but it’s a homophone with 重い (heavy). Puns are often extremely hard to translate, but this one isn’t too bad, with “weight” able to mean emotional weight as well. But I did find it important to the natural flow of the dialogue to change one of Utena’s lines. They’re just elaborating further on why it’s not right to keep reading the diary, so it felt acceptable to do this substitution. If Nanami comes out of the blue talking about “the weight of my feelings” it’s going to sound weird, but if Utena mentions weight first, it sounds a lot more natural.

作戦その一

Plan A.

The direct translations for these words are:

作戦　strategy

その一　”the first”, implying part of a series.

But you can’t translate it like that! Not only does it sound ridiculous, but it’s not even an accurate translation. In fact, I think that if something sounds ridiculous (and the source material doesn’t), that makes it an inaccurate translation. The ohtori scripts translate this as “Operation the First” which is mind-boggling to me. その一 is used in most contexts just like how we in English use sequential alphabetical letters, and if you’re giving an alphabetical value to a “strategy” or “operation”, like, c’mon, the word you’re looking for here is “plan”!

Thanks as always to @dontbe-lasanya for their editing work on this project! Couldn't do this without you <3

Follow the blog for more episodes as they're released. The release schedule has slowed a little, so it's about one every 1.5 - 2 weeks. See here for every episode released so far:

[christopherisfoive]

Heyy ! The request is 9 + jeongin

Hi sophthejohnpork—welcome to StayGround Cafe! ☕️ Your very first brew is ready; may it taste like warm comfort with a splash of drama. Drop by anytime for refills, new flavors, or extra sprinkles of chaos—I’ve got the espresso machine humming for you.

Title: Hidden Hearts & Game-Night Confessions Includes: secret relationship • hallway kiss caught red-handed • friend-group interrogation (playful, not angsty) • charcuterie, Code Names & sangria chaos • fluffy, open-ended finish

You and Yang Jeongin have been each other’s secret for almost four months—not because the love is fragile, but because the friend-group is. The eight of you met freshman year in a dorm hallway crowded with cardboard boxes and cheap ramen; two years later, every Friday is still “Game-Night,” played in Minji’s living-room fortress of mismatched beanbags.

Opinions inside that room run hot—who ruined the group project, who ghosted whose situationship—and neither of you wanted your new romance thrown onto that bonfire before it finished kindling.

So you practiced covert intimacy.

Arcade tokens palmed from his hand to yours, contact hidden in neon glare.

Spotify blends labelled with fake usernames.

A single shared note-app file—“Grocery List”—that was actually date plans and cheesy haikus.

Sometimes the secrecy felt thrilling, like finding the one quiet aisle in a noisy store. Sometimes it felt silly, especially when Jeongin’s eyes softened in the glow of Mario Kart and you had to look away before the others noticed.

Tonight’s Game-Night theme is charcuterie and Code Names. The apartment smells like rosemary crackers and cheap sangria. Jeongin arrives late, hoodie half-zipped, cheeks pink from the October wind.

He heads straight for the kitchen, sneaks a marshmallow from the dessert tray, and mouth-sends you a heart across the counter. You pretend to roll your eyes and keep cutting cheese cubes—perfect cover, you think, until Hyunjin smirks as if he’s seen the whole exchange.

Minji claps for attention. “New house rule: no phones at the table; drop them in the bowl.” Everyone grumbles but obeys. You and Jeongin lock eyes—there goes the backup plan to text under the radar.

Teams form, cards shuffle, laughter spikes. The living room fills with inside jokes and competitive screeching. You’re on opposite sides to avoid suspicion, but that makes the pull between you worse: the way he drums fingers during your turn, the way you nearly say “babe” instead of “your clue is two.”

Halfway through round three, Jisung spills sangria onto the floor. Minji orders everyone to find towels; the chaos scatters people around the apartment. In the confusion you and Jeongin end up together in the hallway, giggles muffled by a linen closet door. He leans in, pecks your temple—quick, fizzy—and whispers, “Missed you.”

You kiss him properly, one arm braced against the closet shelf. The moment is harmless; three seconds, four, tops. But when you step back, Hyunjin stands at the hallway entryway, holding a roll of paper towels and the world’s most theatrical gasp.

His shout is gleeful betrayal: “Well, well, well!” Within heartbeats the entire friend-group crowds the hallway like spectators at a street performance. Marshmallow stickiness still dots Jeongin’s lips; your pulse thrashes in your ears.

Someone—probably Chan—fires the first question: “How long?”

Jeongin’s hand finds yours before you can tuck it away. “Officially since July. Unofficially since April when she beat my high score in Skeeball.”

Laughter bursts, half shock, half delight. Seungmin demands proof; Minji wants the meet-cute details; Woojin swears he “knew it” because you both started ordering the same bubble-tea topping. It’s a hurricane of voices, but none of them sound angry.

Still, you clear your throat. “We kept it quiet because… honestly, we liked having something that was just ours for a while.”

That lands. In the sudden hush, Jeongin squeezes your hand. “But we love you guys, too. So, surprise?”

Hyunjin, ever the chaos conductor, lifts his phone—he must have pocket-snatched it during the spill—snaps a picture of your interlaced fingers, and declares, “Group-chat update!” Chan slaps the phone down before the post can happen; privacy wins for once. Instead Minji herds everyone back to the coffee table, new rule announced: couples sit together for the lightning round.

Jeongin settles beside you on the rug, thigh pressed to yours in plain sight. The room feels warmer, as if the secret had been blocking airflow and someone finally cracked a window. Code Names resumes; clues fly; you and Jeongin share a grin whenever your teammate groans. At one point Seungmin deliberately gives the vaguest clue in history—“thing, five”—just to watch the two of you negotiate aloud and squirm.

Between turns, Jeongin leans close. “Rate the reveal?”

“Seven out of ten,” you whisper. “Could’ve done without the paparazzi entrance.”

He laughs. “Next time I’ll schedule the confession with catering and mood lighting.”

“You already had sangria and a linen closet. Peak romance.”

His grin softens into something gentler. Under the table, he traces tiny circles on your knuckles—the same pattern he uses when he falls asleep on the bus. And for the first time you don’t worry who sees. The love is out, messy and real, and the friend-group still stands. So does the thrill, blooming new at the edges: not secrecy this time, but possibility.

Minji clinks her glass for silence. “Final round—couples versus singles. Stakes: loser buys midnight hot-chocolate.”

Jeongin winks. “Ready to defend our honor, partner?”

You smile, slide a Code Names card his way. “Let’s spill more than sangria.”

And together you play: no secrets left to hide, only stories left to make.

The game-night chatter is still ringing in your ears when Jeongin steers you out into the cool street, fingers laced with yours. Laughter echoes from Minji’s balcony, but the city sidewalk feels like fresh air after hours of secret-turned-spotlight.

“Hyunjin’s staying at his studio, right?” Jeongin asks while unlocking his car. You nod—at least, that’s what you both remember from the group chat two days ago.

Fifteen minutes later you’re tumbling through the door of Jeongin’s apartment, shoes kicked off, adrenaline finally dipping into giggly exhaustion. He flicks on the kitchen light and pulls you in for a lazy forehead-to-forehead sway, murmuring, “We survived.”

You’re just about to suggest celebratory ramen when a low voice drifts from the hallway:

“Glad to hear it, lovebirds.”

Hyunjin rounds the corner in plaid pajama pants, toothbrush dangling from his mouth, one brow already halfway to outer space. You squeak. Jeongin actually yelps, stumbling back into the fridge.

“I—thought you were at the studio,” he stammers.

Hyunjin spits foam into a mug, wipes his mouth with regal nonchalance. “Was. Came home an hour ago. Congratulations on the worst hide-and-seek victory ever.” He eyes your intertwined hands, the flush still high on Jeongin’s cheeks. “And here I thought the hallway kiss reveal was spicy enough.”

Your mortification hits red-alert. Jeongin recovers first, clearing his throat. “Hyung, please don’t make it weird.”

Hyunjin grins like a cat presented with two canaries. “Weird? No. Entertaining? Absolutely.” He points the toothbrush at you. “Hope you like third-wheeling; my room’s AC is broken.”

You answer before Jeongin can sputter. “Hope you like sleep-talkers, because Jeongin recites grocery lists at 3 a.m.”

Jeongin groans. Hyunjin cackles. The tension dissolves into teasing jabs until Hyunjin waves a truce. “Fine, I’m just brushing my teeth. Carry on with your post-credits romance—but maybe keep it PG; these walls are thin.”

He disappears, footsteps fading down the hall. Jeongin turns to you, face the color of his stage blush. “I swear he wasn’t supposed to be here.”

You loop your arms around his neck, laughter bubbling. “Looks like the universe refuses to give us closed doors tonight.”

He kisses your forehead. “Then let’s just ignore the doors.” With a mock-dramatic spin he bows, offers his hand. “Kitchen ramen date?”

“Kitchen ramen date,” you confirm, linking fingers.

As the pot begins to simmer, you share stolen noodles, hushed jokes, and the quiet certainty that the secret is out, the roommate is home, and somehow everything is exactly right.

[elysianstarfall]

right before the confession

summary: they've known you for a while now, and it's finally time.

characters: xiao, kaedehara kazuha, shikanoin heizou

xiao doesn't care for mortals and their silly emotions. that is, until he meets you. suddenly, he's experiencing the very feelings he had deemed foolish and useless.

xiao arrives at the balcony of wangshu inn, but upon seeing you leaning on the railing with the most peaceful expression he's ever seen, he stays hidden. he watches you take in the crisp night air, the wind caressing your features. though he knows it's strange for him to think so, the thought crosses the adeptus's mind that you look very pretty. your eyelids are half closed, and the steady rhythm of your breath is enough to keep him in a trance. xiao stays silent, watching you for a few more minutes, trying to capture all of your beauty in one single snapshot in his memory. he's aware it's wrong of him, but who is he to disobey the pounding in his chest? then, he hears you whisper, "i wish xiao were here," and it's all he needs to step out of the shadows and finally tell you how he feels.

kazuha has always looked out for you, regardless of if you were accompanying him on a voyage at sea or simply taking a stroll in the outskirts of narukami island. the feelings developed so gradually that he isn't sure when he started thinking this way.

kazuha beams. the weather is especially good today: the sky is clear, and the wind is telling him there won't be a storm anytime soon. because of the wonderful weather, he's invited you to... well, he's not really sure himself. all kazuha knows is that he hasn't seen you in a while, and that has to change. he fidgets with the piece of paper in his hands. he's decided to reveal his feelings today, and to do that, he's written you a haiku. it's unlike kazuha to be restless, but as each second passes, he grows more and more nervous. when did he get so bold? was this actually a bad idea? would you reciprocate his feelings like he hoped? kazuha's mind is running wild, and he considers crumpling the paper and tossing it somewhere no one will ever find. maybe he could throw it in the sea the next time beidou invited him onto her ship. before he can follow through with anything, though, kazuha sees you in the distance, grinning widely and waving. this sight is enough to convince him. clutching the paper, he waves back and makes up his mind.

heizou, perceptive as ever, always picks up on the smallest of changes in your behavior. he's known about your growing feelings for him, but he could never quite pinpoint his own.

heizou has noticed the way you sneak glances at him and treat him just a little differently than you treat everyone else. he knows that everything--all the "evidence" in this "case"--points to you reciprocating his feelings, but he's never had the courage to confront you about it. it's weird and really out of character for him, and heizou's aware of this. he knows about his reputation as the flirty and confident ace detective, but even so, he can't bring himself to be honest with you. he swears his heart skips a beat when you look him in the eyes, and the confidence drains from his body as soon as you smile. finally, after weeks of being pestered by his colleagues at the detective agency and everyone around him, heizou spills everything he's been thinking. starting with exactly how he feels about you.

[poppliolover1]

Digimon Ghost Game liveblog: Fifth cour, AKA: The calm before the storm

Overall opinion: This cour puts in full spotlight some of the best body horror Ghost Game has to offer, yet at the same time reminding you that things have been set in motion, mostly thanks to the appearance of the BE. You can call it sudden but we all know that it's because the marketing team did not share anything about the Mega stages with the Ghost Game crew until the last moment, which in retrospect explains the middle portion of the show, because as we all know Toei and Bandai love to do some self sabotage whenever Digimon is doing great.

By the way, there's a hidden haiku in the commentary, try to find it

[moonpie016]

This'll be probably a long post because I have accumulated art again.

First of all, some random artwork.

---

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Mind design timeline, random doodles of the THDPH because I was bored, Heart (pre-ROE) trying to reassure Whole (which fails later), and HMSsonas trying to become "Whole". Or bond in a way.

---

Ok, now for the lengthy stuff. :]

Soo, since the toy symbolism of 'A human's Touch' was now in my brain, I thought, "what if I just made HMS toys?"

Then I went and thought more, I don't know whether this could be considered an AU or something. But it is still based upon Haiku and Hidden in the sand, as well as other songs that fit the narrative.

---

Whole/Harmonia and Berry (Love interest).

---

Mind, Heart, and Soul as plushies/toys.

---

Now I'm going to go on a full on ramble/ deep dive. Or whatever.

So, since it's shown in the animatic that Heart is mostly in control for the start of everything, he's happy, optimistic, affectionate, kind, sees the best in everything and tries to always see things in a wider lens.

Tries to do his best.

But after the trials of dealing with the ups and mostly downs of this new experience, he asks Mind to fill in his shoes, finding the whole thing tiring but still wanting and hoping for everything to go well.

And Mind obliges, trying to mimic Heart's personality, or at least seeing how Heart would react to certain feelings and actions. But it's more observant, seeing the nice and kind nature of this relationship dwindle. And the obvious pit in their vessel grow. Yet Lune pleads to stay. And the two just observe, cautious. Soon enough, it's too much for the emotional side to bear, but he pleads more to continue. Mind knows this isn't good, even Soul knows this isn't good, telling him that they need to leave. It will be good for them all.

Artemis refuses, fearing the thought of being alone. Trying to reason illogical things.

Berry sees through the unsure words of Whole that he isn't the same as he was in the beginning. He changed. Berry begins to leave... but not until they're met with a furious Harmonia.

Heart completely breaks, all the kindness and ever loving emotions turned into anger, yelling at Love interest through his tears.

Then, they're off.

Leaving a weeping Heart, a foggy confused Mind, a petty Soul, and a fearful Whole.

Cycling through this tiring and scary hole.

---

So yeah, that's the jist of this entire thing.

It's something.

I might compile a bunch of songs that fit with this narrative into a playlist. For fun.

Might ramble about this again.

But that's all for now, hope you enjoy. :]

---

[inkstainsonmysheets]

1. what is your favorite book genre?

Romance~~ and psychological thriller :p

2. who is your favorite book bf or gf?

Nina from Six of Crows and Jullian from Caraval

3. what is your favorite color?

Indigo!

4. what book got you into reading?

The Mystwick School of Musicraft

5. do you enjoy writing?

100% writing is AMAZING!! (Not that I ever finish whatever i write tho 😔)

6. if so what do you write?

From Haiku’s to Fanfiction. No in-between.

7. who is your favorite actor?

Anya Taylor-Joy!

8. favorite movie?

Freedom Writers and Hidden Figures!

9. favorite show?

Cardcaptor Sakura <3

10. hobbies?

Okay so, reading, writing, drawing, crocheting, violin-ing, crystal finding (?), talking, playing video games, watching movies/shows/yt pilots, I think that’s it?

answer at least one of these questions but you can answer however many you want as well:

11. your mbti?

ISTP :)

12. pjo cabin?

Cabin 18 Hebe

13. hogwart's house?

Slytherinnn

14. what is your personality like

No clue but I think a good indicator is that if you ask everyone I know they’d probably give you very similarly different answers

hehe u and musi have the same fav book gf lololol great minds think alike! ooohh istp haven't met enough of yall i'm an enfp ;)) ayeee slytherin-i'm a ravenclaw-but anyways here's ur job!!

perfect....another job application....!

hmm...we think your expertise could give us valuable insight underground. your position will be our resident magikal objects examiner. your close attention to details and the ability to stay on your toes will provide a great help. you will take care of all our mystical objects and figure out what they do....like the crystal that we found outside the bookshop with strange writings, in no known language. maybe your bf can help with the silver apples we found around town….!

[hungwy]

i also wrote up this (maybe not?) crazy theory that the 「横たう」 part in that first haiku is specifically chosen because the たう part of the verb would've probably stood out to his contemporary readers also as a noun. and there are a few really good nouns that were pronounced たう back then

佐渡に横多��� “heavy rains upon Sado”: very thematic because, you know, there's a rough sea happening in the line above. also calling the milky way a "rough sea" and "heavy rain" is sick

佐渡に横陶 “a fog beside Sado”: seems to fit with the physical appearance of the milky way as it rises against the island. also could also be a literal reference to sea- or island-fog. which is symbolically significant because at the time sado was an island for political exiles, i.e., hidden away

佐渡に横鳭 “The ibises at Sado”: crested ibises were widespread in basho's time but nowadays their only sanctuary is on sado island! they actually were extinct from japan for a while! anyway these birds are apparently known for being really annoying to catch so like. though sado is for political exiles. they are actually full of "ibises". "we're not really free but check it out we got our own island away from you idiots" type stuff. there's also apparently ibises in ancient japanese texts symbolizing something like a connection between earth and heaven but i couldnt find a good way to search the nihon shoki for that

[evepere3]

Ok and here’s the last one might do more this week who knows anyways here’s Darius and btw sadly it didn’t let me do another poem for Darius😭💔

Poem 1:

He walks where light is born anew,

In threads of gold and starlit hue.

A crownless king, a radiant flame,

And joy itself would speak his name.

His laughter melts the morning frost,

A warmth that finds what others lost.

With every glance, he lifts the gloom—

A heart that turns the grave to bloom.

Yet behind that glow, a secret gleams,

A soul more sharp than all it seems.

For though he shines with careless grace,

There’s fire hidden in his face.

He leads not through the weight of fear,

But draws you close, then keeps you near.

A golden boy, with snow-like skin,

Who makes you feel the world within.

And when he loves, he loves like spring—

With blooming skies and birds that sing.

A touch, a wink, a world made whole,

The prince who smiles—and steals your soul.

Haiku:

Warm as morning light—

his smile wraps around my soul,

love wears white and gold.

Picture used:

[instruth]

THE BLEAK HOUSE—bare, desolate, dreary.

EPISODE 10, SEASON 5

The Celestial Series continues…

——————————————————————

The Bleak House

A Short Introduction — by J. P. Lee

House of dark shadows

—What lives within

Depression and sorrows

What sins in the Inn

Enter—there’s no tomorrow

——-

The Past Remembers

And will return to find you

A Deliverance

——-

——————————————————————

A Bit Of History…

AN INN IN YORK

There is an inn in York

beyond the haunting woods

Silver table spoons and forks

tastes smack right to the mood

For all kinds of diners, or lovers

secluded, hidden, inexpensive

No take-away nor left overs

cozy, appropriately conducive

Ideal nest for secret chats in private

who will take you there, my turtle dove

Nightly shows assuredly passionate

feathers plucking, drunk to tipsy love

Open fields, still brooks, bedroom galore

milk a cow till explorations go crashed

When the fast horse can charge no more

no regrets, tangled embrace unabashed

No incident—till Mr Hyde comes to visit

sadistic thrills, masochists—not in arrears

Hurts and pains—pleasurable bits or tits

the Ripper Hans cuts organs for souvenirs

——-

A mission for six

Nothing that cannot be fixed

Today’s ancient sins

——-

(… more to come…)

©Johnny J P Lee

28 May 2025

HAIBUN: Gogyoshiren25 + 2 Haiku 5-7-5

Inn Image by courtesy of Andrew Tan