#not that they are Bad poems and not that i dislike them. i love my younger self and i don't delete them for that reason.

[trickstersaint]

where are you guys finding some of these poems in my notes lately lmao. be so honest who scrolled all the way back to the plain text poems

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, i. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. bangtan)

genre: angst

word count: 6.8k

summary: everything that begins also ends.

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join

warnings: suicide ideation, yoongi has deep feelings that he hasn't felt in a long time, sexual innuendos, yoongi has brief dirty thoughts, alcohol consumption, talks of alcohol, social anxiety and feelings of anxiety in general, jungkook has mint hair, covid and the pandemic, talking to a dead loved one, jealousy, envy, anger, crying, yoongi's bad shoulder.

note: welcome to the brand new yoongi series! i can't believe this baby is alive and ready for you to read. i struggled with this a lot, since it's written in a way i've never tried before. yoongi's pov, first person—like what? i thought this chapter was pretty shitty as i didn't feel comfortable writing in this style, but i pushed through, felt like it was meant to be—which is why i need tons of your validation. i was also kinda sad today, so please send your love. :( fyi, jungkook may be a huge part of the beginning of this story, but this is not steam pt 2. jungkook won't be present as much later on. no polyamory here. *spoiler* he just brought oc to yoongi and then he will lovingly go away, dw. :) enjoy this first chapter, i can't wait for many more! kisses.

side note: happy bday to us! mwah.

It was a bang, what happened in our group. 

A bomb that blew off in Jungkookie’s trembling hands when he shared the news. A decision that wasn’t really collectively discussed, not even privately with Namjoon—but an information that erupted among us as we sat in the lounge room of the venue, refreshing ourselves with snacks and drinks after the tough soundcheck we had. I had a bottle of Hennessy in my hands myself, about to pour myself some liquid courage in order to chase away the bitter ire I had swirling in my veins, but hearing his words made me forget about the nectar right away. 

He was bringing along a female friend for the tour. 

The ire turned sour in my bloodstream. 

He must’ve lost his mind. 

And what’s worse, I was the only one who looked at him as if he were a lunatic. The members squealed and hollered, clapping their hands, shouting different variations of words of, “Jungkookie got a girlfriend!” that made him blush so profusely that he wasn’t able to reciprocate any of our eye contact. 

Especially not mine. 

I was fuming, taking breaths that hurt my lungs. The bottle of liquid courage damn nearly broke, but I didn’t feel a thing. How could I—when amidst the ruckus and the soft smiles of our staff my feelings parted and melted into a crossroad that I began to stand in the middle of. 

One way led to selfishness, the other to the very polar opposite of it. 

Jungkook didn’t deal with the pandemic well. His skin was invariably lined with a certain sensitivity towards forlornness and when the mandate forced upon him a pressure of being abandoned—by us and by his long time flirt that was the driving force behind his creativity, besides Army themselves—he didn’t take it well. Crawled inside himself, even deeper within when our management canceled our Map of the Soul tour and we had to stay bricked up inside our homes for a full year. 

He was crestfallen and despondent, a decaying human. No girlfriend, no Army. No band members to slap his back, cook him food and distract his mind from the loneliness. 

Except for me. 

I was the one who made time for him. Who visited him, despite our management’s strong disliking for it. I went around them and did it without anyone’s knowledge but Jungkook’s. With a mask and health in perfect condition that I took care of more for him than for anyone else. Our relationship blossomed to highs that overgrew the bricked walls of our mandatory, artificial castle. A peach honeysuckle vine that we watched as much as we could while I wrote poems to him in my heart to alleviate his ache. It was spring and one, singular  hummingbird would fly in to listen to my words while inhaling the sweetened perfume of those pale orange flowers or the fragrance of the natural honey I would buy him and pour over the pancakes I would make for him. A comfort food, a symbol of our secret meetings. A butterfly would sit on the small creature’s back, just to look over its wings and be a witness to a mind’s mending, an afternoon’s tea mixed with dark liquor that would always fade to noraebang. 

The key to Jungkook’s heart. 

I don’t know how the little fella found us, but I wish his wings would sense us here. There’s no windows for him to look out of, but the craving in me for it to fly in and save the day, remind Jungkook who’s been here for him this whole time, blossoms in me just like those peach flowers. 

The castle has collapsed a tiny bit, but the honeysuckle remains untouched. 

Or at least I hope so. 

The other, non-selfish way is simple. Our work had been put off for so long and now that we’re able to pick it back up—in a way that isn’t as satisfactory as I’d want it to be, of course, for the only faces we’ll be seeing beyond the stage are the ones of camera lenses, not the ones belonging to our beautiful Army—there’s a distraction, an external person who could never understand the gravity of that pain we all went through. 

This was supposed to be a precious time shared between us. Another mending of some sort—as our job is the chambers of our hearts. 

And now as I look at her, I feel her playing with those strings of my heart like a harp. And I have that terrible feeling that she will open the doors to each chamber and ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for. 

In spite of the fact that she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a gut feeling that consumes me and I can’t do a thing about it, not even admit that it gives me the tiniest hint of a thrill that I’ve been craving for so long. 

Jungkook wasn’t the only one affected by the loneliness that came with the mandate. I gave my all to him and always walked out of his door empty—with no one to refill me. 

Performing again was supposed to do the job, but it seems as though she’s come in to hijack it.

Announcement, the ruffling of his hair and multitudes of teasing aside, we had an hour and half left until the beginning of our first show in Seoul. Jungkook left us, with cheeks as darkened as poppies in the summer, with a staff member and our bodyguard to pick her up at a designated meeting spot nearby. He hadn’t eaten all day—not before our dismal soundcheck and certainly not during our hair and makeup session. A ribbon of worry curled tightly in my gut that unfurled once he filled his plate with hotdogs after introducing her to us.

No shaking of hands, only Jungkook’s hand pointing at each member while his mouth gave life to their names. And she didn’t nod her head, not even once, as she moved to greet and smile at every face, which caused me to think that she either already knew of us, either due to our popularity or due to Jungkook’s stories—or both. 

But when it was my turn, her smile faltered.

I didn’t see much of her face, for she wore a black mask. And the only part of her features I was able to see spoke to me in a foreign language I was too pissed off to decipher.

Feline eyes. 

Round and wispy, so terribly cat-like that it cut through my heartstrings she played with and then abandoned. She held my gaze so unfathomably deeply and it wasn’t until she whisked her eyes away that I realized she, irrevocably, clutched time in her hands. It had stopped during that brief moment and resumed as if nothing happened. 

It unnerved me. 

As did my strange feelings as I took in the personality of her outer form. 

She wore a long silky dress, as black as her energy and her hair nearly akin to the length of that garment. Its hem brushed against her ankles with every movement she made and her feet were shod in a pair of heels that would puncture my heart if she so much as wished so. Over her shoulder hung a matching, leather purse and I noticed something that bruised, most peculiarly, my flesh. 

The clasp of her chain strap had a chubby Grookey Pokémon caged as a keychain. 

I found it as adorable as absolutely dangerous. Still do as my eyes can’t help but to watch it twirl. 

She’s a dangerous black cat, with her claws tucked in. And the entire night coils in her eyes, dressing her in innocence and a simultaneous seductiveness that make my lungs swell. 

A quintessence of beauty, she is.

After the introduction is over, Jungkook pulls out a chair for her beside him, sitting down and not wasting a second as he stuffs his mouth full with one of the hotdogs. The monkey bounces with her movement and it’s only now that my brain puts two and two together. The monster almost matches the minty tinge of Jungkook’s dyed hair with its plump, green body. 

None of them know that I match him, too. 

A leaf of the same plant swirls in my glass of whiskey. 

And the notion of iciness that it adds to the bitterness of the liquid turns to ash in my mouth as I take a sip. I, myself, sit on the armrest on the couch, alone—but not alone physically. Hobi rests, leisurely, next to me and she’s stolen glances at him more times than I like. Looked at him while completely avoiding the ring of protectiveness I’ve conjured around myself. 

She does good, but it spreads fire to the strangeness of my feelings that I can’t name. 

Is she throwing a rope around another one of the boys? Her claws itching to rise? 

Who’s next? 

I sigh as she laughs, softly, at something Namjoon says and it deepens my ire. Namjoon should’ve made order as the leader of our group. Should’ve said no to Jungkook at the unfolding of his news and keep the number of our group to seven. Especially when our time together is this precious. 

Not chatting her up and coaxing that wonderful sound out of her.  

“Can we get you anything to drink?” Namjoon asks, waving his hand in the direction of the alcohol station out far in the left corner of the lounge room. A mint plant mocks me as my eyes flick to it while I take another sip. The reason why it’s there in the first place is because Jimin likes his mojitos. 

He sips on it like it’s a Capri-Sun as I swallow the dark liquid after swirling it in my mouth for a moment, the bitterness doing nothing to stifle my ire. 

“No,” she says, feebly, brushing her fingers down the length of her ebony hair before tossing it over her shoulder, giving me a perfect look of one singular strand that has been dyed in the same pale green color that is suffused all though Jungkook’s hair. The shade, but darker, more sinister, imbues my blood with envy. It’s not that soft color, redolent of spring meadows, by any chance. It’s an ancient, vague memory of a forest once in full bloom that is now withering and dying at dusk. How long has he been seeing her that they reached this base? “I don’t drink hard liquor, but thank you.” 

Namjoon licks his lips, spreading his arms over the two empty chairs beside him. “Ah,” he laments, smiling at her, gently. “You don’t drink at all?” 

Jungkook lifts his head from his plate, laughing through his nose as he chews his food, his mouth forming into that bunny smile of his. He knows something I don’t and my green blood boils. 

The cat girl grins, her head twisted in Jungkook’s direction when she laughs, the skin under her chin rounding out, and my chest tightens in endearment at the sight of it. 

The cutest fucking double chin I ever have the eyes to see. 

Fuck. 

“Oh, she drinks,” Jungkook says, his words muffled due to his full cheeks, the food inside showing as he continues to be all smiles.

The cat girl pinches his arm, but owing to the thick fluffiness of his jumper, she doesn't reach skin, and therefore doesn't inflict the pain she intended. Jungkook pretends to moan in pain, anyway. My chest tightens again—this time for a beat longer. 

An oddity flies through my vision, slicing through my envy. 

Her claws sinking into my bare skin as I let her playfulness out—

I shake that picture out of my head as quickly as it arrives, running my fingers through my strands that had fallen in front of my eyes. The girl helps my effort by speaking, distracting me from the faint rush of lust that begins to course down my body. 

I can’t get hard. 

“Yeah, I only drink wine,” she reveals, coyness entwining around her tone, and she kneads her hands, struggling with her straight posture. 

Another distraction, one that softens, most peculiarly, my lust. 

If I were born with deaf ears, I would’ve known she was fighting through her shyness by one glance at her body language and I don’t blame her. 

She doesn’t have only seven pairs of eyes watching her. She’s the apple of fifteen more if I include our staff, sound engineers and our management. 

If I weren’t the person I was and if this wasn’t my job, I would have run the first chance I got. A certain admiration envelops my heart the more I study her toy with her fingers, soothingly, because of a reason that aches to admit. 

A reason far from plain. 

She’s the same as me. Uncomfortable by and disliking any public event with people involved, especially if you’re put in a position to talk. 

A bond forms and I can’t stop it. I can’t rip it apart even as I willfully try in my headspace to cut off that red string tied around my heart, leading to hers. I can’t because she eventually slouches, giving up, her spine protruding towards me through the open back of her dress, for she’s turned her body towards Namjoon, who sits at the head of the table, but I figure she did it in order to be closer to Jungkook to gain some comfort from him. The skin of her back is refulgent and tanned, scattered with little blemishes that connect, like constellations, to a night sky full of birthmarks, and that only add to her beauty.

Her whole back is filled with them, stirring my wonder. And, unknowingly, she let me see by sweeping her hair to one side. I wonder if Jungkook has seen them and appreciates them as much as I do—

Jungkook burps, obscenely loudly, setting down Hobi’s unfinished can of Sprite that he left on the table. I’m sure Hobi’s regretting making that mistake, but when I look at him, he’s smiling so widely that I can see his gums and I’m so astounded by that view that I’m thrown off my balance. 

Even more so, when I check the reactions of the other members and begin to feel shame descending down my own spine like cold sweat. Jimin has hearts thumping in his eyes, raising his hand in the girl cat’s direction, connecting with her as he says he loves a good bubbly. Taehyung, sitting on the direct opposite side of Jungkook by the table with his arms crossed and his face flushed intones that tonight after the show he will break his sobriety streak. Jin joins the table and flicks Taehyung’s forehead, tells him he doesn’t have to break anything while taking a huge bite of his banana. And Namjoon… he laughs, hands intertwined upon the back of his head. 

The whole table laughs, in fact.

Hobi does beside me, too.

I’m the only one who doesn’t, steeped in my uncertainty as I am. 

They all bask in comfort and gaiety. There’s no awkwardness, no unspoken words or silence that hangs heavily in the air. There’s no need for our hummingbird; no need to change directions, play pretend or act accordingly to the new situation because there’s absolutely nothing new about the atmosphere I find myself to be in. Everything is as if it were just the seven of us. 

Making jokes, lighthearted energy, connections lengthening and digging deep… 

I haven’t seen that, been a part of that in so long. 

I was wrong—and the shame, stemming from my wrong impression and unwarranted fear, washes out the envy from my blood. It stands, arm to arm, with my life-long emptiness and I bow my head down, licking my lips.

I wish to exit myself out of this room. 

I wish my heart wasn’t so sensitive. 

I wish— 

“It’s her birthday today and I bought so many bottles of champagne and wine,” Jungkook says, running his tongue over his teeth, and my head lifts; my heart enlarges before it shrinks, painfully, magnifying my shame until it grazes the flesh like a shard. It’s her birthday? “I’ll need your help, guys. We’re not celebrating here tonight. After the show, we’re going to my place.” 

It’s not peach honeysuckle that I’m thinking of. Not pancakes. Not our hummingbird and butterfly as the boys cheer all over again, wishing her happy birthday. 

It’s her that I’m thinking of. 

And how much I messed up. 

He brought her here to make her birthday special—to be with her on the day that carries her name, not to replace me.

It explains why she’s so magnificently dressed up; why she’s putting her feet through so much pain in those heels of hers. 

Just for one night. And I’ve managed to ruin it so majestically with my energy. No wonder she won’t look at me; no wonder her eyes won’t even sweep past me en route to Hobi’s chocolate fountain that his eyes emanate. 

Mine are nothing but death. I don’t blame the decline of her smile as her pools met it. A kitty cat that looked at the face of a skull. It symbolized the end of time and now I perceive that it epitomizes the end of me. 

The longer she’s present, the more I loosen the consuming negativity that I’ve lived for so long in compliance with—because now I’m soft. 

I’m gutted I made her feel awful to be here with my dark energy. 

“Jungkook, you should’ve told us that was the reason why you brought her along. We would have welcomed you with a happy birthday song,” Namjoon says, his palm lifted towards Jungkook and her while his other hand reminds behind his head. 

I can’t see her smile. Not even a hint of it in her eyes, for this time around she doesn’t turn around to steal a glance at Hobi. And I wish she would, with a strength that I’m in awe that I’m even possessing, because I find myself yearning to look at her face, amidst my softness. 

I misjudged her so terribly that the yearning doubles as she presses her hands against her cheeks amidst the overbearing attention. Becomes a need—a need to fix what I so unfairly have broken. 

And jealousy thunderstrikes in my system when Jungkook bumps his shoulder into hers, gently, his head tipped low, fixed in her direction as she struggles, once again, in her shyness. Straightens her spine just in time for Jungkook to curl a finger around her ear and take off her black mask. 

I’m so jealous everyone else gets to see her face fully that indignation supersedes my past ire and my softness and I’m quickly up on my feet, ready to walk out to breathe in some fresh air but something else steps into my plan. 

And it’s not her. 

It could never be her. 

Staffs members circle around us, guiding us out of the room to wire us up. But I stall my time, purposefully staying behind so I can look at her. I pretend to exercise my pain from my shoulder surgery by rolling it and making a face. Jungkook whispers something to her, her face pointed upwards as he stands before her while she remains sitting and I’m so bothered by it that it calls out the pain, incites it to come haunt me again. 

Everyone else had something to say to her—and yet I still haven’t, owing to my foolish mistake. Self-hatred fastens to my anger and I can’t breathe, my lack of knowing what to say to her when the time comes worsening my feelings. 

The boys leave the room and it’s just me and her. The staff member knows not to push me, but the pressure in her eyes is the driving force that takes my legs to the kitty girl. 

She sits so awfully forlornly in her chair, reminds me so much of Jungkook, her spine back to slouching, that marvelous pillar protruding again and my lungs do that thing they seem to automatically do whenever I see that part of her. 

She hears my footfalls as I approach her, but she doesn’t turn around. I ignore the way it makes me feel, the heaviness that comes with it, too. She, in most probability, thinks I’m walking out of this room without saying a word to her, but I’m not capable of that. 

Not anymore. 

I call out her name and, in surprise, she lifts her spine. Turns around, at last, the sleek fabric of the dress adding swiftness to the movement and I see her face. Her full mouth that compliments, most perfectly, her big feline eyes. And I think about how much her dark, sensual energy doesn’t mirror her personality, her coyness that hides inside until someone speaks to her. Her chin is so small that my fist would still be empty if I held it in the way my body asks for, but the look she gives me diminishes the lust that slowly begins to crawl again within me. 

It’s one that bears a different kind of shyness. It’s fear-induced respect and the hatred towards myself thickens. 

I don’t want her to feel this way, but I molded it in her. 

It’s my fault. 

It’s why I think twice before I tell my fingers no, for they ache to drum against the top edge of her chair in effort to linger in her proximity. I won’t encourage her discomfort when I yearn to wipe it clean. But when she inhales my prolonged silence and raises her thin brows in waiting, the tiniest sliver of a smile quivering on her lips, she doesn’t know it—but she somehow gives me the words I was lacking. 

“Did Jungkook tell you where to go?” I ask, softly, fearing her knees will turn away from me, her body language divulging to me the depth of her uneasiness around me. But she remains put, the pillows of her lips balancing at last as they stretch out in a small grin that I don’t deserve. 

Her slender nose crinkles. 

My heart forgets to beat.

“No, he told me to wait here and that Min-ji will take me to a room where I can watch you, guys, perform on the TV,” she says, her grin making it difficult for her to get the words out and she blushes. There must be some other, silent language shared between our bodies because I discover myself smiling, too, even though there’s nothing from her sentence that can possibly be the cause of it. 

The energy shifts, devastatingly, and heat clings to my skin, dispersing relief down my nerve endings. 

All while buzzing tingles chase it, hastily, grabbing it by the back of its shirt and consuming it. 

It’s strange, so terribly strange to be consumed by nervousness when I’ve been used to nothingness and emptiness for so long. 

And her eyes seem to grow bigger, despite the irrepressible dynamism of her fear. Is she gaining thrill out of it—to be staring at the face of breaking death like the small kitten she is and knowing it’s her power that influences me? 

Those eyes. If my ears weren’t bombarded by Hobi’s sound effects wafting down the hall and into the lounge room, mingling with the rise and fall of Jungkook’s voice as he warms it up, I swear I can hear the song of swallows in them. She’s a manifestation of a summer evening in her fear and nervousness, when those birds go mad in the tender blues and pinks of the sky—and I don’t know why I like it so much. Why I want to seize it in my hand and squeeze it. 

And she’s about to be all alone here with it while I go join the rest of my brothers. 

It’s something that doesn’t feel right. 

The staff member taps me on my back. Time is against me—why doesn’t she control it? I swivel behind me to catch her nodding her chin in the direction of the hall and I sigh, quietly. 

“Wait with her until Min-ji comes to get her, so she’s not alone here,” I tell her, then look down at the kitty girl again. 

Her raised brows create wrinkles on her forehead and once she sees that I’ve noticed, she relaxes, wetting her lips. Doesn't want me to see the surprise that comes from what she created in me. 

How cute. 

“Enjoy the show,” I murmur, moving my feet towards the exit. I gaze back at her, catch her lungs shuddering, and the words slip off my tongue before I scramble the courage to stop them. “And happy birthday.” 

Her blush reaches her neck and it’s all my vision consists of—even when I’m performing. 

Our interaction was too short. Too, too short. And my anger took on a new face. 

Hers. 

Every word I rapped as I stared into the camera, I felt it dissolving in me and transforming into a yearning so great that my verses gained new meaning. A yearning to see her again, talk to her, pinch that fear in my fingers and fling it away, make space for something in her that had the vigor to surprise me and make me soft again. And in my concentration, I didn’t have the fight in me to put a stop to it. I was doing my duty for the happiness of our Army and while I thought about her, it seemed right. Those two things went along and it spurred a pleasant feeling in me that was warmer than the adrenaline sticking to my inflamed body from all the performing. 

It didn’t hit me that she was watching me the whole time until my eyes regarded her unperturbed, flaccid posture in that white plastic chair, wading in my thoughts as I was. Her grin and the flecks of light in her eyes illuminate the room with orange, blazing fire. She’s barefoot, her heels kicked to the side, crooked, elegiac, yet still sensuous. Our show is being rerun on the TV and she’s watching it, transfixed, not realizing me and Jungkook were the first to come to her out of the group. 

A mental connection clicks in my brain at the sight of it. The peach blossoms of the honeysuckle, Jungkook and the genuine love I carry for him. It is that orange color—it’s a home that keeps it safe, the atmosphere that she exudes through her evident elation and I don’t really understand why I feel this way. 

I haven’t even known her for a day. 

And it’s forced to collapse when her pools don’t find mine, but Jungkook’s once we walk in, joining her. She holds up her hand in the air, curling down her middle and ring fingers in while the rest of her digits remain erect, small and slim as they are. Her nose crunches up in the way it did when our bodies spoke in that secret language. And when she laughs and the corners of her eyes crinkle, I realize she’s mimicking his gesture that he so often does on stage while showing off his Army tattoo. 

The finger-fucking gesture. 

Her blush beams on her face, even more so when she does a stroking movement with her curled fingers, and I can’t help but wonder, briefly, if that’s how she does it to herself when she’s all alone and the night sinks inside her skin to get a refill of her juices, only to smear it across the sky.

It’s what I need to focus on, so I don’t explode in anger that she ignores me. 

Jungkook cackles, sticking out his tongue and doing the gesture. I hide my face in my towel, getting rid of the sweat coating me—but it pours out of my pores again when I hear her giggle. 

And I need to leave, my imagination no longer strong enough to withstand the jealousy that poisons my blood all over again. 

I fling the towel out and away from me, not caring where it lands. 

I don’t meet any eyes as I walk out, keeping my sight fixed on the gray floor, streaked with black lines from the hundreds of wheels of carts that have drove down the hall and from all the sneakers that have walked past. I follow them and I don’t know where they take me until I’m suddenly face to face with the gaping night. 

And it’s not her. 

It’s my wound. 

No stars for a naked pupil to see. Merely an abounding canvas of blackness that stares back at me and questions me, questions my feelings when it knows full well how hard I’ve wept, many times, in its airy embrace. 

I sit against the wall, needing something solid to support me, the spaciousness of the roof enveloping me, but not tightly enough. There, but never close enough—always a safe distance apart, as if afraid of me. 

Everyone is so always fucking afraid of me. 

And when they lean in and graze my heart, they get repulsed by me. 

It’s an ouroboros that my life, like my legs, follows. Like a dog chasing its own tail—and it’s such a perfect comparison because I’ve always been alone, save for my brothers. Distracted for a while, then alone again. 

I’m weary of it, despite the fact my body tends to wait for the thrill of the attention, longs for it, even when I dislike it. I’m an oxymoron that won’t cease and I have to live with it. 

And I can’t exit out of it because I have millions of lives that depend on me, plus six more. 

I sigh and I think sucking on a cigarette, numbly, while I crawl on my knees through the forest of my thoughts and feelings would be a thing of perfection. But I can’t afford that. Not when we’re working again. Not when our boss lurks at every corner, has eyes everywhere. Jungkook has had his last hotdog for a while and I… 

I swathed my broken strings around someone he brought into my life. 

Through a little hole my brothers let me see by forcing her to sit through a conversation that was a pain for her. A moonlight stripe of her personality, encased by her social anxiety and shyness. One that has awakened my body to emotions it hasn’t felt the touch of in a long time. 

Why am I not fighting it? 

Why am I not coercing my soul into submission, into that abyss of emptiness and hostility? 

Why am I letting myself feel? 

She’s just a girl that he’s seeing. Many stories like these have been written before and we’ve read the lines, recognized words that limned us, only for the love interest to disappear into thin air after some time like she never existed. And she’d just be another character in his love chronicles, if her persona hadn’t spoken to me so much. 

If her body hadn’t spoken to me in a language no one knows—not even me. 

I can’t begin my sentences about her with ‘she’s just a girl’, because she isn’t. 

And I don’t understand how that’s come to be. 

It happened so quickly that I fear I wasn’t present enough. 

My wound tilts its head as my world does the same thing—slants on its axis. Coos at me, seeing me, seeing through me. Reminds me of what happened the last time I felt. 

The passing of my girlfriend gave me the gift of a gun to my hand—gave me the face of death that I’ve been carrying ever since because it nearly made my dream of time ending come true. And the kitty girl… standstill hangs off her fingers like a pearl necklace that’s too long. And I find myself wanting to wear it. Because it’s her decision, her consciousness, her will. 

Not mine. 

And it will bring me closer to my Sun-mi.

My wound begins to cry at the memory of her, raindrops pitter-pattering on the tin ridges of the rooftop and I cherish that she’s remembered and honored by such vastness, by such picturesqueness that I’ve always considered the night to be. And when the wind brushes along my fidgeting hands, I almost feel her touch all over again. 

Feel. 

I feel. 

And in my heart, I tell her. I sail to her, attaching myself to her again. Tell my Sun-mi that I am capable of feeling and that I don’t know how it came together in me. And I ask her, in utmost respect, to guide me on this unknown path. 

Because I am alone without her. Adrift, without rhyme and reason. No wits to me, no rationality, no clear perception of right and wrong. 

There’s only grayness to me. 

Maybe that’s why I, unknowingly, dyed my hair this color before the start of the tour. 

And it dawns on me, now that one chapter has closed in my life, that the passing of my Sun-mi a year and a half ago is the reason why I’ve clung to Jungkook so rigidly. Because I couldn’t spend my time on her, I spent it on Jungkook. Because I had all this love for her and I couldn’t give it to her, so I gave it to Jungkook. 

And the kitty girl has put a stop to it. 

Sun-mi graces me with the tepid, yet fuzzy impression that it’s good—that it was meant to happen. And I believe her. 

And with my belief, the rain thickens. 

A thunder rolls forward from a far-away corner of the canvas of the sky that I can’t see. And I dwell in the pool of the fountain of the love I still have for her and forever will continue to have. Kneel in it. Search for her. 

I imagine her. The button of her nose, the curl of her top lip whenever we ridiculed aegyo by doing it together and doing a good fucking job while at it. I imagine her small fist at her round cheek, but she connects my memories to the kitty girl. 

And she consumes me, wholly.

Sun-mi makes me imagine her doing a cat-like aegyo and as the corner of my mouth lifts, a particular fear devours my gut. 

A fear of closeness. 

A fear of doing something with her that I did with Sun-mi, even when she okays it in my spirit. 

A fear of reliving something so painful again. 

The rain inches towards me and I scurry to my feet, my hand trembling as I open the door to the staircase. And when I shut out the sound of hard rainfall and prevent the traumatic memories of my accident from slinking into my mind, it’s the only strength I have left. 

And I crumble. 

I mirror the rain I abhor so much. 

I sit on the top of the staircase and I sear my hands with my acid-suffused tears. Sob so devastatingly that I don’t recognize myself, drenching the denim fabric over my knees. And when I pull on my hair, numbness is all that I detect within me. 

Good. 

No feelings; only emptiness. 

I steel myself by taking a few deep breaths, letting the oxygen settle that deep in me. And I unattach myself from my Sun-mi, promise her I will get back to her soon. Go back to who I previously was before I scraped the skin of my knees raw on the hardened soil of my emotions and thoughts. 

Alone death. 

But Sun-mi doesn’t sail away back to heaven. Doesn’t let me go. She stomps her foot on the wet grass of my heart and I understand why. I asked her to guide me and what I didn’t know was that she would break the laws of heaven in order to do that. She wouldn’t whisper words of wisdom into the chambers of my heart. She would take my hand and show me wisdom, pointing me to the right decision. 

That is my Sun-mi. 

I let her because I need her. I bow to her and I would stoop to my stomach on this dirty, metal staircase floor to divulge my respect and gratitude to her if I didn’t hear a voice echoing up towards me. 

A familiar male voice calling out to me. 

Sun-mi pulls me to it and tingles vibrate down my legs as I fly through the stairs, skipping the bottom ones in order to get me faster to my brother. Sun-mi pumps blood into my heart, refreshing the grass she lays upon, and lightness descends upon my shoulders. 

Her work of art. 

Heaving, I meet Jungkook in the doorframe, glancing up at me, disappointment lidding his eyes. But I don’t fear, not when Sun-mi is with me. He opens the door wider for me to step through, but I remain fixed on my spot, panting, ringing piercing through my hearing sense. 

Too much adrenaline at once in a season of drought. My body is unable to catch up to the new acclimatization. 

“What’s going on?” I ask, my throat raw from my crying and I clear it, so there’s no evidence of my sensitivity. Sun-mi caresses the wall of my heart to soothe me and tears burn at the back of my eyes—from the simple fact that I can feel her. 

I’ve felt her only once before. A week after she died, I prayed to her, loudly, until I lost my voice. Begged her to come back to me. 

And she did. 

And it felt nice until it didn’t—so I made it my habit to attach and unattach myself because of my fragility. It is only a matter of time before the logic of your mind distinguishes a real person from a ghost. And the parting of that vulnerable mist, in the middle of your agony, isn’t for the faint-hearted. 

But Sun-mi, at this very moment, feels more real than she ever has. As if she truly was hidden in the rooms of my heart like a little doll, like a little angel that has the task from above to guide me. 

And because I need it, I’ll let more time pass through this transcendental connection. 

Jungkook flattens his lips, tightly, the tip of his tongue poking out to play with the thin metal pierced through his bottom lip. He’s changed back into the clothes he came in, minus the fluffy jacket. A black T-shirt, black pants and sneakers. It makes the green of his hair stand out—just like the wisp of the same color on that singular strand of the girl kitty’s hair. 

They have a tendency to match and shame boils in me, that Sun-mi is a witness to the jealousy I feel. I haven’t told her and I don’t know if I want to. In my momentary cowardice, I hope that she can sense it and validate it. 

But I gain nothing from her. 

Silence. 

One that Jungkook breaks. 

“Staff said that we have to wait until the storm passes.” 

My stomach sinks, the memory of the rainfall faint in my ears. “Good.” 

Jungkook pauses before he voices out the question that I can visibly see rising in him. Nibbles his bottom lip, the metal tilting to the side like my world. “Where did you go?” 

My breath shivers as I inhale, tasting my half-false words before I speak them. “I felt hot and I needed some fresh air.” 

I felt jealous that you made dirty innuendos with your friend, I don’t say. It led me to seek my dead girlfriend because I feel inclined to fraternize with that aforementioned friend. 

Jungkook frowns. “You went out in the rain?” 

I pass through the gap between his body and the doorframe, not able to stand the position I’ve been put in, anxiety prickling my fingertips. Jungkook lets the door shut behind him with a loud thud, following closely behind me until he falls in step beside me. 

“It felt refreshing until it didn’t,” I decide to mutter. Typical words of mine—I can’t stand them either. 

Sun-mi is still silent.

Maybe I should unattach myself, protect myself from further pain. It was a moment of weakness, anyways—

Jungkook rubs my shoulder, gently, the fixed one, barely touching me, but the gesture is there. And I grasp why I love him so much. 

His gentleness is everything to me. 

“The rain will stop,” he says and I take those words to heart, giving them the meaning that they are the wisdom I needed to hear, the wisdom I sought from my quiet Sun-mi. 

The rain will stop. 

The sensitivity will stop, too. 

And time will stop soon, one day. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[gemsofgreece]

Hi! What could be a good english version of The Iliad, like the most faithful translation of it? xx

Hello! I have read the Iliad only in the prototype and modern Greek renditions. So in order to answer this I started with a plain search on the web for the most famous English translations. I see Lattimore (1951) and Fagles (1990) being frequently recommended. I ended up finding however a fantastic post on Reddit by some good soul who decided to analyze in depth all the modern English translations. OP provides the first paragraph of most of these translations in order to back their commentary. As a result I was able to read them as well. So I will add the link to their post in the end of my answer but in the meantime I decided to also provide my own opinion alongside theirs. Granted, my evaluation is based only on the first paragraph but we know writers and translators strive for the best in the opening paragraph so hopefully my conclusions will be more or less safe. Let alone that the opening paragraph of the Iliad is famous, it’s the invocation of the Muse, so certainly the translators were trying their best. Please note I am only judging the translations for which OP provides the first paragraph.

Lattimore (1951)

Deviations counted: 3

Style: poetry

Other notes: A little difficult to read but there is something old-school about it I like. Despite its deviations, it tried to keep other elements most other translators failed to.

Reddit OP opinion: They did not like Lattimore, they think he’s overrated.

Fitzgerald (1974)

Deviations counted: 8

Style: poetry

Other notes: God forbid.

Reddit OP opinion: They like it but admit it’s not very faithful to Homer.

Hammond (1987)

Deviations counted: 3

Style: prose

Other notes: It sounds more humble than Lattimore’s pompous translation, however it is easy and readable without deviating much from the original.

Reddit OP opinion: We agree.

Fagles (1990)

Deviations counted: 7

Style: poetry

Other notes: Why is this one of the two most popular translations? If you have to pick one of the two all time classics, I definitely recommend Lattimore between the two. But my favourite so far remains Hammond.

Reddit OP opinion: They reject this for the same reasons as they did with Fitzgerald.

Murray & Wyatt (1999, latest revision, 1924, original)

Deviations counted: 7 (fewer in the original)

Style: prose

Other notes: OP provides the original version and some older revisions and they are significantly better than what you will likely find in stores now. The original is in an older style of English.

Reddit OP opinion: That was the point they were making: unnecessary revisions for the worse. They say the old version is out of copyright so maybe you can find that one.

Merrill (2007)

Deviations: 8

Style: poetry

Other notes: It’s poetic but not beautiful enough and certainly not very faithful to the original.

Reddit OP opinion: Somehow they seem to like the opening paragraph but then makes notes similar to mine regarding the rest of the poem - I’d argue it’s evident from the very beginning.

Kline (2009)

Deviations: 6 (7-1)

Style: prose

Other notes: I removed one penalty as a bonus for being the only one so far to translate the “for thus was the will of Zeus brought to fulfilment” line decently. Overall decent, the deviations aren’t too annoying.

Reddit OP opinion: They consider it average - not too good or too bad - and they say it is free to read online. Both they and I prefer Hammond still.

Verity (2010)

Deviations: 6

Style: prose pretending to be verse

Other notes: Interestingly, Verity deviates in easier lines and nails the ones nobody did.

Reddit OP opinion: They love this one.

McCrorie (2012)

Deviations: 5

Style: poetry

Other notes: He goes for an epic style and I do not dislike it. He uses unusual English versions of the characters names though (ie Akhilleus, Aides). I don’t mind but it could confuse you.

Reddit OP opinion: They say their rendition overall is inconsistent and claim some of their choices sound bad in English. I did not really find the examples they gave problematic or bad, but maybe it is because in Greek those sentences sound better and McCrorie was going for a Greek voice, which is why it did not feel jarring to me like to the OP. We disagree in this one. I still prefer Hammond though.

Green (2015)

Deviations: 4

Style: poetry

Other notes: It is pretty faithful but I can’t say I find anything impressive about it.

Reddit OP opinion: They love it.

Alexander (2015)

Deviations: 3

Style: poetry

Other notes: She gives a very loyal translation, however lacks a bit in style, it is a little plain for poetry.

Reddit OP opinion: They like it a lot.

Nurcombe (2020)

Deviations: 6

Style: poetry

Other notes: Nothing particular to remark.

Reddit OP opinion: They find it a loyal translation (which maybe it is, because the deviations are six yet not very significant) but think it’s lacking in its poetry. Maybe this is why I found it unremarkable.

Wilson (2023)

Deviations: 9

Style: poetry

Other notes: We Greeks have talked before about Wilson taking too many liberties and her translation of the first paragraph proves it once more. She adds stuff of her own in there.

Reddit OP opinion: They comment on the loose translation but overall like her style of poetry.

In conclusion, my opinion is:

If you want easy, very readable and accurate prose, pick Hammond.

If you want accuracy and one of the all time classics and don’t mind the occasionally challenging poetic read, pick Lattimore.

If your main concern is accuracy and can go for older, harder, more epic sounding prose, try to find the original Murray or at least one of the old revisions but skip the most recent ones.

If you don’t mind a hard poetic read, maybe even odd in English (as stated by the English reader) because it attempts to get close to the Greek poetic voice, even at a paradoxical occasional expense of word for word accuracy, give McCrorie a shot. I don’t know if this made any sense lol I mean that even when he is not extremely loyal word after word, there is a feel of attempted Greek voice throughout his text. In other words, if you want a wildcard, give it a shot. But it could be alienating to an English reader, I don’t know.

Having said all that, again, I could only judge from the first paragraph and some notes by the Reddit OP. I am adding now their in-depth analysis. OP’s favourite for fidelity and style was Green.

Of course, if someone here is fluent in Greek and well acquainted with the English translations, please help us out.

[theladyragnell]

oh my gosh as soon as I hit send I immediately thought of another tantalizing possibility if your spoons so permit - Z, for either Kel/Neal/Yuki or Kel/Neal? Any verse!

(This ended up being an alternate POV of a bit of playing out a lot of hypotheticals towards the end, so if you haven't read that one, this probably won't make much sense!)

The day before her Ordeal, Kel wrote a poem, and felt silly the whole time, her face flame-hot with a blush.

She didn’t think of herself as particularly brave. It was too much of a word for ballads and legends, when “stubborn” would do just as well. Still, sitting with scraps of paper half-covered in sums and half-covered in bad translations of bad Yamani, her heart pounded more than it ever had when she was getting ready to charge down a tilting lane. Neal would think it was funny and fitting that for her, poetry took more bravery than galloping full speed towards someone hoping to spear her with a large stick, but that thought didn’t help like it usually would. Neal was the reason it was hard.

It had been a jolt, late that summer, after everything, to receive a poem without a careful authorial attribution and, quite often, biographical information, something Neal had started providing when he’d realized she liked to know. He’d grown so good at finding poems that fit the two of them perfectly that it was the lack of attribution that had made her realize what it was, the gift he’d given her. She’d read the lines over and over again until she memorized them by accident, something she’d only realized when she woke in the morning thinking and more, until the paper covers my desk like snow.

She’d known, then. She’d thought maybe it was true before, but she knew then that Neal loved her, and that she loved him too. The way Dom talked, it sounded like Neal was a flirt, like he’d write poetry for anyone, like he’d been in love with every woman in the palace, and Kel had let herself believe it, but it wasn’t true. Whatever he wrote to those ladies, it wasn’t six lines that were a bit of an insult to the Yamani form they aped. It wasn’t an observation that spoke to years of friendship and care and the shaky excitement of something else added on.

So Kel was staring down her possible death, if the Chamber of the Ordeal took a dislike to her after all the years she’d spent daring it to do its worst, and the last thing she had to do was write a poem, and she couldn’t blame Neal for his poem being a bad version of the Yamani form because hers was going to be so much worse. She didn’t even have the excuse of not knowing Yamani.

One thing Neal had done right was to focus on one small image, her letters laid out on his desk, with a fresh one delivered to fill another gap. If the whole of a feeling was too much to express, sometimes a single image would do. Kel, who’d never been good at expressing her emotions, certainly couldn’t encompass everything she felt about Neal in six lines.

There were too many moments to choose between. Neal in the infirmary on the progress, arch and on the edge of flirting. Neal in a hallway in Persopolis, recommending her a poem in honest sympathy for a loss even her friends didn’t understand. A beach at Queenscove and a kiss she couldn’t in honor give him.

In the end, though, it came back to letters. To the way Neal listened to what she liked and sent better poems, and the way he gave her moments of lightness while she was with the Own, and the way he teased and teased but always seemed to know when to take her seriously. To the smiles Lord Raoul and Sir Graeme and Dom gave her in the days after a new letter arrived, and the way Lerant rolled his eyes when she smiled reflexively when he approached with a stack of papers, because the rustle sometimes meant a new letter was coming.

The last image was the one that caught her. She thought Yuki and Shinko would approve of the specificity of it, the way she noticed papers rustling behind her and didn’t care if they were letters or expense reports, because even the thought they might be letters was still a good one. They might also tease her a little for being prosaic even in poetry, but she didn’t mind that, especially since if she was lucky they would never know, and their opinions would remain theoretical.

Kel had hoped to spend her last day as a squire out in the forest with Peachblossom and Jump and the sparrows, to gain some solitude, but she ended up spending most of it at her desk, writing and rewriting the same six lines until they were good enough to go in the book beside Neal’s own poem, a response and a hope.

By spring, she would be back on the Scanran border. Horribly, Neal would likely be there too, if farther from the action. Whenever she thought of it, she had to avoid thinking about the last time she’d touched the Chamber door, before Third Company had gone north in the spring, about finding a field hospital sacked and raided, finding Neal speared through with no clever words left in him, just a mute appeal for help she couldn’t give him.

There was a winter first, though. Time enough to work through what they could be to each other, what promises they could make without courting heartbreak. Staring at the poems next to each other, his elegant handwriting next to her utilitarian script, the words different but the subjects the same, she couldn’t worry too much about the heartbreak. Everything else, maybe, but not that.

When the ink was dry, Kel gently shut the book where Neal had carefully written out all the poems she liked best, where there was still more room for another year of poems, but not much more than a year. They’d need a second volume, someday.

“Going out so close to time, Kel?” Raoul asked when he caught her in the corridor, book tucked under her arm.

Kel badly wanted to squirm. He’d been through the Ordeal once, though, and he’d seen her the morning of Joren’s. He had to know she would want to be prepared. “I know it’s last-minute. I just need to—leave this. With someone.”

His mouth quirked. He’d spotted the book, clearly, and it seemed like every member of Third Company had teased her about her ever-present poetry book in camp. She stored Neal’s letters between the pages, and had had to remove them so she didn’t give too much away. “With someone, of course,” he said. “Well, don’t let someone distract you for too long.”

Her face had to be flaming. She ducked her head. “I won’t, my lord. It’s just for safekeeping, that’s all.”

Raoul’s expression softened from teasing into concern. “You’ll get it back,” he said, more of a promise than he ought to be making.

“I just have to make sure he has it tonight,” said Kel, and went off down the hallway to be as brave as she possibly could.

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, could I request a love triangle with both Theon and Jon set in modern days? Fratboy!Theon (he's unsufurable and such dork! I can so imagine reader disliking him but he's cute when he wants to!) and Emo!Jon (he just gives off emo boy energy!!). Lots of teasing and rivalry (maybe? But definitely not needed) and maybe f!reader hooking up with both but separately.

Jon Snow/Theon Greyjoy*Hook ups

Pairing: jon x reader, theon x reader, past!jon x Ygritte

Word count: 3980

Warnings: secret hooking up, multiple partners, p in v sex, f! receiving oral, hickeys, praise, slight sub jon, cocky theon, smut 18+

Masterlist here

when you left for college, you were determined to break out of your shell. the first day was of course the toughest but luckily for you the dark-haired quiet kid beside you seemed equally on edge. you and Jon formed an instant friendship in freshman English and soon managed to develop a proper friendship group.

Jons half-brother Robb was also a freshman, so he was an obvious addition to the group. plus, you managed to make friends with a girl called Ygritte in your Ancient Histories class and whenever you all hung out, she would bring her friend Tormund along. the five of you were a close group all throughout freshman year and Jon and Ygritte even started dating at the end of freshman year.

you refused to admit to any of them that you were secretly a tiny bit completely and utterly jealous. you managed to keep your feelings at bay over the summer break but when you came back in your second year it was hard not to get angry seeing how happy they were. you knew it was neither of their faults, but you tried to keep it at bay and took the opportunity to expand your friendship group.

this was easy enough by tagging along wherever Robb went. he was such a sweetheart despite being such a party animal. he had been nicknamed across campus as the young wolf because of his string of girlfriends who all seemed to thank him when they got dumped. he was oddly charismatic when you thought of him, and Jon being related.

Jon was far shyer than Robb with his head often in a book or jotting lyrics and poems down in a notebook. he never left his dorm without headphones and majority of his music was all pre 2005 emo kid bangers. don’t get me wrong, you loved his music, but it was an acquired taste for sure. Ygritte however hadn’t acquired it, so it made it all the more frustrating for you when she never listened to the sweet songs, he sent her.

but you refused to let it keep you down so here you were at a Blackfyre Frat party standing with Robb who was introducing you to yet another friend of his. As he was telling Danerys that you were also into Taylor Swift you felt an arm suddenly grab over your shoulder and your neck snapped to the side to see its owner.

He had his other arm wrapped over Robbs shoulder and a beer bottle in hand, “and this is Theon,” Robb laughed as you shrugged him off as he kissed Robbs cheek, “aka a pain in my ass,”

“Thought you liked when I was in your ass,” Theon gasped as he finally removed himself from the young wolf. at times you had questioned if Robb was bi but now did not seem the time to ask as Theon held his hand out for you to shake, “And who do I owe the pleasure?”

you shook his hand lightly, trying your best not to grimace at the beer stench on his breath. you told him your name and quickly took your hand back, “I think im gonna get a drink,” you said, your eyes shooting to Dany who decided she also needed one. thank god for girls you thought.

“Cmon princess I don’t bite,” Theon joked but waved you and Dany off to slip into the crowds.

“He’s something alright,” you joked as you filled your cup with extra strong-smelling punch.

Dany laughed as she refilled her own drink, “He’s not as bad as he seems,” she said making your eyebrows scrunch in shock, “Nah seriously. its just this impression he puts on, I guess. I don’t really get it but alone he’s far more chill,”

“Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you said as you attempted to drink what tasted like straight vodka, “I don’t need him spilling beer down me,” you joked as you and Dany re-entered the crowd of people to dance.

you found your eyes wondering over to Theon a few times in the night. any time he caught you he sent a cheeky wink, and you rolled your eyes before turning to blush. maybe it was the alcohol or whatever issues high school had left you with, but Theon was kind of hot.

not in the Jon mysterious sensitive way but in the cocky I don’t give a fuck way. he was wearing his fraternity t-shirt which after Robb spilled his drink down revealed a surprisingly well toned body underneath. Dany seemed to notice your glances as she winked at you before demanding Robb and Theon come dance.

as Theon walked over you decided fuck it. Jon was taken and you were a woman with needs and even if he was a bit annoying Theon wad fit as fuck. you didn’t protest when they joined you to dance or run away when Theon would bump into you or spin you around the dance floor despite the music defiantly not being the spinning sort.

however eventually it was all becoming a bit too loud and a bit too fast. that plus the vodka was getting to you so without much warning you decided to duck out the dance floor and make your way to the kitchen where you stumbled upon Joffrey Lannister practically on top of Margaery Tyrell. you dipped your head as you headed for the back door and decided to just chill on the back steps for a few.

“You good bro?” you heard Theon’s concerned voice, but you didn’t need to turn as he moved to sit beside you on the step. he tried to hand you a cup, but you just looked at him in silent questioning, “Just water. promise,” he said reaching out his pinkie for you to link with your own.

you laughed as you made a pinkie promise with a near stranger before taking the cup, “Thanks man,” you said before almost downing the cup, “Sorry it just felt like really loud all of a sudden,”

“That’s cool,” Theon shrugged with a genuine smile that made your own lips curl up, “I just wanted to make sure nothing had happened. I know things like this aren’t always the easiest but its good you came,” he said as he knocked his knee into yours, “Even if you’re a terrible dancer,” he teased making you laugh and tease him right back.

you ended up sitting out there for the next hour before Dany eventually found you, wondering if you’d died or something. this was now your queue to leave since even Robb was too far gone to continue this night. “I’m gonna go get him into my bed then ill be back down to walk yous two home,” Theon said as Robb was slumped over his shoulder.

“Oh, you don’t have to- “you tried to say.

Theon cut you off, “Don’t worry love I’ll be two tics,” he said before he started to take Robb up the stairs, “Cmon buddy use those feet of yours,” you heard him mumble as you and Dany laughed at the state of Robb.

“See told you he’s not that bad,” she said, nudging you with her elbow.

you rolled your eyes at the blonde as you finished your drink, “Yeah, yeah. we’ll see,” and see you did. Theon had asked for your insta when you got to the dorms and somewhat shockingly to you didn’t try make a pass at you before he left. maybe he wasn’t that bad after all?

“Ugh that guy,” Jon groaned as you walked to class together, “I hate when Robb brings him round, he’s just so weird,”

“Some would say the same thing about you my goth little friend,” you said, poking at his arm making him swat it away.

“Not a goth,” he said, grabbing your hand to stop your attacks which for a moment almost made you blush, “Besides he always calls me an emo,” he said making you look at him like he said 2 + 2 = 5, “I’m not an emo. I just happen to have perfect taste,” all you did was snort as you finally reached English and took your seats.

for the month or so you spent a surprising amount of time dm-ing Theon. it started with him sending a couple memes to you having long conversations deep into the night about complete random topics. you also started actually going to parties once or twice a week with Theon and Robb much to Jons protest.

every time you told him he was welcome to come but he refused. instead, he would tell you all the reasons Theon annoyed him, and you could do better. it was ironic your old crush telling you to move on. the best thing was that you could finally see him and Ygritte around without wanting to vomit all over the place.

however, in a strange turn of events it was as soon as you got over Jon, or at least you thought, that he and Ygritte started having issues. Jon always refused to tell you what it was they fought about but you knew something was off. by now though you hung around with Dany, Theon, and Robb more than Ygritte, so you didn’t want to push. you and Jon still hung out as well of course but it was almost as if he was starting to ice you out.

you had talked to Theon about this on multiple occasions with him telling you that he was just being overly emo about things. you always defended Jon, but it was nice to know you weren’t crazy. then one night you got a text from Jon.

-she dumped me

this led to you and Jon locking yourself away in his dorm for a week as you helped him get over the breakup then a week of you dragging Jon out the dorms to see sunlight. you insisted he go out and enjoyed himself after allowing him to wallow for a time and soon a new friendship group was born.

you, Robb, Theon, Jon, and Dany hung out together at least three times a week, often all going to frat parties or drunken nights out. yes, even Jon would tag along to these parties, and you could tell he was enjoying it deep down. however, no matter what the two boys were always nipping at the other heels.

Theon would make fun of Jons clothes then Jon would quip back at his hair. when Jon poked fun at Theon’s grades Theon would make fun of Jons music taste. it was funny at times, frustrating at others, but overall, this was the most social Jon had been in months, so you weren’t going to complain.

something you hadn’t told Jon though, and had insisted that Theon couldn’t tell him either, was that you had secretly been hooking up with the Greyjoy without any of your friends knowing. he would text you late at night or you’d snap him when you were stressed. yes yes, the classic booty call things, you knew you were a cliché. but gods the sex was good.

you’d gotten a text from Theon that night and it didn’t take you long to get to his frat and sneak in through the backdoor. you slipped into Theon’s rooms unnoticed but as the door shut behind you you felt Theon press his chest into yours, “What took so long doll?” he grinned, his lips moving to kiss your jaw.

you laughed at the boy as your fingers travelled up to his hair, “Please you like when I keep you waiting,” you teased as you tugged lightly on his hair. you felt his lips move further down your neck, kissing softly at first but soon you felt him sucking gently on your skin, “You better not leave a mark,” you groaned, hating how you enjoyed it.

“I’ll think about it princess,” Theon said as his arms wrapped around your waist before tugging you over to the bed and pushing you down onto his sheets. he grabbed his collar, pulling his shirt over his head in a routine you had both practised down to perfection as you slipped your own top off.

Theon crawled over your body, his hands groping at your thighs and hips as his lips kissed the valley of your breasts. you moaned lightly as you felt him squeeze your hips and his hard on pressing into your thigh. “Now who’s making me wait,” you teased as you pulled Theon’s face up to yours, latching your lips together.

you knew each other’s rhythms, what they liked and where, his tongue slipped in with ease as your hands gripped his shoulders. meanwhile his were trailing up your body, squeezing your tits as he settled his legs between yours, grinding into you. you had of course changed into a cute little skirt when you saw the text so as your legs wrapped around his hips it left little to the imagination.

Theon hand slipped between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans with ease and slipping them and his boxers off without even breaking your lips. you moaned lightly when his fingers rubbed your clit over your panties and your kiss grew deeper when he began to push them to the side. Theon only broke the kiss to quickly slip a condom on, something you had always insisted on and he had never complained about.

you felt him line his tip up with your hole, pushing it in slowly at first, “You like that?” he mumbled against your lips with that cocky smirk. god it shouldn’t be that hot to be a prick. your legs tightened around his waist, pushing Theon deeper in which he gladly complied as he sunk his length fully in, “Fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts attempting to set a steady pace.

his hand found your clit again, rubbing circles over it as your hands scratched gently down his back making him shiver. Theon’s lips fell from yours, moving to gently kiss down your jaw and neck before his head fell into your shoulder, his breathing growing heavy as you knew he was close to the edge.

with a final thrust you felt his body tighten for a moment before sinking into yours. you paused for a moment, letting Theon catch his breath. he pulled away for a moment, discarding the condom and kneeling over your thighs before he looked back down at you with a cocky grin, “Your turn now,” he said, and you laughed as he made his way down south.

by the end of the night, you were both hot and sweaty and both in a pair of Theon’s sweatpants. you were able to slip out and back to yours for a quick change of clothes before class the next morning though Jon shot you a questioning look when you had to practically run to class.

as the lecturer droned on and on you saw your phone light up and when you looked you saw a text from Jon. you unlocked your phone under the table, glancing over to see Jon was doing the same, as you opened the message.

-u wanna do something tonight?

-ye sure. want me to text everyone else?

you sent back and when you glanced at Jon you saw a faint blush on his cheeks. a few moments later another message came.

-was thinking it could be a just us thing. like old times

you didn’t even realise you were smiling when you saw the message, but Jon did. and gods did it make his legs go weak especially when you text back.

-great idea. movie night?

-only if u don’t hog the snacks

-no promises

after a long day of classes, a movie night was just what you needed especially since you knew it wasn’t hard to get Jon to let you pick the movie. when you arrived at his dorm, he was setting up a projector his dad had got him and you noticed his roommate, Tormund was out. “Did you kick Tormund to the curb for me?” you joked when you walked in through the open door.

Jon grinned as he stopped fiddling with his laptop cables and the projector lit up the room, “He didn’t mind,” he said as he took the bag of snacks out of your hand, adding them to the pile he had set up on his bed. “You ready for the ultimate movie experience?”

“Always,” you grinned as you jumped down onto his bed, kicking off your shoes and making yourself comfy. you didn’t catch the way Jon smiled at you as he watched this or how when he shut the door, he locked it also.

Jon flicked off the lights before returning to the bed, sitting beside you as he brought up Netflix on his laptop. before you could even start your spiel about how legally blonde the best film was and why you just had to watch it, he was handing you the laptop. you’d thought your crush had died but when you felt his fingers brush yours as you took the laptop you were grateful for the dimmed lighting to hide your blush.

Jon watched the movie without complaint, which honestly shocked you, especially when he even offered you some of his pringles. now that was odd. you were so into the movie you didn’t even realise you were leaning onto his shoulder till you felt his arm move to rest around your waist. when you glanced at Jon he cleared his throat, a blush spreading across his cheeks making you smile before you turned your attention back to Elle strutting her stuff.

by the end credits your body was fully rested against Jons, your snacks were gone, and his head was leant on top of yours. “See, told you it was a masterpiece,” you teased.

Jon chuckled lightly as you moved your head off his shoulder, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move his arm, “It was something alright,”

“Theres a second one,”

“Eh I think one movie was enough for tonight,” Jon said as he closed Netflix with his spare hand. the room was still pretty dark but the light from the projector lit it up just enough to notice the cute smile toying on his lips.

“So whatcha wanna do then?” you said, moving to face him without realising how close your faces were, “You can’t kick me out already. its only nine,” you said but Jon didn’t say anything back.

you just smiled, waiting for him to say something and wondering if you had accidentally broken the boy somehow when Jon suddenly leaned forward. he kissed you. like actually kissed you. on the mouth. it only lasted for a second and you were too stunned to react as he pulled back, “I’m sorry- “Jon tried to say, moving his arm but you cut him off by grabbing his jaw lightly making him face you.

Jon grew silent again as you studied his face for a moment before leaning in. this kiss was far softer than before and this time Jon didn’t run away. his lips moved against yours gently at first, almost as if you were made of glass, but with added courage now Jon grew bolder, his hand squeezing your waist gently.

you took your queue, if not maybe surprising Jon a little, as you moved to straddle his lap. however, it only took a moment for him to catch up as his hands moved to rest gently on your hips. “You can touch me you know,” you mumbled into the kiss, “I won’t break,” you teased as your own hands trailed down his chest.

much to your surprise since he always wore baggy black clothes, but you could feel how toned he was through his shirt. you couldn’t resist slipping your hands under his t-shirt, gently tracing your hands up his skin making him shiver.

you were breathless, pulling away for air but Jon wasn’t done. his lips soon fell to your neck, kissing down your skin gently as his fingers traced the hem of your waistband of your sweats. you moaned lightly when you felt him sucking soft hickeys across your collarbones but this time you didn’t mind the marks.

Jon seemed encouraged by your noises as his hands slipped under the fabric of your sweats as you felt his groan against your skin when he realised you were wearing something lacy. you bit your lip gently as he trailed hickeys down your chest, his hands squeezing your hips and ass. you decided to be bolder, if that was possible, and grind down onto his lap.

you could fell his boner through the fabric and heard Jons soft moans as you continued your movements. “Please,” he moaned against your skin, “I want you,” he begged.

“All you had to do was ask,” you teased as you pried yourself from his grip. the way Jon watched with awe as you stripped your t-shirt off made you want him ever more. “Take that off,” you said, pointing to his own top to which he happily complied.

you turned away for a moment, slipping your sweats down your legs to give Jon a proper show since he was determined to enjoy it. you heard him curse under his breath as you kicked away the fabric and when you turned around, he was finally tugging his jeans off leaving him in just his boxers. “Fuck,” Jon mumbled, his eyes glued to your frame for several moments before finally flickering to your eyes, “You’re perfect,”

you giggled a little, so unlike yourself, as you leaned down to kiss Jon again. it was slow and deep with your hands in his hair. you expected to be the one leading things, but Jons hand found its way to your hips and soon you were laying on the bed under neath Jon who was trailing open mouth kisses down your body, praising it all the way down.

your breathing hitched when he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit, your hand instinctually reaching for his hair as he slid your panties down your legs. within moments he was kissing your cunt soft as he moved your legs over his shoulders. you moaned when you felt his tongue against your clit, applying more and more pressure as he went till, he found your sweet spot.

you didn’t care how loud your moan was when you felt his fingers teasing your hole. you bit your lip as he slowly slipped them in, stretching you out before he began to gently curl his fingers. you could feel your orgasm already approaching as Jon began to suck on your clit gently making your legs instinctively wrap around his head.

it only seemed to spur him on more and it wasn’t long till you felt your orgasm threatening to spill. “Don’t stop,” you whined, your hand gripping his hair for dear life, “Fuck,” you gasped as your body tightened and your orgasm crashed down like a tsunami.

you could feel your legs twitch, but Jon wasn’t stopping. his seemingly magic tongue kept going till he was sure you were fully finished and when he pulled away, his face wet with your juices, he placed a soft kiss to your thigh. “You are amazing,” he said, kissing up your body with each word.

you were panting for air but still wanting more and Jon had no intentions of stopping there. by the end of the night, you had come five times, weren’t sure if you’d ever walk again, and you were both naked and sweaty under his sheets. you didn’t know how you’d explain these hickeys to Theon next time you saw him but god where they worth it.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics

[bubble-leaves]

Hi hello I absolutely love your work!!! It makes me so happy to see you post every time, pls accept ring 🥺👉👈

Because I'm a freak for Jel, and I've read and reread all the headcanons for him, may I please request poly Jel and Hassian? They're my two favourites they're just both so anxious but so full of love 🥰🥰🥰🥴🥴🥴

Hi hello to you too, thank you so much!! I love the picture you sent, it made me laugh lol. And of course, here you go!

Jel and Hassian . . .

- are complete opposites when it comes to hobbies and interests, but they also share crucial similarities: their sassy attitudes, and their undying love for you

- both get along well, aside from the occasional bickering

- are both all over you when you’re finally alone with them

- are both eloquently spoken, so every time they express their feelings for you, it sounds like beautiful love poems

- are introverts; bringing them together through their love for you has made them close friends, and now they have someone else to stick by at parties aside from their lover

- are both soft, affectionate lovers . . . that can be scandalous and teasing if they want to be, to you

- Jel will not let Hassian come into his shop with you unless Hassian cleans the soles of his boots

- You and Hassian will be the cooks due to Jel’s cooking being abysmal; Jel highly appreciates it, although he is embarrassed

- Hassian finds it easy to talk to Jel about you due to their use of formal language; he doesn’t feel jealous at all when Jel explains why you drive him mad with love, too

- Jel absolutely hates when Hassian brings home hunted animals; he chastises Hassian every time, (nauseously) telling him to skin the creature outside, not in their love’s house

- Hassian lets Tau up on your furniture, like your couch and bed, and lets him play in the house; Jel dislikes this greatly, but tolerates it if you don’t mind (if you approve, Hassian will shove that in Jel’s face)

- Hassian chastises both you and Jel if you have poor sleep schedules or skip meals; he values your health, as his lover, but he also values Jel’s, his now closest friend

- Jel often asks if he can sew up pieces of clothing you happened to damage during an adventure; he offers the same services to Hassian, who needs his armor patched every few days

- Jel likes to snuggle you, Hassian likes to snuggle you; you get to keep the middle of the bed!

- Hassian prefers, though, if you're turned toward him in bed, so you can rest your head in the crook of his neck; Jel doesn't mind, as he actually adores spooning you and having full reign over your figure

- Jel and Hassian are bad influences on each other when it comes to you; if one starts acting flirtatious and sly, the other will too. If you're easily flustered, oh dear—they're going to have a ball with you

[willameena]

13 books

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

this is such a cute idea! thanks for the tag, @magnusbae <3 all your recs sound awesome!

Last book I read: the last one I completed was Machines Like Me, by Ian McEwan. I'm on the last chapter of 5 Tuesdays in Winter, by Lily King, right now, and it's excellent. Machines Like Me had a cool premise, but I thought it really fell flat and got bogged down in the hypotheticals of 80s British politics, which I don't know much about to begin with, and while I thought it was cool that it explored what could have been if Margaret Thatcher weren't elected PM, it seemed like the book could have just done without that entire subplot, as the premise was advanced AI. Anyways.

A book I recommend: Fight Club, by Chuck Palahniuk. A great movie, of course, but I love the book even more and my best friend recently started reading, at my recommendation so I'm very excited to hear her thoughts when she's done. I want to do a reread myself!

A book that I couldn't put down: Unfortunately, I don't have the amount of free time to be able to sit down and read uninterrupted. I haven't read an entire book in one day in a very long time, although I devoured them daily as a kid. In a less literal sense, Revenge of the Sith and Labyrinth of Evil. I have those downloaded to my phone, in the Kindle app, and I couldn't stop reading them. Having it on my phone made that easier to achieve, haha.

A book I've read twice or more: Again, I haven't done a reread of any books in a little while :( I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo a few times though, pre-kids, when I had more time. Now, I prefer to move onto something new. It's one of my favorites, and the trilogy is so excellent.

A book on my TBR: I have quite a few that purchased from my favorite used book store that I haven't gotten to yet! Dune is one of them, and I'm excited to start that, although I think I'll read something shorter when I finish the book I'm currently on.

A book I've put down: I don't often put down a book I've started, just because I'll either hold out hope that it's going to get better, or I'll want to be able to explain in detail why I disliked it, haha. Sometimes, I'll put one down and return to it if I feel like it is too heavy for me at the time. I did try and read Lord of the Rings when I was a kid, and I just couldn't get into it... I'm hoping this doesn't make me any enemies lol

A book on my wish list: I really want a paper copy of Revenge of the Sith! I'd like paper copies of a few other Star Wars books that I have on the Kindle app, but that one's top of the list.

A favorite book from childhood: I was such an avid reader as a child! I didn't go anywhere without a book, or two. I loved A Wrinkle in Time, the Inkheart series, The Chronicles of Narnia, Roald Dahl's books, a book called Mandy, which was written by Julie Andrews. I loved Harry Potter, but everything that's happened has left a bad taste in my mouth.

A book you would give to a friend: The Almost Moon, by Alice Sebold, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Bell Jar, if they hadn't read any of those yet.

a book of poetry or lyrics that you own: If They Come for Us, by Fatimah Asghar, I can't recommend this enough!! It is absolutely gorgeous and very powerful. I believe they have also written a novel, which I haven't read yet. Where the Sidewalk Ends, and Falling up, by Shel Silverstein, which are my old copies from childhood and very worn and treasured <3 I have a book of Rupi Kaur poems as well.

a non-fiction book you own: quite a few! Spiritual Midwifery, Birth Without Fear, a couple books about Kurt Cobain, Anthony Keidis' memoir, Scar Tissue, a multitude of parenting books, a half marathon guide book, and some books in the "Highly Sensitive Person" series, which I really recommend for those who consider themselves a highy sensitive person

What are you currently reading: I've got 1 chapter left of 5 Tuesdays in Winter, which is a collection of short stories and has been a beautiful read. I'm also working through "The Highly Sensitive Parent" and "Half Marathon, You Can do it!" which sounds ridiculously corny, but is actually really informative and helpful, because I'm training for a half marathon

What are you planning on reading next: I think either Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk or The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, by Mark Haddon. My best friend bought it for me and said I would love it, so I'm guessing I'm gonna love it!

Soooo this was incredibly long and if anyone has read all of this, wow, haha. Thanks again for the tag @magnusbae this was super fun!

No pressure tagging: @cottonraincoat @sendpseuds @piecesofeden11 @wandering-not-lost04 @dragon-on-ice

@kenobster

@lesbianakins @tideswept @unspuncreature @sky-kenobye @betweensaintsandmonsters

@hausofroxann @kato-neimoidia

Also, a shelfie? A shelf selfie? A bookshelf picture? That's so adorable. I recently put up these shelves and while they don't hold all of my books, I really enjoy them and I am 100% taking the opportunity to show them off

[cringefaecompilation]

for character questions: veth, jester, caduceus

veth

First impression

also found cr through an animatic and the guy who made it made nott/veth curvy and sexy, and that disappointed me because i thought it was her canon design. i'm so happy it was just that guy being weird about women.

Impression now

genuinely my favorite pc sam has ever made. knocked scanlan right off his perch

Favorite moment

the scene where she's in the invulnerable vagrant with luc and yeza is so fucking cute and heartwarming every time.

Idea for a story

i would put this in the headcanon section but i'm saving it for another thing. god it would be so funny if at the end of this mn interlude after they kill the weavemind veth says "hey so um... we're having another kid..." and the rest of the nein LOSES IT

Unpopular opinion

i don't think there's anything inherently bad with widobrave as a ship. i personally prefer vethyeza just because if a guy ever said to me "i don't want a poem, i want a wife" with the same tone that yeza did i'd love him for eternity, but widobrave being treated like it's a morally wrong ship because it'd turn caleb into a homewrecker or whatever feels odd to me.

Favorite relationship

her and jester and her and caleb! also honorary nod to the fjord/nott love-hate relationship

Favorite headcanon

veth also has picked up on some zemnian while traveling with caleb!

jester

First impression

i was worried i would dislike her. something about her seemed disingenuous compared to the rest of the nein and i guess i was worried her kindness and sweetness would be revealed to be a front or she would stick out like a sore thumb.

Impression now

i've never been happier to be wrong, jester you are my darling angel princess cinnamon apple and i love you

Favorite moment

jester's massive 700 hp point heal in the reunited special was so cool to see firsthand

Idea for a story

i think arty should keep fucking up and nearly getting killed so she can have more excuses to keep saving him

Unpopular opinion

i don't think she has autism/adhd. runs away

Favorite relationship

her and her mama and arty.

Favorite headcanon

i think if they had gotten tossed into jail instead of caleb showing off the beacon she would have been able to charm the guards and get them out. the power of jester.

caduceus

First impression

i got spoiled on him because i went out of order but i thought he was cool and loved his design

Impression now

Favorite moment

the comparatively underrated (according to fandom trends) scene where he reunites with his family

Idea for a story

i want him to see that orb vision of the gods destroying aeor so bad rn because i feel like it might make him trust melora MORE but i wanna be sure lol

Unpopular opinion

i sort of wish he'd stayed more morbid. taliesin went for the creepy vibes hard in the liveshow and then he fell off it just as hard and leaned into hippy. and that's not bad, and i get that he did it on purpose to push himself out of his comfort zone but it does make me curious as to what a "taliesin-friendly" caduceus would look like

Favorite relationship

finally giving fjord something with wildbrothers. i know a lot of people looking back on it now have problems with the portrayal of gods as wholly 100% good compared to "false" deities but hey, if going off the pact = addiction route, i think that's it's fair enough for fjord to recover from his addiction with faith and caduceus doesn't force his beliefs on him or imply it's the right thing to do

Favorite headcanon

intersex caduceus is real to ME

[mcrinmyhead]

INTRODUCTION

Hiya, my name's Dee or you can call me Dead! instead, cuz that's what my name is in Tumblr. I'm sixteen. I'm an Indian, racists better fck off. I like to draw, sing and write songs and poems. I mainly post my art here and I have two side blogs too, which are @mcrinmyheart (idk what I post there :D) and @shesacomplicatedpoet where... Er, you know it. And when I say "art" I usually draw My Chem, Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park, Bring Me The Horizon and a few other bands, but you can always leave a picture in the "Ask me?" box if you really want me to draw something that you like :). Just make sure it isn't something s!utty, cuz my parents like seeing my sketchbook sometimes, haha.

About me...

Name: Dead! / Dee

Age: 16

Pronouns: she/her

Likes: listening to music, art, singing, music bands, food, sleeping (I'm a very eepy person), travelling, reading, etc.

What kind of art do I do? Fanarts mainly.

Dislikes: peanuts (yea I don't like 'em, so if you know me irl and try to feed me peanuts, I'm gonna fcking stab you, you little shit), pedos, homophobic fcks, MSI apologists, basic DNIs, etc.

Am I single? Yes, and that's because I don't want to date anyone. Nvm, I'm taken :]

Music bands/artists I like:

+ twenty one pilots, p!atd, Bring Me The Horizon, Glass Animals, Bad Omens, Sleep Token, etc. I also liked The 1975, The Nbhd, Joji, Driver The Era, Arctic Monkeys and Chase Atlantic before, so I really don't mind if you wanna talk about them too. I'm basically a music addict who has listened to a whole lotta music genres throughout my life. But I'm currently into rock music rn. Yeah, I can't stop talking about music if I start.

My favourites:

Books: Agatha Christie's books, Heartstopper, Five Feet Apart, The Fault in our Stars, Crime/Horror/Mystery books (there are many but I can't remember them), etc.

Movies: anything horror, mystery, crime, sci-fi, Marvel, DC, Star Wars, from the 2000s and 90s, etc. (How do people actually choose a favourite movie??)

Shows: Loki, Heartstopper, Young Royals, Marvel shows, etc. (I literally like all the shows I watch)

Albums: My top 10 rn (June 2024) are like- Three cheers for sweet revenge (my chem), POST HUMAN: NexGen (BMTH), XO (LeATHERMØUTH), The Black Parade (my chem), I brought you my bullets, you brought me your love (my chem), Clancy (Tøp), A Thousand Suns (Linkin Park), Danger Days (my chem), Folie a Deux (FOB), and Pretty. Odd. (P!ATD).

Colours: (Bury me in) Black, Blood Red and Lavender.

Where else can you find me?

At home, in my room 95% of the time. Nah, just kidding.

Links:

Pinterest

Spotify

Discord: mcrinmyhead

Tags I use:

My art: #art

Asks: #asks #asks <3

Scroll down for more facts about me...

Or don't. I really don't care.

Fun facts about me ^^:

I'm a really joyful, chaotic, kind, funny and a sweet person! :D (according to my frens)

Until and unless you get me on my nerves. Trust me, That's when I go insane.

If you know me irl, hi... Uh, I know I don't talk much in person but I'm sorry. That's just who I am. But if you want to be my friend, you can start by texting me lol.

I'm a music addict who likes to annoy people by talking about music bands 24/7.

I have an unhealthy obsession over My Chem.

I'm a huge nerd (according to every person in my class) and I like Math and Science (but I don't really talk about it unless you are someone who is into math and science as much as me).

I'm also a sarcastic and sassy person. So if my words ever offend you, I'm so sorry bbg. Deal with it.

I'm a vampire (I have fangs and I will bite you to suck that blood your body holds, RAHHH).

Other than drawing and singing, my hobbies are fangirling, sleeping, reading books, travelling and sometimes even cooking.

I might be surrounded by many people who I call my "friends," but in the end it's just four people who are actually my friends.

I'm mostly an introvert, but I'm an extrovert when I'm with my friend.

I suck at socializing btw.

Yikes, this list is still going on!

But I like to annoy people at the same time.

Wait, does Tumblr have a word limit on a post?

SHALL I TRY REACHING THE WORD LIMIT???

Ah, yeah, I forgot to mention this but I'm a really curious person. I like trying out or experimenting on stuff. It's fun, okay?

I can be smart and an idiot at the same time B)

I write poems but I don't like showing them to others cuz I feel like they're stupid. Any tips on poetry from the poets of Tumblr?

I love cats. Cats or get tf out.

Am I annoying rn?

Idk.

This was fun.

Alright, that's enough fckery for today. Farewell my little kittens <333

So long and good night!

[aardvaark]

Leverage character asks: 1,3,17,45 (your choice on character)

thank you for the ask & for fueling my leverage obsession lol <3

1. Canon I outright reject

honestly i love the character development on leverage, even when it means the character has some negative traits or weaknesses or something. hmm… i think one thing i disliked was hardison being a super bad tipper (some ep in s5). he doesn’t care about workers? particularly after five years of leverage? idk.

i also wish eliot didn’t seem to like cops so much, but thats more of a gripe with the show’s/showrunners’ attitudes towards police.

3. Obscure headcanon

sophie: that she’s trans! love that hc. shout out to @transsophiedevereaux. also that sophie had a drunken one night stand with maggie, which is actually (word of god) canon rather than a head canon, but seems to be rarely mentioned.

nate: nate x sophie x sterling… it’s happened at least once.

parker: so many!! but the one i’ll share is that. uh. she’s probably killed someone. pre-leverage, she’s known to be dangerous for a reason, and she’s been in a lot of awful situations unfortunately. she would probably have done so out of necessity, it might even have been self defense, but yk. it’s still killing someone. and no, i don’t mean the pilot flashback - according to word of god (ie john rogers) she probably didn’t kill her foster parents when exploding their house. anyway, i’ve seen some cool fics about this idea and discussed this topic w @laser-tripwires and i think it’s really interesting for a variety of reasons, but i won’t list them here bc this is already getting so long lol.

hardison: that he still secretly adds to nana’s income somehow (he canonically paid off her medical bills), that he plays D&D, that he likes [insert media beloved by geeks that i don’t really know much about, but i love that people hc him as enjoying the things they enjoy so much].

eliot: my own silly hc that many of his scars are actually from kitchen accidents rather than fights lol

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

gonna answer this one for sophie only, cause i have quite a few answers just for her!

1) i saw a gif set of sophie once with the lyrics of "thief" by imagine dragons, and it was a really gorgeous gif set and the lyrics fit very well.

2) yk the fable "the scorpion and the frog"? at the end of s1, she seems to excuse her actions (conning the team) like the scorpion - that it’s just in her nature, lying is who she is, she’s a thief and this is what thieves do, etc. additionally, it’s what sterling says about her, that her behaviour was predictable because it’s "who she is".

3) the gambler by kenny rogers. bc the chorus is canonically her life philosophy lmao (according to the last dam job).

45. Their favorite celebrity

sophie: canonically, db cooper. she idolises him in the db cooper job lol. poster above her bed as a teenager etc etc.

nate: man, his would be oddly specific im sure. like he reads war strategy books, maybe sun tzu. or perhaps a chess grandmaster, like bobby fischer. i don’t know much about war strategists nor chess players, so if anyone does, then maybe you can suggest a more specific person.

hardison: i know he loves star trek, doctor who, star wars - im simply not pop culture savvy enough to know who his fave actors from those shows might be. BUT. i think it would be funny if his fave celebrity was wil wheaton (who was in star trek, and who, of course, played cha0s in leverage). also, wil wheaton is famously into D&D, video games, comics, and other "geek" stuff that hardison proudly enjoys too. hardison does not see the resemblance btwn wheaton and his nemesis, no idea what you’re taking about.

eliot: i think he would have people he looks up to or thinks are incredible, who are celebrities but only in a very specific field. like a renowned chef, but not a "celebrity chef" as in one who’s on tv. i mean like a chef who is famous among chefs, for being one of the most talented in the world.

parker: i feel her definition of celebrity would be somewhat different to most people’s. plus, her knowledge of the world is deep but narrow - she knows everything possible about thievery and anything even tangentially related (probably a decent amount of physics, for example), but pop culture? not so much. she later gets into stuff like dr who via hardison though, so perhaps the actor of the current doctor, ncuti gatwa. now, there’s also famous thieves, BUT they’re generally only famous because they eventually got caught. parker does not get caught. she would not idolise someone who ended up caught. maybe the thief of an unsolved heist. honestly, parker is famous in the leverage crime world. so. herself? not that she enjoys being a celebrity lol.

[gruesome-beauty]

that love poem is one of my favorite poems of all time. i wonder why she doesnt make songs that sweet. not that i dislike her discography, shes one pf my favourite artists ever, and i reckon she is one of the best lyricists ever. im just curious about the contrast.

there are soooooo many reasons i feel like all contribute to why we don’t get as many like “pure” love songs from her. she has an innate rejection of typical love songs that you can see every time she talks about why she loves options by pedro the lion (i think when you’re raised on emo music it has a profound impact on what you consider a love song. the things i think are the greatest love songs are almost all a little bit fucked up, so i get her.) she was at least at one point deeply afraid of toxic lesbian stereotypes and writing about women disrespectfully because of the ways male musicians she listened to wrote about women. i think there’s also a matter of bad timing - she had a LOT of songs written after totl that she scrapped when everything happened in 2019, and i always wonder if there might have been some sweeter songs in there, since she had some very happy times for a few years. and really, i think it’s just easier with poems because you don’t have to perform them in front of people.

[inventedfangirling]

BEST of BL's in 2023 [Thai edition]

(more accurately my favourites from 2023, so that i have something to show for the 100s of hours i spent watching them lmao)

I Feel You Linger In The Air - Head & Shoulders above (almost) every single piece of queer media i've ever watched. Khun Yai and Jom will be forever icons. That drunk poem confession will NEVER be topped. Also LESBIANS AHHHHHH also the way the show explored intimacy AHHH just end meeee

2. Moonlight Chicken - Aof strikes again. Gave me Uncle Jim, Heart, Li Ming and my baby boy Gaipa- the music, the cinematography, the writing, the found fckin family - i will recommend it to EVERY one on the planet if i could.

3. Be My Favourite- I did not expect to enjoy this show as much as i did. I loved what they were tryna say. I LOVED the queer undertones in EVERYTHING. if not for the asexual erasure and Not being an absolute asshole this would have been quite the perfect show. And man is Gawin so darn sculpted perfection, LOOK AT THAT FACE, how to not admire!? Also Pearmai my beloved. AND THAT POEM in episode 11 ARGHHH

4. Bed Friend - I know this was a polarizing series in a lot of ways and I agree to some of the complaints raised BUTTTTTT NET MY FRENZ NET! How am i supposed to not melt into a complete puddle watching King pretend to not be absolutely in love with Uea, and treating him like the babygirl he is, when he looks like THAT. I'm but a mere mortal.

5. La Pluie - I kinda liked the show and disliked it in equal amounts. Saengtai annoyed me quite a LOT towards the end BUT his brother Sangtien - Suar Kritsanaphong had me in the palm of his hand. Him and his kiss with Lomfon is etched firmly in my brain. It HAD to be on this list.

6. Only Friends - Gawd. The Promise. The Promise of it all. Thats what maddens me THE MOST. There was just SO MUCH that they could have done. Even if they stuck with a lot of their similar choices i would have still put it higher up on the list if they hadn't undone all the good work they did in the final episode. I couldnt even bring myself to rewatch anything from this one cos of how disappointingly it ended. That being said - FirstKhao KILLED it as usual, i CANNOT wait for their next one, BOSTON deserved better and my MVP- Mark Pakin AHHH i NEED him on EVERY SHOW EVER but also in ways concerning to me GAWD WHAT A TALENT AND WHAT A FACE.

7. Laws of Attraction - Charn you guys. Charn and his utterly deranged expressions and his even more deranged ex. And ofc everything else the show offered. The drama. The mystery. The family. The romance. THE LESBIANS!!!!? Few things not to love. Especially the finale with all the domestic husbanding going on. Precious af.

8. Hidden Agenda - Far too much nonsensical plotlessness going on here for this to claim this position BUT i'm just a girl watching Joong swoon over his man and losing it in the corridor and proceeding to do that myself cos man he's so damn good in these kinda scenes. I think he'd be good in more serious ones too but I would much prefer it if it was with somebody who could offer more than Dunk (no shade he very cute himself)

POTENTIAL FAVS

The following is a list of shows i loved/liked it a LOT but still watching/running so I can't fully judge

(in no particular order except the first one cos who am i to put an aof show not at the top of any list)

Last Twilight [BEST THING EVER I AM WHOLLY AND IRRETRIEVABLY IN LOVE IM GONNA REWATCH IT LIKE ITS MY JOB PLS I NEED IT TO STICK THE LANDING SO BAD]

Love in Translation - episode 4 what a beauty, one of my fav episodes of any BL in 2023 ever- just LOVED the whole fake date thing - it was EVERYTHING

Wedding Plan - Leads are cute. Lesbians are cuter. Made me laugh. Also CUTENESS hello

Night Dream - Who doesn't love a long unrequited but actually totally requited love story?

The Sign - nothing i can ever say is gonna be enough to encompass just how mind-blowing this series is from concept to execution to CGI to costumes to the gorgeous leads with fckin electric chemistry AND the PINING and the will they won't they arhhhh- TOP TIER STUFF

Cooking Crush - i went into this with minimal expectations, the trailer didnt do much for me BUT oh my gawd i had SO MUCH FUN with each episode, i laughed SO much and i am very much looking forward to the rest of it

Cherry Magic - TayNew back again together. Karan and his gorgeous existence. Loved the og. The trope where one believes they are hard to love & someone who loves them like it’s breathing- its literally made for this show and i am SUPER excited where it goes. PLS PLS PLS let them keep the aroace character aroace PLEASE!?!?!?

[plasmasimagination]

Hi, could I get a match up? Idk if I should write my preferences or you choose yourself but I'd be glad men from honkai star rail or genshin, I love them both! 🩷

I'm a very calm INFP-T, wear classy clothes such as furs, pearl necklaces, loose sweaters, am rather introverted but whenever I meet someone new I put on a smile and take an initiative with talking.

I'm talented in drawing, love listening to 40's music and I drink tea almost religiously.

I don't like crowds so I avoid taking walks just because, if I have no reason to go outside then I stay at home and enjoy drawing or tidying up my room (which I also like). Most of the time I am by myself.

As for my physical appearance, I'm a 169cm girl/woman (idk, I'm legal but too young to call myself a woman, hah!) with blonde locks, blue eyes and slim body. I love a subtle makeup to make my feature pop. I have "sad eyes" if I may say so.

What else do I say? I'm easily embarrassed but I also know how to make people laugh. I'm very friendly and it's very hard to irritate me. I tend to overlook people's flaws but I don't get attached too easily. I'm an optimist and a romantic at heart.

I hope it's enough and I truly hope I you're up for the task! Wishing you all the hest, your blog is amazing ☺️🩷

Hi sweetie

.

.

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Jing yuan

Absolutely two cuties together.

I think Jing yuan finds you just adorable! Like at times he'll just stare at you and think to himself about how gorgeous you are

He appreciates your sweet and polite attitude, since he is the general, having such a partner as his significant other is a good look for him (this sounds like it would make him look bad if you Warent I'm not saying that I'm saying it's nice that you're friendly bc the people of Xianzhou will love you)

He knows your dislike for crowds and doesn't usually take you anywhere where there are a lot of people, maybe a fancy restaurant at night, a picnic somewhere away from a city, or simply just a walk in the silent part of a part.

He's also a fanboy over your drawings, literally your biggest fan and sometimes just sits there and watched your draw without saying anything, also loves to show it off like fu xuan has already heard it all

KAZUHA

Two calm and sweet cutiepies

Also he's into music, you're into art, isn't that the best combination!?

He enjoys being with you, close to you, talking to you, generally being with you, he's the happiest vision holder in the world when hes with you

You can make him laugh, and that, he's grateful for.

Sometimes life takes a toll on him, sentimental feelings getting to him, yet all those thoughts leave his mind when a smile tugs on your lips when you attempt to make him chuckle.

Like a hand waved away all the dark clouds of his mind, his thoughts get lighter and he's reminded that after all, as long as there's you, his life has meaning, either for his heart to beat in rhythm to yours, or to witness the smile on your lips and the way your eyes stare into his, thats what makes him feel complete, you help him forget about everything, even for a second.

Expect a lot hand written hakus and poems, complimenting all about you, inside and out, it's a small way of him showing his appreciation

[flowersofstarlight]

🌷Valentino Voguish🌷

Valentino, also known as Val, is a fashion designer and seamstress. They are friends with Mortimer and the Handeemen who help out with clothes and fabrics, the fashion choices, helping and giving children the confidence they need, and many things they are willing to help the Handeemen.

They are the owner of their boutique called “Radiant Aurora”, who immediately takes a liking to Nick Nack and his friends when they enter their shop. Their boutique is located in the city, somewhere near the town where the Handeemen live.

They are creative with their work and talent, very generous, and a beauty expert. Valentino loves pink, likes to spend time with the Handeemen, drinking tea and likes to keep things organized in their boutique and at home. They have shown their favorite flowers in Season 3, which are roses, tulips and cosmos flowers.

They have had Katsaridaphobia since they were a young child that crawled on their arm once. They hate what they look like and the fact that cockroaches carry bacteria. They dislike seeing their friends being mistreated. Especially hated the fact that Nick was being mistreated by his abusive father, Francis Nack (belong to @ericaportfolio). After Nick and his friends escape from Francis and his mobs, Val often stays with Nick and comforts him. They care deeply and are loyal to their family and friends.

Due to their love of fashion, Valentino got along very well with Nick Nack and became close friends in Season 3. Both are flamboyant, love poems, music, and understand the beauty of art. The two even shared their interest and liked to hang out together.

Val enjoys Mortimer’s company and having tea with him. They often talk about their family to him and mention that Mortimer somewhat reminds them of their old friend that brings back good memories.

Just like Nick Nack, Valentino has a complicated relationship and is at odds with Riley (which annoys Riley now that there’s two of them who are passionate about art). But they respect her and like her determination.

Valentino loves Daisy’s pie and is always grateful for her help when they run out of fabric and threads or clean up in their boutique. They are willing to fix or make new clothes and dresses for Daisy for free along with the Handeemen as they are their dearest friends. They appreciate Daisy’s kind words about their work and how compassionate she is.

Valentino has a bit of a complicated relationship with Scout, but not as bad as Riley and Scout’s relationship to each other. Despite their differences and the frustrations that Val tried to convince Scout to try to wear dresses or other new clothes they made, they do respect her and have a soft side with teens and children.

Cruella Movie and Rarity from MLP:FIM were the major inspirations for this character to be a fashion designer. I’ve been thinking about creating my own Hello Puppets OC and my first Non-binary character for a long while, but couldn’t figure out what to write down and the design for them. But now, I finally did it and I’m happy creating this OC.

I also want to mention that I thought about Nick and Val having a romantic relationship or at least felt something for each other during the show. Because again, as I mentioned before, I always see Nick Nack as Bisexual.

And I thought Nick and Val’s romantic relationship would be like Amity and Luz from The Owl House, or Fizz and Asmodeus from Helluva Boss (DON’T watch that show if you’re under 18). I figured they would be cute together. So yeah. If you guys want to draw my OC Valentino, feel free. ^_^

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

i was talking to lestat the other day about poetry. i have a friend whose art i love and admire dearly but their poetry is weakened by their need, or perhaps simply their tendency, to write into their poem an explanation for everything they feel. not a justification necessarily but an overarticulation, more words to carve out the shape of the unspeakable thing

they do not come to me for poetic critique and so i do not give it to them. but in discussing this, and other poets, with lestat i of course had to use poetry to explain my own feeling about why i dont think poems work if you put too much effort into explaining them

as anne carson puts it:

its not that we want to understand everything or even understand anything we want to understand something else

i think this extends to most fields of art. david lynch notoriously refuses to explain his films. many authors disdain readers who try to "solve" their books. i suspect i am a mediocre poet for the same reason i am an altogether skillful cartoonist. there come multiple points in the process of writing (longform) prose where i shake my head and imagine pulling my manuscript out of my readers hands and say no no no i wrote it all wrong, im doing you a disservice by feeding your imagination the wrong thing, let me just show you instead. not out of a lack of faith in my readers sevicable imaginations (though maybe this is the case on my more misanthropic days) so much as a glaring self-consciousness that my words mean less when not juxtaposed against another movement. (and i wonder if musicians and lyricists feel this way towards poetry as i the graphic novelist feel towards novels.) my ability to articulate that "something else" requires more than one axis of imagination. if im feeling bad about myself i will point out that this means i am inefficient and prone to making more work for myself. if i find some generosity and compassion for the plight of the cartoonist i inhabit i will point out that this meaning is multiplicative, and only some stories can come out in this form without suffering some kind of mutilation.

i dislike thought bubbles in multiple levels for multiple reasons, partly because they also overexplain. i wont deny thought bubbles have their placeand im even outright fond of the manga tradition that blends it with narration wherein western comics theyre much more distinct but for the kind of comics i read and write, the characters' inner psyches are the one place i need to go alone, without the author. if i do my job right my comic will help my readers go there on their own path, and thats a privilege solely for them

is the thought process that Zizi goes through here even able to be articulated in a manner where one word can be put after another in a comprehensible order? if it was, is that more important than the reader moving through these emotions with them, and coming to these conclusions? im not so egotistical to presume i get to tell my readers how to feel or think or understand. its only my hope that through my art they find out what they want to understand something else.

[willothewispwisteriadawn]

Ranting about modern media consumption

There’s a sweet spot I want to get to, as a culture, in terms of consuming entertainment and media.

I want it to be okay to absolutely love things that “aren’t good,” as in well-written or well-constructed. It is okay to just fall in love with something because it spurs your imagination or because you became enamored with one character or because it’s just fun. There are things I love to death and will hardcore defend because they’re enjoyable to me even though I UNDERSTAND how they’re flawed. I dislike angry YouTube culture acting like enjoying flawed or simplistic things is the product of being dumb, or that any level of silly writing makes something completely garbage.

But on the other hand, I do worry about the actual uptick in the poor quality of things coming out and think that should be fixed. “People will like crap if the characters and idea are good” is not an excuse to pump out trope-riddled crap. Don’t be lazy. Still aim to have strong writing and good technique. It becomes bad when writers RELY on formulas, pandering, and smut to get someone to emotionally like their work in a cheap, shallow way.

(Kind of a tangent, but I’ve also thought about how poetry books now are all like free-form, train of thought poems. And I don’t think that style is necessarily bad! But it’s all I see now and the question becomes, are we doing this just because it’s popular now, or are we doing this because people have lost the skill, energy, and dedication needed for truly well constructed poems? Are we writing artistic thoughts because that’s what we like— or because so few people are bothering to learn meter).

I guess my thesis is that it’s okay to acknowledge a media’s flaws and be comfortable with them because you adore the good parts. But there’s a difference in flawed work that’s flawed because the writer is just being creative and fun and— flawed work that’s flawed because the writer is writing for all the wrong reasons and/or the creators went “it doesn’t have to be good for people to buy it.”

Is Demon Slayer a well-crafted epic? No. But it’s fun and artistic and celebrates familial love and heroism and I love it. But I have no patience for Disney anymore because they’re trying absolutely everything to sell films except “make a compelling story.” Disney, there’s no excuse, your company is stupid rich and if you had even a speck of human creativity left in your bones, you could produce it to the nines.