#i am just (again) not fond of poetry and not any more fond of my own than like. the other greats. keats and stuff. all the same to me
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no one on here would be particularly interested in reading poetry i've written, right?
#if im going to be writing poetry i might as well post it so i'm posting it to dreamwidth#but like you guys don't care right. it's not like something anyone gives a damn about right#note: i dislike poetry. i do not consider my poetry any better than most other poetry i've read which is to say i think it sounds bad and#stupid. however many people keep telling me it is actually 'good' and not complete garbage at all. odd but whatever#and i *am* archiving them on dreamwidth because god knows im not saving them for any personal use#i have to do this for a class for the record. i don't typically write poetry nor do i like to#the last poems i've published were done when i was still in high school if memory serves#sorry about the earlier tone of this post i woke up at 6am with a headache. you understand. this was sort of an interest check#i am just (again) not fond of poetry and not any more fond of my own than like. the other greats. keats and stuff. all the same to me#so i cannot by any means gauge these things myself
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i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.
i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.
what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.
so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.
and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.
and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.
#does this even MAKE SENSE!!!!!#writeblr#btw what im trying to express in that first sentence is EXPLICITLY the feeling of logging off therapy to immediately go back to work#like :) haha!
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🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love
Ohhhhhh I have SO MANY recommendations!
@yeyinde their entire masterlist. Absolutely transformative experience reading anything and everything Lev writes. I want to be her when I grow up
@groguspicklejar Chink In the Armor! Best medieval Ghoap AU I’ve ever read!!!! Mafia!141 is so deliciously angsty and she captures it soooo perfectly! Kelsi is absolutely my go to for any and all Kyle pretty boy Garrick reads!!!
@gemmahale Gemma my beloved🖤 everything she writes is literal treasure. Priceless. Deserving of a pretty glass case and soft leather bindings. There are worlds in her head I could not dream up in 100 lifetimes, and her OC’s are sooo complex and well rounded!
@peachesofteal once again, her entire masterlist. Everything she writes is guaranteed to leave me staring at the damn wall with the loading circle spinning on my forehead, wishing I could jump through my screen and live in the worlds she writes
@luminousbeings-crudematter Folie á Deux, Donner Party, and Land Softly are some of my favorites! I still need to work my way through the rest of Lumi’s masterlist😅 but the way she writes Simon 😳 my enclosure only has so many bars, I’m going to have to replace it soon
@391780 oh god too many to count! I looooove the way Early writes dark!141 and ALL of her stories highlight and praise big soft bodies🥰 she also does comic relief INSANELY well, and I just know anytime I sit down to read her fics I’m gonna have a good laugh (get wrecked König)
@moondirti I have just read the first part of Cabin fever and I am already IN LOVE with Dee and their writing style! Cannot wait to read more when I have the chance!
@ceilidho I was not a Price girly when I started getting into CoD, but Ceil’s take on him has irreversibly altered my brain chemistry🫠 and her characterization of a darker Simon?! Canon. She’s in charge now.
@auspicioustidings OH MY GOD!!!! Mhairi just started Ae Fond Kiss and I am so, so, sooooo in love with the concept for this fic! It’s already incredibly gut wrenching and I know I’m gonna be a sobbing mess throughout this series! Truly on the edge of my seat!!!
@pfhwrittes P has such a wrinkly brain! I’m absolutely in love with their Here Be Kink and Dealing Drugs and Feelings collections! Absolutely phenomenal writing! Everything they write is so dark, decadent and rich🤤
@kaadaaan Offer Me His Hunger is such a beautifully written descent into madness and obsession, and Vi does a truly immaculate job of portraying it! I chew on drywall thinking about this DAILY!!!!
@ohbo-ohno PUPPY! SOAP! Don’t Leave Me Locked In Your Heart was the beginning of a very transformative experience for me and with every new fic Bo writes I descend further into madness😵💫 I cannot unsee Soap with big puppy eyes and a pouty face and I think Bo should be on the writers team for his “surprise I’m not dead but guess what? I’m Very Fucked Up���️ now” story arc in MWIV bc that was not him in that tunnel
@glossysoap The go-to for any and all Captain related thoughts! Price and 09’ Soap can captain my ship anytime as long as it’s Glossy’s version🫡 Peppers is absolutely deserving of it’s namesake🥵
@charliemwrites never misses! All of her characterizations are spot-fucking-on and she has a wonderful selection of CoD characters that span multiple genres! I’m particularly in love with Woof Woof Johnny🥴 (nasty little freak🖤) and Fields of Elation
@vanderilnde RUGBY! PLAYER! SOAP! He’s dirty and nasty and pervy and pathetic!!!! What more could you want from a man like him? And the way Orion writes him…… CHEWING ON GLASS! I love when soap is a pathetic little whore and Orion NAILED IT!!!
@the-californicationist Oooohhhhh Guile and Guilt was one of the first CoD fics I ever read and it lives in my head 24/7, even when Johnny is whispering Nasty™️ ideas in my ear. The story, the poetry, the characterizations…. IT’S LITERAL PERFECTION!!!!
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Steve will kill me
Pairing: Javier Peña x Steve's daughter! reader
Warnings: age-gap, smut | unprotected p in v sex, slight choking
toc toc
A knock at the door.
"oh hi, dad" you greeted, opening the door.
"Hi honey" he answered, as your gaze traveled to the man beside him,
not just any man, you noted
"and hello to you too..." you raised an eyebrow questioningly
"right, sorry you haven't met" Your dad interrupted "This is Javier Peña, my partner, I invited him over for dinner"
"nice to meet you" he smiled, offering his hand
"nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n" you shook it, loving the feeling of his big hand around yours.
"Your dad's always talking of you" he said
"good things I hope" you smiled, inviting them in and closing the door.
"Of course"
__ __ __
"so what are you studying?"
"English literature"
"wow" he puffed "serious stuff"
"says the DEA agent" you raised an eyebrow, as you propped an elbow on the top of the couch to look at him better.
Your dad had gone to help your mom in the kitchen, leaving you two alone, something you didn't mind not one bit.
"touchè" he chuckled
" So how do you like college?"
"it's ok" you shrugged " I love my classes, just... there's other things I'm not that fond of"
"Like what?"
"Like the guys"
He smirked knowingly " Well a pretty girl like you... I bet you have a whole line of them"
pretty, you let your mind replay that word again and again
You laughed softly " Yeah, and they all seem to only want one thing"
Well, you can't blame them, he wanted to say.
"That's because they're boys sweetheart," he said instead
You cocked an eyebrow "So, you're saying I should find a man?" you asked, loving the veil of darkness that flashed behind his eyes.
He cleared his throat.
Nope, not doing this.
"I'm saying there's someone out there for everyone"
yeah, sure
"and have you found this someone?"
"Haven't been so lucky yet"
"that's too bad" you commented, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone.
He noticed the mischief in your irides and felt the instant need to change the topic.
"your dad says you write poetry"
Maybe talking about your dad was gonna help fight the magnetic force pulling him closer to you
"he does!?"
"He's really proud of you," he said "he even read one to me"
"oh my god," you hid your face in your hands, red streaks of embarrassment reaching your cheeks.
"it was amazing" he spoke "even if Steve was the one reading it"
You snorted, and he couldn't help but smile as he reached for your hands to remove them from your beautiful face.
"one of the best things I've ever heard"
"you're just saying that"
His hands were still on you
"I'm not"
you bit your lip, and he couldn't stop his eyes from falling to your mouth.
"thank you" you murmured
"I'd love to read more" he found himself leaning closer
"and what would I get?"
anything you want, he was about to stop himself from saying, when Steve entered the room. He dropped your hands and immediately leaned away.
__ __ __
You spent the entire dinner pretending not to notice his eyes on you and had to stop yourself from granting him the same treatment.
Your eyes met at last, and your lips twitched into a smile he wanted to photograph and keep in his pocket forever.
God, what was wrong with him?
" Should I get the cake?" you asked, looking briefly at him, before turning to your mom
"Sure hon, I'll help you"
"no it's fine I can handle it" you stopped her, walking over to the kitchen.
You grabbed a knife from the drawer, hearing the soft buzz of the conversation in the other room.
The cake was on the table, so you set the plates before it and started cutting the slices.
The door opened.
"can't keep away from me huh?" You joked as Javier entered.
"I needed another beer" he gestured to the empty one in his hand
"Sure you did" you taunted
He opened the fridge, grabbing a new one.
"Can I have a sip?"
"Are you old enough?"
You gasped, feigning offense "of course I am," you said "In fact" you took the bottle from his hand "I'm old enough to do a lot of things"
He watched attentively how your lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle as you drank from it.
"you shouldn't say things like that sweetheart"
You grinned "why is that?"
"one might take them the wrong way"
"what if it's the way I intended for one to take them?" you asked, taking a step so you were right in front of him.
"then you really shouldn't"
"Are you scared of what might happen?" you asked, "you scared you might not be able to stop yourself?"
"is that it?"
I can't do this, he thought
"I can't do this"
Steve would kill me
"do what?" you whispered, as your finger traced his tie
You could see the restraint in his eyes as they scanned your face.
You weren't going to make the first move, you wanted him to cave, to give up.
"Well," you spoke "I better get back to the cake"
"wanna help me out?"
__ __ __
toc toc
shit
toc toc toc
I'm coming, god!
you fumbled with the lock, your hands still slippery from the shower.
"One second dad, I was in the show-"
"oh" Javier breathed
"oh hi," you smiled "sorry, I thought you were my dad"
You opened the door fully now, watching as your dad's partner's gaze traveled slowly up and down your body, only covered by a milk-white towel.
"Is there a reason you came here except getting to stare at me?"
He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes to look back at yours.
"I need to talk with your dad about something"
"he's not home"
"When will he be back?"
"I don't know"
There was a pause as you both thought of what to do next.
"you can wait for him here if you want"
"I don't think I should"
"c'mon I'm sure whatever's going on is important, otherwise you wouldn't have come here"
He was thinking, he had a thinking face you noticed, the same one he had in the kitchen the other night.
"alright," he finally agreed, knowing full well he was making a mistake.
"so what did you need to talk to him about?" you asked, closing the door behind him.
"Just work stuff"
"of course" you chuckled
"you want a beer?" you asked
"sure"
Is she not going to change? He thought as he followed you to the kitchen.
You took a sip from it before passing him the bottle
"you don't like drinking your own beer?"
"I need to check if it's good" you smiled "plus, this way it's as if we kissed"
He smirked,
walked right into that one
"so when are you going back to college?"
"Can't wait to get rid of me?"
"Just curious sweetheart"
"next week"
next week, that's good, he could make it 'till next week, though the outfit really wasn't helping.
"about that" you remembered "last night you said you wanted to read more of my poetries"
"of course, you're really talented"
"thank you" you blushed faintly,
that was your weak spot, he realized, the one moment when the confidence act fell was when he talked of your passion.
"well if you're still up for that I can show you now"
"that'd be great"
"great" you grinned "come, I should have an old notebook in my room"
He paused
"in your room?"
"yes, Javier, in my room, is there something wrong with that?"
yes,
"no" he said unconvincingly
"ok, then follow me"
__ __ __
Your old room was, as said, old.
Posters still filled the light pink walls, as did your high school photos.
Javier felt like an intruder for stepping in there, and thinking about it, he was, he never should have come into the house.
"here," you said, pointing at something on a shelf above your desk.
Your towel inched upward as you reached for the notebook.
He didn't even try not to stare.
"I want to point out that this is old stuff," you said " I was young when I wrote these and I've gotten better" you explained, turning some pages.
"Oh I like this one" you beamed, "I wrote it when I was 17"
He stepped closer to you, your scent intoxicating him immediately.
You had just gotten out of the shower, but something about it was still unmistakably you.
You handed him the notebook, and he attentively read the whole thing.
"what do you think?" you asked, after some moments
"you wrote this at 17?"
"yep"
"How?" he was in shock "I mean, you've got a real talent sweetheart"
"the only thing I was good at 17 was drooling over girls"
You laughed softly "then you didn't change much, did you?"
"Maybe I didn't"
"Well, you can keep reading through that if you want, I'm gonna go change"
thank god, he thought as you walked to the bathroom.
"javier!" he heard you call him from the bathroom after a few moments.
"yes?"
"I'm sorry I forgot my pants, could you bring them to me?"
"uh, sure, where are they?"
"they're somewhere in the room I don't remember"
"ok" he said, as he looked around
"I don't see them"
"they're not on the desk?"
"nope"
"bed?"
"neither" he answered "maybe they're in-"
"whatever" you opened the bathroom before he could finish, stepping out of it in a very short shirt, and some very red panties.
fuck
You started walking around the room like it was nothing.
"how is it possible they just disappeared?" you asked yourself.
"y/n"
"I mean unless there'd ghosts I don't understand"
"y/n"
"yes?" you walked right in front of him "you sure you haven't seen them?"
You watched as he slowly swallowed.
"baby" his voice was hoarse "you can't do this to me"
You frowned "do what?"
" you're killing me"
"Javi," you placed a hand on his arm "I don't know what you're talking about"
"stop that," he said "Steve will kill me"
You bit your lip, done with your little act "And what makes you think he'd have to know?"
He sighed
"I don't see anyone else here" you looked around "just me and you Javi" you grinned "you decide what happens next"
He never had much of a choice, did he?
"fuck me" he cursed under his breath, and just like that, his lips were on yours.
He grabbed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, and your arms flew behind his neck.
The faint taste of beer still lingered on his lips, and his mustache was gently grazing your upper lip.
As his hands started exploring your back, the kiss got more heated, his tongue moving into your mouth violently, as one of his hands found your ass.
You whimpered into the kiss, and you broke apart to catch your breath.
"this is a mistake" he breathed
"then why does it feel so good?" you asked, not waiting for an answer before going back in.
He turned you around, starting to walk towards the bed.
Once the back of your legs felt the mattress, you took the hint to sit on it.
He looked at you, under him, your lips fluffy and pink, and wished he had the willpower to stop, as all he could do was take his shirt off.
He bent down to you and you crawled onto the bed.
he helped you out of your shirt and groaned as he took in your bare tits.
"fuck you really wanna torture me huh?" he asked, starting to spread hot kisses all over your neck and chest.
"I tried to refrain but you made it fucking impossible baby" he murmured, his fingers finding the waistband of your panties.
"you were so determined to break me" he laughed softly "and you did" he admitted, pulling your panties off of you.
"Please Javi I need you" you begged, your voice already a faint moan.
"you need me?" he asked, leaning back to undo his zipper and take off his pants.
"yes I need you please" you whimpered
"since when?"
"Since I first saw you"
You felt his cock lining up to your entrance.
"that right, sweetheart?"
"yes Javi, yes!" you said desperately
"fuck you're gonna kill me" he muttered, pushing into you.
"Oh god!" you moaned loudly, your hand gripping his bicep.
"fuck baby" he groaned "you're squeezing me so tight"
He started to move, and you felt your brain melt already.
he felt so good, the only thing you could do was moan and whimper as he picked up his pace.
"fuck- when you opened the door with that tiny towel on, it took everything in me not to tear it off of you and fuck you right there baby" he growled, "you think that was funny?" he asked "torturing me like that?" he continued, his dick so deep inside of you you could feel every little detail of it against your walls.
"You think it was funny to come out here half naked?" he said "to show that little ass off like it's nothing" his hand found your throat "like I haven't been thinking of it since I first saw you" his fingers squeezed lightly on the sides of your neck.
"say you're sorry sweetheart" he commanded "say you're sorry"
Your brain was only half functioning, as the feeling of his hand around your throat and of his cock hitting your spot with each thrust were incredibly distracting, but you still managed to do as told.
"I'm-I'm sorry" you whispered pathetically
"that's it" he bent down to kiss your neck, as his hand left it "good girl"
He felt your walls squeeze him at the praise, and could only chuckle like a smug bastard in response.
"you like that?" he mocked "you like being called a good girl?"
You nodded, as another moan fled your mouth.
"god baby, what would your dad think?" he shook his head "what would he think if he knew her good little girl likes to be called names and fucked senseless by guys twice her age?"
"He would be so shocked, poor guy" he smirked, as he grabbed your waist to slam even more harshly into you.
"fuck Javi" your nails were definitely leaving scratches on his arms at this point
"what baby?"
"Please, I-I'm coming "
"I can feel it" he groaned "I can feel you squeezing me sweetheart"
"Javi" you moaned again
"c'mon baby" he encouraged "come for me" he breathed, getting closer too "come like the good girl you are"
Those words were enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a wave of pure bliss.
He kept going, letting you ride out your high, as you moaned his name over and over more incoherently.
"that's it" he kept saying "that's it, baby" he growled, and just before he was about to come, he pulled out, his cold cum shooting all over your belly.
He looked at you, breathing heavily underneath him, completely ruined, completely perfect, and he couldn't help but smile.
"What?" you asked, smiling too now
"I don’t think I'll ever be able to look at your dad in the face again"
#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña x fem!reader#javier peña x y/n#javier pena narcos#Javier Peña smut#Javier Peña narcos#Javier Peña fic#Javier Peña fanfiction#Javier pena smut#javier pena x reader#javier pena smut#javier peña smut#smut#fanfiction#narcos x reader#narcos#pedro pascal#Pedro Pascal smut#dbf!javier peña#dbf javier pena
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Hello!
Welcome to my writeblr! I'm very new to this whole thing, and while I have *had* tumblr for a while now, I've never actually used it, so please bear with me :)
About my writing
I started out writing fanfic and short stories over a decade ago (ouch, now I feel old) and am hoping someday to become a published novelist. I mostly write horror, fantasy, and dystopian fiction, (with romance often playing quite a big role), though I am incapable of resisting dabbling in other genres too from time to time. A lot of my writing tends to deal with themes of loss, mental illness, suffering, and the inevitability of the human condition. In a bid to see myself and others like me represented more widely in the media, my longer fiction works often include neurodiverse, disabled and lgbt+ characters.
About me!
First things first, my name is Shannon, though online I mostly go by Shay. Feel to free use either :)
Now, a few fun little facts to break up those hefty chunks of writing (make the most of it, this might be the last time in a while).
I'm from, and currently live in, the UK. And I use she/they pronouns.
I'm a (twenty-something year old) child living an adult's life. And I am not having fun. Please, send help.
My reading tastes tend to be quite similar to my writing, in that I'll read just about anything I deem interesting in most genres but my preferences lie in dystopia and fantasy.
I have AuDHD and a whole host of other funky little brain things that keep writing (and life) all that much more fun! On a serious note, this may mean I'll disappear from time to time and posts may not always be consistent. (It also means interactions may be somewhat difficult for me, so again, please bear with me :)
I'm an amateur field hockey player with no other interest in sport besides playing it.
I have studied creative writing at uni briefly but I'm currently in the midst of switching to a social sciences and anthropology degree - expect a little academia related content maybe.
I'm a fur-parent - pictures may follow (they definitely will) of my little demon child.
I love to travel (especially solo) and often take a lot of inspiration for my writing from my little adventures, from setting and plot ideas to character development and world-building. Also, train journeys have proven quite fruitful in producing some pretty solid sentences... that have yet to be of further use.
A few pictures (below) from my most recent solo trip.
I also occasionally play video games, listen to an unhealthy amount of rock music, obsess over fictional characters (other than my own), and partake in multiple other creative pastimes, most of which get abandoned rather unceremoniously (thank you, ADHD).
About my writeblr
My username 'a series of small things' comes from one of my favourite Van Gogh quotes; "great things are not done all at once, but by a series of small things brought together", which I think is really apt, not only as a writer but also just in everyday life too. Also, inspite being rather artistically inept myself, I have a fondness for ol' Vinny, which makes the quote even more perfect.
I hope to use this space as a way to start getting my original work out into the world and to hopefully make some like-minded friends along the way too! I'll mostly be posting some of my short stories and progress reports on my longer wips, but may also post some poetry and other random ramblings from time to time.
Feel free to ask me any questions and interact with me :)
#writerscommunity#writeblr#fantasy writer#writers#writerscorner#queer fiction#writer things#writers on tumblr#neurodivergent#adhd writer#new blog
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Yo, pronouns: I kinda vibe with fae/faer, but she/her is simpler
This is mostly reblogs of things I like. I don't use individual tags, but if it's horny it'll have nsft in the tag, if I think it's scary it'll have horror, but these tags are mostly for me to sort through here for what's important to my interests. If you like my constant horny posting, perfect! Go interact with the blog it came from ✨ you're welcome for the advertising. The only tags that're gonna be super important for you besides are:
#my poetry, #oddwords) my poetry and loose thoughts. If you can stand my incessant horny posting, you've probably got good/bad enough taste to enjoy it 😅
#annoyed, #politics) Everything is political, but if it's especially politicized it'll get one of these two tags. It'll probably also be something that frustrates me about the world. If it's just something I think is annoying, I'll just ignore the post instead of reblogging.
#echoes) it's been a long time since I've properly performed at all, and I'm anxious about it, but I'm also an attention whore and I love singing. If I ever work up the nerve to do it again, you'll see covers under this tag. If I ever write something, it'll get the #oddwords tag too.
That said, if you're under 18, stupid (some flavor of bigot, tenderqueer, any kind of unironically spiritual/religious) go away thanks ✨🖤
I don't like you, or you're too young for this rn, and I think anti-empiricism is fucking stupid. I'm not respectful or whatever dog whistle you've made up for tolerating being stupid. +NO, I will not make an exception for you. At best I'll people please to avoid an uncomfortable confrontation, and desperately hope you get sick of me. The only crystals I like are the crystal gems, and mythology isn't real; weird idiots fuck off.
Read under the cut if still you want my ear for some reason
I save most of my important thinking for my work blogs, Mystydjinn and Belledjinn, where I run a super cute/cursed vtuber routine ✨
[Mysty 🖤] I found a djinni and made her promise me 3 wishes if I set her free from her prison with a fourth. I am bad at making wishes though, so instead of having fatter boobs and thousands of screaming fans, I've got a virtual doppelganger with bigger boobs than me. But the djinni is cosmically bound to be our manager now, so the existential horror is easier to cope with 😅. I'm a nerd, so this blog is solely about the games I'm working on, games I've played, games I am playing, games I'm DM/GM'ing, voice acting & writing projects, and the rare shitpost. It's also mostly "clean" at least as clean as I have to be to stay monetized on YouTube, but that's it.
If you like fictional literature at all, you want to follow [🖤Belle]. She's the djinn that cursed me, is smarter than me, and likes snatching people from their beds to be her plaything in the middle of the night- she's a little bit maleficent I'm ngl. She's really good at picking shots of me for my Fansly though, so I mostly let her do whatever she wants. Expect smut (mostly wlw), and full stories about adults in general. Fellow old Gen Z and millennials who're chill, this one's for you.
All that said, I'm a lot of other things too:
Sapphic- I like "women," and basically only women, even if the concept of gender is... kinda pointless? Idk. It feels more honest to just describe what presentations and bodies I like, because the hottest studs/butches always look like men who've seen war with tits and occasionally a fat ass. But a cool person is a cool person.
Poly- I don't believe in distinctions between "kinds" of love. Love by my understanding; is a mutual level of fondness and trust between individuals, plus a commitment to maintaining that mutual fondness and trust. Romance, is just various ways of expressing sexual intent, or sex itself. Not all my relationships carry the same weight for me, but my "platonic" relationships are just as categorically important to me as my "romantic" ones. If I love you, I love you. If I wanna drip this soaking kitty into your mouth while I stuff your cock/clit/idk into mine, then I wanna hear you scream my name and/or force me to call you Mommy. Exclusivity, as result, is a pretty useless arbitrary restriction to me. I'm interested in dedicated relationships, all of mine are, but if you don't want me playing with the other bunnies/kittens/puppies/mommies/dommes/toys on the playground, you'll need a pretty convincing argument for why not, like a literal dowry or something. I'm apparently pretty picky with my heart though, so if I love AND wanna fuck you, you're in a pretty exclusive "club." But I'm gonna fuck whatever I feel like fucking.
I'm obsessed with game design/media and the arts; there's not a medium with a digital presence I don't know at least a little bit about, and I love to learn, as much as I love creating cursed nonsense.
Hypersexual, for better or worse
I am someone with a very low tolerance for manipulative communication. Say what you want, and say it quickly and clearly.
If you're not direct with me, or refuse to clarify honestly when I ask why you're in my DMs; I'm not gonna know what you want and I'll get anxious. When I'm anxious I get hypervigilant, and on the off chance I realize you're trying to manipulate me because you're too anxious to be direct, or think you are; I'll block you on the spot. Go to therapy and learn how to use your words like a fucking adult.
Be straight with me or be a fan, please and thank you. I'm a whole person with my own interests and desires, not a product to be consumed, a trophy to make you finally feel worth something, and certainly not a character you can kin unless you're paying me.
DMs are only open to MUTUALS who are honest about and comfortable with their intentions.
The rest of you; man, woman, or fellow enby things, use my Asks and/or go to Belledjinn to DM me and pay for my time and energy. I enforce the performer/audience divide with hostility because I am hostile.
Mutuals
If you wanna shoot the breeze about a special interest, send me something you think I'd find fun, share your favorite smut/porn, or erp, just pop in and ask me or just start talking 🖤 I am a too busy ditz though, so be patient if I'm hard to keep track of.
I'm a switch 🖤 (princess/bunny sub - service domme) and a masochist 🖤 I get bratty, but unless you're dommy enough to shut me up, you've just flipped my switch. I'm embarrassingly obedient if given the opportunity, unless I'm working though, so I'm mostly interested in other switches if not outright brat tamers 🖤 ask me about other specific kinks in DMs please; furries 'n monsterfuckers pls say hi too 🥺
Also, my favorite bird is a crow. I'll ask you if you know to see if you actually read this.
I promise you'll get farther by being earnest about what you want from me, especially if it's "gross" 🥵 Cuz I like being nasty too. The tags in my horny posts aren't just for show, so ask about them if you wanna know
Also:
My brain is at ten, 90% of the time and it can be exhausting. If you'd be uninterested in me while I'm at 4, you can't actually handle me. Go away.
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AO3 First Lines
Both @ineffable-doll and @flameraven tagged me for this, and I think that is wonderful. Thank you for thinking of me even though I haven’t had anything new to post for a while! As for re-tagging, I’m a rebel and don’t generally do that, but if you follow me and are a fic writer and want to play along then I would love to be tagged in your post. Yes, this means you, the person saying “oh but he doesn’t mean me”! I don’t care that you write for a book I’ve never heard of or a show I’ve never watched. This kinda post can reveal patterns, and patterns are neat.
Rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published ao3 stories (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics).
Mine are all Ineffable Walnuts because hi my name is Jack and I have a hyperfixation.
Significant Hand Touches (G)
Crowley’s hand twitched almost violently in his. Just once.
Then it squeezed, firm and steady, before relaxing against his own. Comfortably. Slim fingers slotted between Aziraphale’s fat ones, as though they belonged there, just so.
He smiled at Crowley in the sickly light of the bus fluorescents. If Crowley noticed, he gave no sign.
Sorry (Not Sorry) (T)
“Hello, Aziraphale,” said a warm, unforgettable voice, and for a moment Aziraphale was seventeen again, hands shaking to the rhythm of his heart.
He turned around. “Crowley,” he breathed.
Fighting A Duck For My Pants And Winning (T)
This is not how Crowley wants the angel to see his pants.
Find Out How Much Love The World Can Hold (T)
“So I have successfully tempted you, right? Not going to come pick you up for dinner, and instead get roped into helping you unpack a bunch of new old books?”
Aziraphale clicked his tongue and hoped the telephone would make him sound disapproving rather than endlessly fond. “That was only the one time,” he said, “and it certainly taught me a lesson about asking you to help.”
“Exactly,” Crowley said easily. “Demon. Inherently unhelpful. Pick you up at nine, then?”
Win Condition (G)
By third period on February 14th, there were girls with paper hearts strung along their arms like bracelets, and boys with stacks of them spilling from their notebooks. Aziraphale, of course, was one of those who had won nothing at all.
Tender (adjective, verb, noun) (G)
“Now come on,” Adam said, “‘s only an hour and nineteen minutes till Wensleydale has to go home.”
The Them tumbled back outside as though they’d never quarreled. Aziraphale had come to know them fairly well since moving to Tadfield; like any children, they had their occasional disagreements, but this time had been more contentious than most. For a moment he’d halfway feared it might come to blows. Once he’d led them to a diplomatic solution, however, they seemed to forget the entire thing.
Dappled And Drowsy (G)
Crowley woke curled into a little ball near the edge of the bed. The room was filled with thin gray light, enough to suggest that it was probably about time to get up. Not that there was anywhere to be today, really. Day off from work, no schedule to keep. Nothing pressing at all. Still...
He cracked an eyelid. Eugh. Twelve minutes until the alarm was set to go off. Bollocks to that. He reached out into the cold air, thumbed the button to the off position, and half-dozed for about eleven minutes and forty-five seconds.
ineffablefool writes some Antonio Penn poetry (G)
Uhh. Well, this is a poem (entitled “Icarus Had It Easy”) + a ficlet of Aziraphale’s reaction to the poem, so the first poem lines are
I am no dove, high-flying,
Rising up to gain the Heavens.
Some bird more stygian, perhaps. Some graceless carrion-eater.
and then the first prose lines are
Crowley can tell something’s up as soon as he comes into the sitting room. Aziraphale is reading, same as usual, but there’s a dangerously soft smile on his lips, and it’s not a book in his lap but a yellowing pamphlet. The faded ink on the cover is almost faint enough to let Crowley pretend he doesn’t know exactly what it is.
An angel ruminates on change (G)
It’s amazing how different this lunch is from all the others they’ve shared, and yet it’s just as amazing how much it’s exactly the same. They weren’t supposed to have this, were they? There shouldn’t even have been a Ritz anymore.
But here it is, and here they are, each the constant of the other’s life. Nothing has changed.
Love Languages (T)
The first time Crowley saw the new QAer, his first thought was Tartan?
I feel like my beginning lines are very Crowley-centric.
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Hello again, this is the same anon from here
Honestly any fanfic would do, a series or one shot that seems to have really good writing. I've been trying to look for well written one shots for awhile on tumblr. My friend on here actually introduced me to your blog, they speak very highly of you. But other than your blog I did find people who write in detail but they're from another fandom sadly:(
A questio, do you know the self aware twisted wonderland AU? It's a very interesting AU. You should see the one shots made for the AU although they don't write in detail as much but their ideas for said AU is very interesting, nowadays most of the things being posted about the AU is all about writing letters to your favorite characters instead of one shots so that's why I was hoping you could give me a few recommendations:)
ohhhh i think i understand better now yes. and yes, i know about the self-aware AU! it was popular in the mysmes fandom too haha, it's a fun au for any game. i think a couple of writers have done their take on it so i don't really know who you're referring to or who did it first haha
regardless i guess i'll recommend fics (and honestly? just writers) i personally enjoy, and you can see if they're to your taste as well! or you can scroll through their masterlists yourself! and also this is my opportunity to talk about my talented mutuals oopsies
sorry for the tags pls forgive me hehe 🤗
i already talked about this in a post a few months ago, but i love anything written by @traumxrei-archive !! one of trau's leona fics titled "the shape of one's heart" is an easy new favorite of mine, i love character studies so much and screams and falls into a pit. and speaking of series! trau has a mini series based on fairy gala, fittingly named "the fairy gala collection"... and then and then just... trau's fics <3 heart eyes only!!
these are short but intimate... which makes sense because "fondness found amongst fleeting intimacy" [part 1 w/ idia, vil, mal, crewel] [part 2 w/ savanaclaw boys] by @twsthearts i just think about them every so often, the title itself enraptured me and i was just compelled to read and i had no regrets knox if u see this i adore ur writing sm i always feel like i'm reading one of my poetry books or the diaries of novelists excerpts from your works feel like they belong on a book, and then a pinterest girlie will be so in love they'll scan it and post it on their board
@twstedstoryshop hi okay so i'm going to admit i haven't finished shopkeep's full catalogue yet but i'm going to say "convenient marriage" (deuce historical AU) is probably my favorite bc i just... historical AUs, but i also enjoy "funny thing called fate" (azul soulmate AU) because i'm predictable and I think soulmate AUs are the best!!
@kaiijo ying...!!! such charming writing...! "magnetic" (azul frenemies to lovers) might be to your taste! although i am a simple human and the love triangle [part 1] [part 2] ones are my favorites dreamy sighing
i haven't actually read any of these yet (bc i want to binge all of them in one day oops) but since you mentioned series of one shots i thought of "the who does the prefect like" collab bc some of my (again, talented!) mutuals are participating in it i think it's worth checking out!
these are all i can think of right now off the top of my head that you might enjoy but if i think of more i'll reblog this!
anyway to whoever else is reading this feel free to recommend me some fics as well because i have not been reading a lot of fanfic lately hjsjsjsd i haven't had the time to finish my mutuals masterlists cries +++
i would love to follow more people ahhhh give me your recs <3
#—nathyask#—anonnie#and if you do enjoy those writers you can scroll through their blog for fics theyve reblogged as well!
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Night Storm Confrontation [mlm vampire/human]
No CWs/TWs apply I think - I mean, there’s blood in this, but this is about a vampire so of course, there’s blood in it
Set in the Runner Owen series I’m working on - this blog is dedicated to it, so if you like this, follow me!
--- --- ---
Outside, not a moon to be seen. The storm, a war between thunder and lightning, shook the fragile lives of those who witnessed it. In the castle high on the mountain, there was no danger from the elements, no risk of flooding, no fires to be caught from a rare and deadly bolt from the dark clouds overhead.
The Scarred Man stood in his library and watched the war lash rain like blood against his windows.
"Another horrible storm," he said. "Sweet Mother has lost her patience with her children again and we may all pay the price for it."
"Save the poetry for your sermons, master." Reds chided, his smile wry and fond in the light of the fire he tended. The vampire closed the gate, and did not flinch as the metal complained at the motion. With a soft grunt, he stood.
"Your presence will be wanted by the black moon back in the palaces," Reds continued.
A gentle reminder. He had a job to perform. The gods were even more patient than their children, but they desired to be appreciated like any other. Such was worship, such was service, such was their special religion. Few things brought the Scarred Man such joy.
"We will be ready for it," the Scarred Man said. "I will prepare for my duties and I am sure you and our fledglings will too."
"Without question," Reds said.
A door slammed open somewhere nearby, and both men snapped their heads towards the noise. Footsteps raced heavy on the old stone. Reds crossed the thick carpet to open the library door for the other servant.
The woman, her thick hair pressed wet against her head, leaned forward with her hands pressed against her breeches.
"Master," she gasped out. "Carriage. Humans traveling with a rider. They were in our territory -"
The Scarred Man stepped towards her.
"How many?"
"We've just found the rider. The carriage we're still trying to track. It's not normal, master. Something is wrong."
He rarely felt chills through his body, but in that moment, a cold wind rushed up his spine.
“Something must be wrong,” he said. “If they are entering my territory. Ready our mounts, I will go with you to confront them.”
---
His steed snorted black smoke and leaped into the air, billowing the water-shielded cloak around the Scarred Man as they soared from the castle. The dragonic flapped her wings, growled deep in her chest. The Scarred Man did not need the reins to control her. Together they dove down into the valley.
The Scarred Man pulled his hat down over his eyes, a flash of lightning far away illuminating his form in the night.
"They'll know we're coming," he mumbled. "They had to have known."
Ahead, another servant, on a smaller dragonic. She pointed to the west, and to the west he went. The humans had gone through the ravine, or at least, the rider had. No one knew the land like the Scarred Man, seen it from high above and walking in the dirt. Whoever the rider was, they would not get far.
Thunder growled over the flapping of his steed’s wings and the metallic strike of the rain on her scales. Below, he saw the rider. The lean beast the rider commanded had no wings, but a furious howl escaped it as his shadow fell overhead. A pale head turned up from beneath the shadow of the hood, too far away to see anything more than the shade of skin. Lightning flared through the clouds, and the rider forced his mount on faster.
“You will not get away from me, human,” the Scarred Man said to the air.
At the head of the ravine, the dragonic slammed down, digging her claws into the dark wet earth. She shrieked against the storm, and even the wind shuddered at the sound.
The beast and rider jerked to a stop, the dirt raising up against the beast’s paws. The dragonic howled again, its long tail lashing as it bent down its front haunches. The long muzzle bared its teeth, and the Scarred Man’s mount growled, her wings spreading wide and twitching.
The Scarred Man looked at the hands that held the dragonic’s reins. They shook, knuckles white, and red rinsed down them in the rain.
Red?
He breathed in.
Blood.
He hungered - but a moment passed, and he knew he hungered for far more than that.
Another flash of lightning, and the beneath the rider’s hood, the Scarred Man saw the face that matched the blood he smelled.
Owen Rosedown - the Runner.
“What are you doing here?” The Scarred Man whispered.
The Runner’s eyes burned, not just with defiance, but pain. He pulled one bloody hand away from the reins, and reached beneath the cloak. A flash of lightning danced on the reflective surface of the dagger
The Scarred Man laughed.
“That blade will not save you!” He called out through the storm. “You cannot fight like this!”
There was no reaction, not a single response. The Runner reached into the pack on the saddle of his steed. The pack, tied so tightly together with rope. The Scarred Man’s eyes narrowed.
He covered his eyes just in time. As the blade sliced through the ropes, an animal screamed. Light flashed behind his upraised arm. Wings full of feathers flapped in the dark, and his mount lunged.
The Scarred Man hit the ground before he could realize he’d been thrown off.
In the moment he lay stunned, the Runner dismounted. The Scarred Man heard the wet, almost sticky footsteps in the dirt approach him. The blood smelled sweet - with health, with pain.
He forced himself back to his feet.
Owen Rosedown stood before him, his lesser hand gripping his other arm. The cloak spread open wide, and the rain washed the blood of the faithful man into the dirt, a blessing in the name of the goddess he served.
The hand holding the dagger shook.
Owen’s legs shook.
He raised the blade.
It slipped from his hands.
The knife hit the earth, but the Runner did not. The Scarred Man was too fast.
Owen pressed his hands against the chest that held him close and still, and shook his head.
“Runner-” The Scarred Man said.
“No,” Owen said.
“Runner - human - Owen-”
Owen screamed. Thunder rolled and the whole forest recoiled around them, birds crying in the darkness alongside his voice. Tears flowed down the pale freckled cheeks, and the hand clutching the Scarred Man’s chest trembled.
The Scarred Man caught his lips, and swallowed all the despair as it emerged from Owen’s body.
And was it the despair that made him do it? Was it the surrender to inevitability? Was it the years of lessons about suffering, to understand the goddess who brought humans life?
Was it anything but instinct, that for the first time the Scarred Man could remember, Owen kissed back?
When they pulled apart, Owen’s clenched eyes relaxed, and his body sank into the Scarred Man’s arms. He was not dead. Exhausted, perhaps. But his heart did not rest within him, and the lifeblood poured out.
He would not let this one, so precious to him, die.
The Scarred Man looked towards the Runner’s mount. Still it was there, twitching, wet and infuriated, in the dark. He stood. The dragonic’s ears went back. It growled, and a thick tongue slipped from its muzzle to lick over its fangs.
The Scarred Man held Owen close to his chest, and did not waver.
“He will die,” the Scarred Man said, “If you do not let me help him.”
Intelligent eyes narrowed. The dragonic turned away, huffing smoke into the night. But it allowed him to approach, allowed him to place himself and Owen on its back. And when the Scarred Man took the reins, it let itself be led.
Servants watched at the entrance to the castle as the Scarred Man guided the beast up the road. One of them stepped up as he paused at the gate. Seeing the guest pressed against his chest, the man winced.
Owen exhaled.
“Aurum,” the Runner whispered.
Something in the Scarred Man’s body tightened.
“My Lord?” The servant asked. The Scarred Man raised his head. “What do you think is going on?”
Looking down at Owen, the Scarred Man narrowed his eyes.
“I think… there’s been a coup in the humanlands.”
#vampire fiction#vampire x human#vampcore#vampire aesthetic#gothic fiction#gothic horror#mlm vampire#mlm fiction#mlm#mlm writing#dark fantasy#dark fiction#human x vampire#written by coffee
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Tea and Books Asks
Tagged in by @littledreamling , @mathomhouse-e , and @quillingwords thank you!
1. What period of history do you enjoy learning about?
As long as it's not the fucking founding of America and drafting of the constitution, again, we're golden
2. Who is your favourite fictional character and why?
Of all time? Impossible. Current fandom specifically? ...uh. Kind of also impossible. But I think if pressed Hob might just barely edge out Dream in the standings. Because? Because...his vibes? Immortal Everyman who's not all woe-is-me this-life-is-misery is a delight and idk he's just got that je ne sais quoi that makes me smile and say 'That one, that's my favorite'?
3. What do you order at a café?
It's a rare occurrence but. Some sort of coffee, extra sweet, extra whichever flavor added. Caramel and pumpkin spice are both excellent
4. Libraries, botanical gardens, or art galleries?
Of the three, I've only ever been to libraries, so, that
5. Do you have a favourite film soundtrack?
Beauty and the Beast 1991 probably. The score tracks on that just. Do things to me. Fond of a lot of Hans Zimmer's work as well (Lion King, PotC off the top of my head) and I keep circling back around to the Robin Hood Prince of Thieves soundtrack every few years
6. What does your dream home look like?
Underwater. With bits above water too, maybe half and half, but the important things I've always wanted are submarine airlock entryways and enormous windows with an underwater view. Not too far from civilization either
7. What makes you feel better on gloomy days?
Long solo drives with good music played loud
8. What are your top three films? Books?
Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home; The Princess Bride; Beauty and the Beast
I've read fanfic almost exclusively the past twenty years but, let me think...I was very taken with the Shannara series by Terry Brooks in high school; I spent some time on the Vampire Chronicles after that and The Vampire Armand was my favorite (because Armand was my favorite more than because it was actually a good book)
9. Are you an organized person, generally?
...Ish. I dislike clutter and mess, but I wouldn't really classify myself as 'organized' by any standard measure of the word
10. Do you have a favourite classic novel?
...I am extremely fond of Alice in Wonderland and Wizard of Oz both but more for their permutation into pop culture and malleability therein than for their actual books specifically
11. What character archetype or trope is your favourite?
I have a laundry list, and they're generally best when multiple tropes are blended in one character. But maybe...let's go with The Foreigner, The Outsider, the one who often holds up a lens to humanity or whatever majority/default group is involved to offer commentary, try to understand, and who is perpetually Apart from them, usually unable (or unwilling) to quite blend in or assimilate completely even when they may be welcomed and accepted.
12. Do you prefer baking or cooking?
...give me a relatively simple recipe with clear instructions and I'll probably be okay, in either arena
13. Which season do you feel at home in?
In my current climate? Summer. Summer means I can get out and go places and do things. I love autumn in theory but in practice it's far too short, far too cold too quickly, and just a very depressing reminder of the half-a-year of winter that will follow
14. What is your opinion on poetry?
It should absolutely exist, integral facet of humanity, etc. Not really anything I actively seek out, however
15. Do you speak formally when texting and emailing?
Emails are nearly always business related whether home or work, so yes. Texts are not exactly formal but it's rare that I'd ever fail to capitalize, use copious abbreviations, etc. Punctuation droppage depends entirely on who I'm talking to and whether I need the clarity punctuation can provide
16. How do you organize your music playlists?
Haaaaaah. Let me count the ways:
- by artist, when I want The Good Tracks from their discography (and related projects) in chronological order
- by genre
- by pairing - many pairs have multiple permutations of their playlist also
- by character
- by character group
- by theme (e.g. Moon, Aquatic, etc)
- by mood
- by fic inspiration/writing soundtrack
- I have playlists for Disney movies where I put the songs and score pieces back in movie order since the soundtracks always group them separately and I also leave out the shitty radio versions of the songs
- I also have a playlist with all my individual Disney playlists combined in chronological order by movie release date
- by vibes
- by which family member I'm driving with
- I have a playlist for stuff that's in (or contains sections that are in) 3/4, 6/8, and various other non-4/4 time signatures
- I have a couple different playlists of favorite voices
- there's a giant playlist where I dump all the stuff I've rated 4 or 5 stars (some 3s may also get included), sorted by play count, for when I don't know quite what I'm really in the mood to listen to
- aaaaaaand then I usually have two or three playlists in constant flux for whatever I'm really craving to listen to at this particular point in time
17. Who is your favourite author?
Can't say as I have one
18. Chai or hot chocolate?
Chai
19. Do you prefer forests, sea shores, or meadows?
Sea shore, hands down
20. If you were to cultivate a fruit orchard, what would you grow?
Everything I would name I have developed allergies to so. Maybe not. Kinda sucks.
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once again being driven crazy by how much this is a mob psycho song im literally going to EXPLODE. PLEASE LISTEN AND SHARE MY VISION BEFORE I BLOW UP INTO A MILLION PIECES.
youtube
some of my expanded thoughts on this under da cut
My grip on my secrets slipping while I'm speaking in tongues / Screaming at the top of my lungs in the confession booth / Take it with a pillar of salt
now i’m trying to picture this in my head as like. an amv where it kind of just recaps the entire show and goes in order of events. that being SAID this would fit REALLY well with reigen in the separation and/or confession arc but the trouble is this is the very first verse. maybe i could start at the end and loop it back around? but either way this verse is extremely reigencore
The devil made me do it, but I also kinda wanted to / I'm cut from a different kind of meat / More than you can chew, hard to swallow me / Forget bored stiff, I got rigor mortis, call it morbid curiosity how I / Cannot commit to reality, when my third eye's open and I like what I see / Baby, I may be crazy but I didn't lose it, no I set it free
^ this is the mindset of almost every esper that mob has faced up against and i’m also kind of fond of “the devil made me do it but i also kind of wanted to” specifically referring to ritsu and dimple. i think this would kind of quickly run through the season 1 arcs antagonist beatdowns
I can't ignore what's under dance floorboards / The rhythm of my heart a dead-as-disco beat / But I still move my feet to slip out of this groove, I'm free / Now, to row, row, row my boat over the falls / And maybe wake up from but a dream, yeah
mogami arc speedrun
i would then maybe edit the instrumental break and chorus to go thru the next 2 arcs of season 2 and lead us into season 3 which sadly means that there’s barely any focus on them but they at least get a mention. might actually edit the instrumental break to be a little longer so it’s not so rushed
If you knew what I knew, if you saw what I see / You'd look through illusions, hallucinations, and lucid dream / And I know that meaning can be such a pretty thing to keep / But I got facts and I'm not afraid to use 'em / Take the good with the bad, take off the back you make a new front
divine tree arc speedrun
But I'm more level-headed and clever than ever / And I'm getting better one forever at a time, and if / Sick is defined by what's different, well then pull the plug out and let me die
you know how right before mob gets hit by a car he’s recollecting about how much he’s changed? and then he does get hit by that car? i have this VISION in my head and the crater forms right on that beat at the end of this verse.
Vice-versa vice versus virtue, well who I am I choose through all the things I do / And if it rhymes, it's true - but I hate poetry / Now with my moral compass pointing south, going down / With no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no respect for reality
shigeo vs mob
and then the rest of the song takes us through the end of the arc and the very last shot is of mob laughing at reigen’s party :-)
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long ask (AGAIN) hey its seoksoonhoon anon (so you can put a name to words)
i just needed ur input on this. (not limited to seoksoonhoon but i probably will eventually make this about seoksoonhoon especially because i had this new discovery where im convinced japanese is their love language (see: soonyoung asking jihoon to live in japan with him. see: seokmin going "i love you jihoon" in japanese and soonyoung saying "i love him too". seoksoon wooahaeing behind woozi in japan behind film.)
i just cant help but think about soonyoung and him wanting to just hold someone's hand 25/8. the moment he stands beside someone (coughs SEOKMIN) he has a tendency to always hold their hand or bump his shoulder against said person or grab some part of their body etc. hand on shoulder. wanting someone's hand on shoulder. wanting head pats and stomach rubs (also because seokmin gets stomach rub privileges which he thinks is very unfair.) grabbing jihoon's wrist after he finishes peeling a prawn for seokmin and licking off the sauce on his fingers because Leave No Sauce Behind but also jihoon is fond and lets him do it but also because it's familiar and comforting. his presence and all. and also i just feel like man needs something to channel all his overflowing energy into at any given moment.
movement to me is hoshi's love language?? how he expresses feelings?? in a way. like it's the way he works (i said vision is jihoon's and sound is seokmin's) (just. jihoon not looking at soonyoung sometimes because he's the brightest star in the sky and maybe. maybe jihoon is undeserving of this beauty but also he's so so deserving and he knows that when soonyoung lifts his face so they look each other in the eye and they break out into fits of laughter or something.) (and also how seokmin feels so deeply and greatly for music through his covers, through hearing woozi's guide audios like "this is how i should portray the emotion of this line" and "the emotion in the singing of this line" and also hearing soonyoung hum or himself hum random melodies in the middle of the night)
movement i think is about naturalness and familiarity. and getting so much enjoyment out of it. and it shows. like he'll creep up behind wonwoo while he's gaming (for the snwuists ily yall are very cool too) and knows how important it is and will merely put a supportive hand on his shoulder and when he loses the match there's a backhug because it's familiar. he dances and breathes and loves and hugs and touches because it's familiar. he also goes to the gym with jihoon and wonwoo (soonwonhoon is not a bad concept at all) or hits seok's butt or grabs seok's thigh or lies down beside seok naked because it's familiar. et cetera.
feelings feel realer when on text and paper because i just know its not as big of a deal as i ever make it out to be. for all i know (i do know) this could be all the members but i just feel it a lot more for hoshi with his passion for dance and general antics aka vibrating & jumping on the floor when he gets excited
(if i was a stronger person i would be able to resist the temptation of my beloved seoksoonhoon. alas i am not enough to stand on my own against this. uhm. here we go.)
seoksoonhoon in japan. i want to see seokmin grilling meat for jihoon and soonyoung and soonyoung yelling SEXY HAN NAMJA again because we all know it is very important. i want soonyoung and seokmin to do the dramatic grab-each-other-by-the-neck-and-lean-in-teasingly thing under sakura trees while jihoon takes a picture. i want jihoon belting to anime OSTs while watching anime on his phone with seoksoon pulling a soonwoo when they were watching vocal unit hug live performance. hand on chest and all. i want jihoon reciting his attempts at japanese lyrics (poetry) to seokmin at night in bed while stomach rubs (jihoon stomach rubs are a frequent seokmin-exclusive occurance by the way). i want so badly for soonyoung to purse his lips to look like the taiyaki (fish red bean pancake) and jihoon keeled over from laughing while seokmin poses with his own taiyaki. i want seokmin to smooch soonyoung's taiyaki and soonyoung whining about "give me a kiss too!". i want jihoon to get a polaroid camera and learn all the photography tricks from seokmin so he too can capture the beauty of life in its visual form and paste them in a collage. i want them to come back from japan and get tackled by the rest of the members going "when is it our turn" "be our tour guides" "ok deal room service next japan concert we split into 4-5 groups so everyone can take advantage of the member who knows japanese")
..... these night time thoughts should belong in a google doc or blog post some time. not now though i spent too long typing this. my impulse control is daytime + shining (diamond) responsibilities. it is not daytime.
oh my! honestly, I still owe you a reply on the ask you reblogged. but let me respond to this first.
omg the "I love him" and "I love him too" public declaration lives forever rent-free in my mind! soonyoung just finding it absolutely necessary to be a part of the "we love jihoon" discussion is truly something so soonyoung. and him asking jihoon to spend a year in Japan with him -- I have definitely incorporated this bit into a fic that is how obsessed I am.
I'm with you on the hand-holding there. 100%. also he wants to link arms soooooooo badly. when he stands next to anybody and sees an opening he'd just slip his arm around theirs like. the man has Touchy Disease. and yes of course who doesn't envy seokhoon belly rubs when the one time we get soonhoon on top of each other (in the soop) jihoon practically kicked soonyoung away? lol. no I have to acknowledge they had a moment where their heads were put together watching something on soonyoung's phone and that was. sweet. and intimate. (let's not forget "jagiya" and "you're back?")
wow -- you assigning a sense to each one of them is so. brilliant! soonyoung being tactile / jihoon visual / seokmin auditory... perfect. thinking about bumzu sharing the story of how they created highlight, soonyoung explaining the gist of the song he wants through movements. also how excited he was to tell jihoon when he wrapped up the choreography for spider. oftentimes there i's something deliberate about the way he moves and touch. paying attention to angles is one, only reserving his lips for his members even when he's drunk another. but then you see him vibrating on his feet whenever he gets excited (refer to power of love when jihoon did wooahae and he just absolutely lost it)...hm I need to lie down.
headcanon: jihoon sometimes asks seokmin to sing him a lullaby and its both a privilege and an honour seokmin treasures the most. the reward is obviously infinite belly rubs <3
!!!!! sexy han namja !!!!! is crazy when you think about soonyoung falling in love with a local chef because "he looked so handsome" and him wanting to be a chef because of that. @ God, the men you put on this earth to hunt for food and build homes are falling to their knees at the sight of a capable mate providing nutrition LMAOOO. and nooo imagine them acting out the grandpa grandma skit again with pink leaves falling around them and jihoon's just! completely endeared! I honestly think that whenever jihoon starts singing, seoksoon would just drop everything they're doing to listen to him because that's their man! and they want to hear what he has to say, even if that means watching a 6-hr live on the tooniverse :<
the collage would be so cute because I do think jihoon would be a fan of hand-crafted or personalised gifts. he made a song for seungkwan's birthday and treasures the ones given to him a lot: mic from soonyoung, which he used to record, may I remind you, versace on the floor kljshdlkghdlksjhfg (we need a full cover holyshit) and hoodie from wonwoo.
HAHAHA lol well if it helps I'll tag our asks as seoksoonhoon so if you ever want an archive you can find them easily on my blog. p.s. best pairing thoughts often come after 9 PM when you're avoiding thinking about real life and just wants to indulge yourself in some fantasies. <3
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this post will self-destruct at some point
i do think that the fundamental source of this is just that I am extremely fucking exhausted but like. really right now feeling weirdly uncertain about my future plans. this year has been ... a lot more challenging so far than last year, and a lot less full of the wild joy that characterized my first semester at grad school. instead i am just feeling – constantly exhausted, like I have to drag myself to and through all of my responsibilities, and the only thing I feel even a small measure of excitement about is my research project for the semester, which I also feel like I barely have time for because of everything else I have to do.
and there's so many things compounding this, I think – like, this year i have not felt at all fond of my seminar classes despite it being Greek poetry year (in part I think because they are enormous in size – 18 in the Latin seminar! for context, my first semester here there were 6, and 4 were grad students! – and as a result of that feel like they are targeted much more toward the undergrads, and aren't challenging me or holding my interest like they could); we're not reading anything I'm wildly interested in this semester; my favorite professor, who was a major motivator in my desire to stay here for my MA, has been out for three semesters on a combination of medical leave and sabbatical; I'm teaching on my own again, which I did both semesters of last year and over the summer (and I want a break!! I like teaching but trying to do it on top of all my own classes is just feeling like so much right now! I've never gotten a chance to just TA and honestly I would love that!).
it's understandable that I feel exhausted but like. I contemplate PhD apps and I don't feel excited just ... tired. I don't want to wait any longer to do this – I'm already going to be well into my 30s when I graduate with a PhD and I don't want to delay myself any longer – but I also don't want to set myself on a course of misery and possible failure because I haven't given myself any recovery time. (I do know I want to do the PhD, that doesn't feel like a question, I just ... kind of want to take a year off or something first, I don't know.)
anyway, tl;dr: uuuuuugggggghhhhhhhhhh. I will delete this post eventually but wanted to vent first.
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4, 14, 32, 38
Hey nonnie!
This gets long, so slipping under a cut:
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
Feral in a good way: Alpenglow. It delights me that there is a word for this natural phenomenon and aesthetic, and it's probably the apotheosis of my fondness for clangy compound words. Overwatch. Payload. Aftermarket. All so good! Such rhythm and mouthfeel! As someone who sometimes struggles with paring concepts into parts, I get a kick out of inventing compound words for SW fic, especially when I can get a little figurative. #makekenningscoolagain
Feral in a bad way: pretty much all words that end in -ious. They make awful adverbs and just look like words that are trying too hard? I avoid using them if possible.
14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?
I don’t have many regular meatspace acquaintances who’d want any of the books I have. Besides, I believe in marginalia. It’s embarrassing enough having my partner encounter dirty emojis next to dialogue in Pride & Prejudice. Also, most of my books are non-fiction and kept for reference purposes; I’m not loaning them out. Books I am happy parting with go to charity.
32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?
Poetry: While I can recite La Belle Dame Sans Merci, I remember it more for the prettiness of its archaic words than because it’s especially poignant for me.
Novel:
“For like a shaft clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the shadow was but a small and passing thing. There was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.”
Return of the King, JRR Tolkien
I reread the LotR about the same time I started really losing the religion of my youth and climbing out of an inarticulable depression I’d known since early childhood. It’s not that LotR supplanted my religion — though revisiting Middle Earth always feels like a religious experience — but its central messages did. Obviously Tolkien’s Christianity influenced the trilogy’s themes; but I cling to those stories of faith and hope when despair might be easier not because I needed to believe in some external power that was better than all humanity, but because I had begun to believe better of the humanity of all people. That may be obvious to someone not raised in a fundamentalist hellhole, but god, that realization was exactly like what Sam felt looking up to the stars in Mordor. "There is good in this world", etc. etc.
Also, that’s such an exciting use of "pierced." We feel the heartache without the word 'heart', and there is very much a hurt to happiness when everything around you is awful.
Anyway, I nearly got this quote tattooed in Tengwar. (And after all, why not? :p)
Fanfic: SO MANY.
This unforgettable first flush of Foxiyo from wish there was a treaty by tiend:
“I want to kiss you,” he said, astonished at the depths of his presumption.
“Oh,” said Riyo Chuchi. “Oh. Yes.”
This beautiful erotic moment from mésalliance by tiend:
Fox knew what heated her blood, for his was a conflagration. He bore her to the bed, and learned that the lady Chuchi might brace her heels on the fine linen sheets to meet his thrusts, and twine her arms around his neck to draw him down that she might kiss him, and utter soft sighs and pants of encouragement until she trembled against him in her release. So passed the night, and much of the following day in a surfeit of bliss.
This perfect description of Sev from More than Armor by kungfu_slippers (tbh, Slip's Sev is always just A++++):
Sev. Stoic and rigidly contained. A surge of who-knows-what, a violent flavor his tongue remembered, when he lay there at night running it over his teeth. The one person he didn’t want knowing he was like this — an invalid. A wretched hole in his squad. The one person he desperately wanted at his door, anyway.
This on-point introduction to Delta (vs Omega) from Serviced by kungfu_slippers:
Neimoidians weren’t commando sized, and Sev found the whole ship a bit tight for his liking. Especially with the mongrel squad aboard. It would have been tolerable—if Scorch quit bouncing around the cabin—except that eight men made twice as much noise as four, and Atin’s face was pissing him off every time he turned around. It was enough to ruin Sev’s breakfast on a good day, and Boss was well aware.
This scene from I'm gonna love you with my hands tied by kaasknot that manages to be emblematic of clone culture, the entirety of RepComm, and kaa's gift of narrative in a few lines:
Corr was different, and not because of a cool scar or a tattoo or a haircut he’d chosen to get. He was different in the bad kind of way, the way that no clone wanted to be.
Skirata came around the corner just then, and he couldn’t miss the weighted tension in the room, nor Corr standing in the center of it. He certainly didn’t miss the prostheses that began where Corr’s flesh ended. The look he gave Corr was—it looked like pity, but more proprietary. Corr had never wanted synthskin before, but beneath Skirata’s gaze, he wanted it very badly.
This Ordo quote and Besany's reaction from Off the Books by nottonyharrison:
“Show me how to make it good for you… please.” Not a question. A statement of intent.
This moment of interiority that is unbelievably perfect for a character who has no POV in the original text, from The Secret-Keeper's Club by variative:
Are you scared? Laseema thought. She was perfectly unsure about how it made her feel. Soldier boy, are you scared of me?
38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?
I think I answered this here when talking about the pile of reference papers I must have on hand. But recently I encountered a post describing the concept of “pre-writing” and it actually helped me reframe my need to read random reddit threads and revisit old notes before writing from "weird" to "not unheard of".
(Cannot begin to speculate on the inner life of cats. Their inscrutability is part of their charm.)
Weird Writer Asks
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n's july delights!
in an attempt to forge a time capsule of the things i enjoy, here is my first try: a recap of my july! includes: a personal recap, books, and films/shows. i wanted to include comics, as well as music and poetry, but the length already more closely resembles an amateur's attempt at an editorial piece than a wrap-up written by someone who actually knows what they're doing—so maybe next time.
PERSONAL RECAP
i wanted to savour the saturday night of summer (as august is its sunday night; and yes, i am stating this now, and i am still planning on repeating it for august’s wrap-up!) the best i could. i can’t say for sure whether i was successful, but the month kicked off with a trip to bali, and shortly after my return, i took another trip to bogor! lovely were the people in bali, and lovely were the sights to see in bogor. we took a historical tour bus in bogor, something i had never done before, and our tour guide was an old man who spoke with so much certainty that my mom and i were certain he’d been there himself; he talked about the pool parties in the 18th century like he was present to see the dutch cannonball into (what is now known as) the oldest swimming pool in bogor. my mom thought he was just old, but i was positive he was a vampire.
he must’ve heard our conversation, because out of nowhere, he clarified he was fifty-five. mom was mortified. we bumped into him again at a mini-market after the tour. i was stocking up on snacks and masks; he only brought with him a bottle of water, and he stood directly in front of me at the line for the cashier. he recognized my family and my stepdad paid for his drink. (until now, my family and i all think the hotel—who had hosted the tour—should have bought him a bottle of water too, given as they’d included a snack (a hot dog that wasn’t a hot dog) and water for the people taking the tour. so why not the tour guide, too?)
BOOKS
this was such a delightful month! i had a reading slump that began in march (or was it february? i should have kept a diary), and i’m happy to say i’ve gotten back into the swing of things! i eased myself back into reading by starting off with a middle grade book (it was r.l. stine—i started the month with a taste for horror), and i’ve adopted a new reading principle: to read whatever i want to. it’s an obvious tip, one i really should have employed years ago, but i’ve always had an issue re: picking up books that actually interest me vs. reading what other people like even when they aren’t my cup of tea. i wasn’t afraid (okay, maybe i was a little scared) to try reading books i couldn’t get through before too—some books deserve second chances—and i managed to this time. more than that, i loved them! there are books you can’t get through because they really aren’t for you, and then there are books you stumbled upon when it wasn’t the right time. and re-discovering them again, when the time is right and the stars have aligned, is nothing short of wonderful.
if you check out any of the books, please heed their trigger warnings!
THE MAJESTIES by TIFFANY TSAO
why-dunnit. a girl in a coma, with nothing else better to occupy her time, retraces her memories to understand why her sister murdered their entire family. set in jakarta, and i know i’m biased, but i am fond of books that aren’t set in north america or western europe. this left me reeling.
REBECCA by DAPHNE DU MAURIER
if i knew how to write like du maurier, i would never stop writing. everything about this book is iconic. the prose? top notch. she was so good at painting a vivid image of everything that was happening while staying on theme; there was a sense of eeriness to the writing, even in the story’s lighter moments. this is about a girl (we never find out her name) who has recently become the new mistress of manderley. unfortunately for her, unpleasant things await, most of them borne from the ghost of her husband’s dead wife’s memory. a ghost story, even in the absence of a literal ghost.
HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE by DIANA WYNNE JONES
this was my first diana wynne jones book! i am one of the many whose first exposure to howl’s moving castle was the ghibli movie. i still love the movie, don’t get me wrong, but if there was a way i could time travel to my childhood and give little me a copy of the book, i would. it’s not a slight against the movie at all; i just wonder how i would have grown up had diana wynne jones been one of my childhood companions. this book is a perfect example that you don’t need a complicated magic system for a book to be magical. in fact, i think it’s one of the most magical things i’ve ever read. sophie gets cursed and turns into an old lady, and seeks refuge as well as answers at the wizard howl’s moving castle. there, she befriends the fire demon calcifer, howl’s apprentice michael, and even howl himself.
WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE by SHIRLEY JACKSON
as you can probably tell, i had a bit of a gothic kick. this story is as haunting as it is eccentric. our narrator, mary catherine blackwood (merricat), lives in a big house with what is left of her family: her cat, her sister, and her uncle. the rest are dead. the townspeople hate them, and she hates them right back. things start to change when their cousin, charles, moves in with them. i feel like this is one of the books where the less you know about it, the better, but if you want to know what the book is about; i think, most of all, it is about isolation. (also: constance and merricat are one of my favourite sisters in literature.)
EMMA by JANE AUSTEN
remember what i said about picking up books that previously came at the wrong time? this is one of them. i can’t remember exactly when i first tried reading emma, but what matters is i did eventually try reading it again, and this time, i loved it! emma woodhouse is... she’s everything to me. she is an icon. a legend. she is the moment, one of the first ever it girls #ToMe. it is likely a familiar story (hello, clueless?), but seeing emma constantly be off the mark about matchmaking, the exact thing she claims is her talent (and to be fair, it’s not like she has a god-awful track record), is hilarious. i just know jane austen was giggling and kicking her feet writing some of this. what appealed the most to me was not the romance, but emma herself. you just can’t help but root for her!
REPUTATION by LEX CROUCHER
this is mean girls meets gossip girl but regency. honestly, this was probably the funniest book i read this month, but it’s not just fun and games—it has its moments when it gets dark, so please, look up the trigger warnings if you decide to read it. our protagonist, georgiana, has been sent to stay with her aunt and uncle over the season by her absent parents. she finds it dull, but is saved from her boredom by frances campbell, wealthy socialite and trouble magnet. frances adopts georgiana into her group of friends, introducing her to a world of opulence, splendour, and debauchery.
STEERING THE CRAFT by URSULA K. LE GUIN
i confess: though i claim to be a writer, i barely read writing books. but, if you want to read a book on writing at least once in your life, i could not recommend ‘steering the craft’ enough. le guin was a master of her craft, and this book is pretty much my new holy scripture. she gives advice without sounding patronizing, and this book just makes writing feel so... accessible? she shares her opinions on some of the more popular writing tips and it’s just... wow (active vs. passive voice comes to mind). i don’t think i can summarize it and do it justice. the book has writing exercises, too!
FILMS/SHOWS
EMMA (2020) dir. AUTUMN DE WILDE
i’m pretty sure this was the only movie i watched in july that i actually liked, and it wasn’t even a first watch! there is just something very comforting about emma (2020). watching it in july counted more as a re-watch, but it was my first time watching it after reading the source material, so it was an entirely different experience, too. this movie is warm and hopeful, and it feels like a hug and a steaming cup of tea on a rainy day. also it has anya taylor-joy, and can you really go wrong with anya taylor-joy? if anything, watch it to see the scene where she gets a nosebleed on cue.
SUCCESSION by JESSE ARMSTRONG
i could write an essay on succession, but i doubt i would have anything new to contribute. if you've never seen the show yourself, you're probably going to think there's something wrong with me, but listen. listen. i know this show is about rich people and stocks and business with snippets of dialogue that sounds like it came from a stan twt sentence generator, but it is also: a shakesperean tragedy, and the depth of it only continues to unravel as we progress further and further into the show. the acting is amazing. the directing, too, and the writing is one of the best i've ever seen on television. it's game of thrones if game of thrones was set in a modern day, corporate structure. these characters are not good people. they're rich assholes who have no idea how the real world works. but they're human, and they're three-dimensional; they're interesting, they're tragic, and they're so compelling you can't help but to keep watching, whether you want to see them fail or succeed.
#monthly wrap up#book recs#i feel hesitant about tagging this as film or show rec as i only have one of each lol#so maybe not!#book recommendations
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In the realm of historical things that could have been true and therefore I am choosing to believe they are absolutely canonical:
Stede has a book of John Donne's poetry.
And he likes it, of course he likes it, it's got a bounce to it, an immediacy, a directness that Stede finds wondrously freeing in the midst of the social nuances he seems to constantly be tripping over. That might be part of why Donne's terribly out of fashion, come to think of it-- being so fond of his work hasn't exactly done Stede any favors.
But. Well. It's not just the tone, or its easy approach. It's... when he was younger, he rather thought that the way Donne described love and, and country matters... he thought that's how it would really be, when it happened for him. When he fell in love and-- other things.
Stede's not sure what love is supposed to feel like, not really-- and so when Donne describes it as if it is to find a hermitage in someone, and she in him; to look into some girl's eyes, and feel the whole world's soul contract... surely that's worth waiting for? Worth seeking out?
But years pass and he's not trying to avoid getting married, he's looking for love, but it... it just doesn't seem to be happening for him. If there's a girl out there who can wake his soul, he hasn't met her, and if there's a girl who carries a world within her perfectly matched to one in him, she must be on some hemisphere too remote for Stede to ever reach.
So maybe Donne is the reason he tarries so long that his father just takes the choice from him. And when he meets Mary, she's nice enough, but... it's not like the poetry, not at all, and he feels like an idiot for thinking it could have been.
It doesn't stop him from picking up the book again and again over the years, though. Looking for the metaphor he must have missed. Stede likes poetry, but he knows he's not particularly clever about it; he thought he'd found something he could understand without interpretation when he'd first come across the book, fifteen years old and about to leave one horror show (England) for another (his father)-- but no, that must've been wrong too.
Eventually he picks out meaning here and there, and latches on to each he finds. (Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone.) The sea. That's something easier to picture than finding love. (Teach me to hear mermaids singing.) He imagines adventures, wonders.
(What merchant's ships have my sighs drowned?)
He imagines piracy.
(Whoever rigged fair ships to lie in harbors?)
He imagines leaving.
.
.
The flip of this, is that when he finds Ed--
(Though he knew not which soul spake, because both meant, both spake the same--)
--the words make sense again--
(Some man unworthy to be possessor of old or new love, himself being false or weak--)
--but too late.
.
.
It takes longer than it should, and brings more pain and heartbreak than he'd known was possible to hold inside one body, but still-- they're here now. And just being in the haggard Blackbeard's presence is enough to give Stede hope that things will turn out all right eventually.
Granted, Blackbeard is currently unconscious and recovering from no less than three bullet wounds in the captain's cabin of Stede's stolen sloop. So. There might be some difficulty when he heals enough to wake up fully. That's a problem for future-Stede, he supposes.
He doesn't want to disturb Blackbeard, but, well-- he's not made to be quiet in this man's presence. He thinks he might read aloud, though quietly and with very few voices, to pass the time and comfort Blackbeard's dreams, but they haven't any books on board except the logs. This in turn reminds Stede of some of the things he'd heard about the library on the Revenge-- and he feels a sad pinch at the thought of his old book of poetry gone too, for all that he'd memorized his favorites years ago...
Memorized. Hm.
Stede -- sprawled out in the chair by Blackbeard, tired, heartsick, fearful of some infection or imbalance that will take away any hope of reconciliation and desperate to ignore that possibility -- clears his throat.
.
.
Blackbeard, for his part, hears some things.
A familiar voice, but hushed almost to a whisper, too like the memory of sunsets. Just that would be a hurtful enough hallucination to make Blackbeard want to dive deeper into this darkness until it finally lets him drown, except--
Except that the voice is saying some... interesting things. That need more thorough investigation.
Like when he surfaced long enough to feel a brush untangling his hair, the soft scent of orange flowers returned and ruining him, and the voice saying in lilting tones, Nature drew those magic circles in your eyes, and made your hair the chains with which she ties rebelling hearts.
Like when he felt a hand touch his, a clasp both tentative and testing, and he swam up and up through the black mire until he was close enough to hear, Wilt thou then say now that we are not those persons which we were?
Like when-- staying as near wakefulness as he could manage in the darkness, waiting for these moments and studying each one-- he felt his wounds checked, his blankets arranged, the tired voice still there and close and not close enough, saying By these hymns, all shall approve us canonized for love, and thus invoke us: You, whom reverend love made one another’s hermitage. You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage; who did the whole world’s soul contract, and drove into the glasses of your eyes-- and made such mirrors--
Ed says, not sure if he can be heard in the dark, "What does it mean?"
The voice pauses, and in that pause the whole sea begins to lighten, like the sun has come out after months of night, and Ed feels a sudden strength he thought he'd lost give him the chance to rise up, and up, and up--
"It means," says Stede, as run-ragged as the day they'd met and staring wide-eyed at him and here, fucking here, "it means-- I don't know what it means. I'm not very-- I used to think it meant one thing, and then maybe it didn't, and--"
Ed says, "You learned it anyway?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
And Stede says, "I love you" and kisses his cheek with hard, trembling certainty-- which wasn't exactly the answer Ed was expecting, but he'll take it, fuck, he'll take it all.
.
.
(Much, much later -- and what was really the point of this little plot bunny until "feelings" got in the way -- Stede discovers that even more of Donne's poetry is relevant to his interests, particularly in light of the sounds Ed makes when Stede backs him up against their cabin door and between deep, drugging kisses murmurs, License my roving hands and let them go...)
#our flag means death#ofmd#john donne#so much sex poetry#stede bonnet#don't worry your book is hiding in the auxiliary closet#edward teach#ed teach#blackbeard#doesn't necessarily follow what's going on in the more metaphysical pieces#but he can *definitely* tell when a poem's about sex Stede#and these poems? FILLED with it#free plot bunnies#if you write it link it#do the thing#stede bonnet's theoretical library
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