#popstrings

[ragedagainst]

@popstr , continued from here :

after a lifetime of cutting ties and striking it out on her own, it's difficult for jyn to remember that she actually has a handful of people that care about her now. but years of not having close connections have shaped her into a poor communicator ; she very rarely remembers to reply to any text messages, let alone start a conversation herself. luckily, simeon sommerfeld doesn't seem to have that same problem, and doesn't seem to mind, either, when she reads his messages and promptly forgets about it a few minutes later. over the past few months, she's gotten good at deciphering him through words and emojis without the added benefits of facial and body language –– and recently, she's noticed a difference. for the most part, he's his usual self, but something's off. whenever she actually responds, asking if he's free, he carefully avoids the question or gives a practiced excuse. after it'd happened more than once, she'd grown suspicious ; irritated by the way he's clearly avoiding her ( and worried for her friend, though she'd never admit that ), jyn decides to face the issue head on and confront him about it.

after seeing the glowing reviews on his broadway debut, she'd planned on coming over anyway to congratulate him on it. she's yet to see the show –– she's not much for theater, especially not when tickets cost that much –– but this is important to him. with a fist full of a bouquet of flowers she'd bought from the corner store on the way over, she lets herself into his apartment with her key, announcing a bit too late, just in case –– " i'm coming in ! "

intent on confronting him for ignoring her, she hadn't expected the scene in front of her. it looks like simeon hasn't moved in days. flipping on the lights in the living room, she frowns, eyebrows furrowing ; she points at him with the bouquet of flowers accusingly, a few petals falling off from the severity of her motion. " you look like you haven't moved all day, " she retorts. " the hell's wrong with you ? " she grimaces almost as soon as she says it, the words sounding more aggressive than she'd intended. instead of speaking again and digging herself further into a hole, she pauses, observing the scene around her. the still-folded newspaper on the table, unopened, underneath a bag of chips, the way simeon's nearly buried underneath a mound of blankets, the way he deflects and barely rises up to her bait. she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes softening. she's not good at this but she owes it to him to try. " what happened ? did someone say something or –– ? "

[chrissturnsfav]

WOULD POPSTR!READER WRITE LOVE LOOKS PRETTY BY NESSA BAREET ABOUT RAPPER!CHRIS??!??!??! it’s unreleased so u might have to find it on SoundCloud on TikTok but I need answers PLEASE

FUCK YES i love love love love looks pretty SO MUCH, i’ve been dying for nessa to release it !!

she 10000% would write that about chris and he’d admire her in a trance when she performs it on stage

[survivall]

RP TIERLIST !

tagged by: no one, I stole it tagging: @yllowpages, @quinfamy, @hyperionhero, @luminour, @americanedpsycho, @embodies, @popstr, and you!

[sagastrings]

We’re so excited!! “When Doves Cry” is out for pre-order on ITunes and all major streaming platforms as well as pre-save on #Spotify! You can get it before it officially comes out March 16th🎉💥🎻 . Link in bio . . @ginnyluke @rachelgraceviolin @eyehavewingz @adrienne_woods #whendovescry🕊 #whendovescry #stringquartet #newmusic #prince4ever #musicgenius #popstrings #stringarrangement #livestrings (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9mjn1cgVae/?igshid=1dxcj1hh8ghe

[crimewrought]

“ all i’ve ever done is hide. ”   @popstr​​​.   accepting.

   her kitchen’s a virtual powderkeg of aromas,   boasting such a cacophony of scents that maria’s in half a mind her walls might just burst from the pressure.     the smell of ingredients simmering isn’t overpowering though,   and they certainly don’t overpower sim;   even while she’s stirring,   adding salt,   thrusting the wooden spoon in his face with an unspoken command of taste this,   sim endures as the epicentre of her attention.

   “ you think that’s done you any good?   the hiding.   do you think it’s helped you? ”     maria winces;   entirely at herself,   a muscle memory sort of reaction.     emotional insight isn’t her strongest suit.     ask for wisdom on command and her tongue tends to stick to the roof of her mouth,   damned by an inability to translate the opaque thoughts of her mind into anything articulate,   solid,   helpful.     yet she’s struck with an odd,   novel feeling–––that she might’ve just hit that ever evasive mark of perception,  or something close to it.     maria mulls a beat longer,   feeling her heart churn around another largely untranslatable thought;   a thought that’s tinged by a memory.     the recollection that she’s cooking an old family recipe.     there’s something subconscious in that,   she thinks,   cooking sim a meal of a bygone era of family.     a time she hides from,   for fear of the pain.     oh yes,   there’s something poignant there,   but that’s nothing she’ll try detangle today;   maria just focuses on an appreciation for simeon so strong that almost knocks her flat,   settling herself beside him at the kitchen table and laying a hand on his.   the food won’t burn.

   “ you’re not doing a great job of it right now,   by the way.     i see you perfectly.     and i quite like seeing you,   as it happens.     got a feeling other people would,   too. ”

[lastarchived]

❛   you  sure  you  don’t  need  to  stop?   ❜

[     @popstr​     ]:        CANON  ONE - LINERS.

[instafilm]

you   always   meet   people   when   heading   to   the   garbage   chute   ,   whether   you   want   to   or   not.   some   you   may   recognize   ,   some   you   might   not   &   some   might   even   be   a   little   on   the   famous   side.   the   arconia   is   so   large   ,   it's   hard   to   know   every   character   that   lives   within   its   walls   ,   not   that   charles   has   really   made   an   effort   to   try   ,   nor   does   he   want   to.   with   his   bag   of   trash   that   smelled   like   eggs   (   another   omelet   wasted   )   ,   he   couldn't   help   but   notice   the   young   man   just   passing   by   him   ,   that   chiseled   face   &   boyish   charm   too   similar   to   the   boys   of   posters   lucy   once   had   hanging   in   her   room.   ❝   sorry   ,   but   .   .   .   you   look   awfully   familiar   ,   ❞   he   says   out   loud   ,   uncertain   if   the   other   man   would   stop   to   listen.   was   he   in   a   rush   ?   most   young   people   seem   to   be   nowadays.   ❝   i   think   my   ex's   daughter   was   a   fan   of   yours.   weren't   you   in   a   boy   band   or   something   ?   ❞

            @popstr​   ,   simeon   sommerfeld   ━━   smile   for   the   camera.

[nvtm1]

❛  well  you  know  what  they  say:    in  for  a  penny,  in  for  a  pound.  ❜

𝐜𝐨 — 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:        @popstr​  as  simeon  sommerfield.

[hiddensteel]

sim is 5'6!

cute !! when they first met sansa was probably so surprised by their height difference. now she loves it

[tjhmnd-a]

@popstr​

“  what’d you wish for?  ”

[ragedagainst]

@popstr​​ : ❛ you think i’m weak because i’m not like you. ❜

simeon had not asked her to teach him basic self-defense –– it’s a cause she’s taken up on her own. bodyguards can only do so much, especially when the client is untrained and lacks experience in combat. panic in the heat of the moment is dangerous, often doing more harm than good. learning how to throw a punch and a handful of evasive maneuvers, and hammering them into muscle memory could make all the difference in a surprise attack : whether it’s a crazed fan or a robber looking for an easy target, she wants him to be prepared for any possible threat that could be thrown his way. 

but she is a soldier, not a teacher. rather quickly, she grows frustrated with the lack of progress he makes, as much as she reminds herself that he is not like her. but his attitude toward his life is so blasé –– why can’t he see that this is for his benefit ? the thought of him getting hurt in a preventable way –– the pressure boils up beneath the hatch in the bunker in the cave in her mind before she snaps.

a pause. she forces herself to breathe. to reign in her temper.

“ once, i would have, ” she decides on finally, meeting his gaze with brutal honesty. “ it’s what i thought about you when we first met. i saw what you want the world to see and i thought you were weak. ” there are different types of strength but all her life it’s been her physical prowess that has helped her survive. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠; 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐳𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐞. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡.

“ but believe me when i say i know better now. ” she doesn’t know if he does –– doubts it, actually. she’s always been shit at speaking her thoughts out loud, to articulate how she feels properly and in a way that makes sense to others. “ you’re not weak, simeon. sure, your stance is terrible and a strong breeze could blow you over but you’re not weak. ” 

[crimewroughtarc]

   @popstr liked !     𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧.  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐲,  𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.  𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭.  𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

   ❝     ——–     𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃,     ❞     a defiant beginning to her speech,  despite her quite obvious exertion.  for her brow is knotted and troubled,  her cheeks inked a flush pink.  above them,  the sky is still a cacophony of brilliant shades     ;     𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 ���𝚎𝚍,  𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎,  𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗.  her attention isn’t paid to this wondrous sight.  no     ——–     instead,  her eyes are squeezed tightly shut,  willing away repeated tides of nausea.  (  it’s early,  and perhaps she indulged in more glasses of wine than advisable the night before their venture into the 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬.  )     ❝     ...   that if i ever come up with stupid ideas about us going out for a morning hike ever again,  you have total permission to stop me right then and there.  i knew there would be a lot of climin’     ——–     𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜.     ❞     she pants heavily,  and swings for several seconds on the water she’s been embracing for much of the journey.  still,  𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫,  and lets her gaze finally journey up,  skimming the stark silhouettes of mountainous trees.     ❝     ...   well,  that makes it a little more worth the pain.     ❞

[kyberborne-a]

“ why would you want to put yourself through something like that ? “

💬 | @popstr​​

[nvarchive]

𝐂𝐎  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆:        SIMEON  SOMMERFELD.      —      @popstr​.​    random  sentence  starters.      —      𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆.

❛  obviously,  you’ve  never  been  a  thirteen-year-old girl.  ❜

[hello-soy-solo-sky-olver]

xd 

[piraticalarchive]

Dancing shadows are cast over rough wooden boards, throwing silhouettes of the many patrons across the walls - momentary glimpses into traveler’s lives captured with darkness consumed by flickering flames. Riften is a haven for those with secrets, the perfect place in which to lose one’s self to either  the thieves guild or another threat that haunts your every step, and The Bee and Barb is the perfect place to drown one’s self in drink, to chase sorrows and regret away with stein after stein of dark ale. 

Killian lounges in the corner by the wall, ringed fingers tapping a restless rhythm of irritation in response to every strum of the evening’s chosen bard’s instrument - a lad, it seems, who is intent on boring his way into every skull present with nothing but an off-key voice and words alluding to a fantasy that doesn’t exist. Raven hair flashes through his mind, a glimpse of a smile, bright in the light of the sun, only to be carried away by the wind... and in a reflex borne from the wave of emotion that surges from a hollow chest to climb like violence along the back of his throat, the pirate stands, knee hitting against the edge of the table. 

The few other patrons turn at such a noise - more than one wary gaze cast around the room, flickering glances to the door and back again as if seeking out some potential threat. The music plays on and black boots cross the open space in three strides, curved steel reaching out and plucking carefully tuned strings until the lute is forced to cease its noise. Before the other can argue, fingers of his single hand wrap around polished wood, yanking it away from its owner with a quirked brow. “Apologies, mate - seems your gear has gone and broken itself. Shame that.”

The tension in the air is thick around them and more than one fellow misery chaser makes as if to stand, swaying on feet as if unsure whether to defend the night’s entertainment or leave him to the man radiating with palpable anger. Blue eyes study the lad’s face, necklace dangling between them as Killian leans forward, words low as if divulging some secret meant for the other man’s ears alone. “Perhaps you’d best find yourself another line of work - or, at the very least, another crowd to bloody torment.