damgom-fan

[damgom-fan]

Fanart for @silly-string-guitar haha (that's my own oc 💀)

Ok.... context: I joined an rp server and now that's kinda what I'm doing 24/7

I'm prolly just gonna come back to Tumblr just to drop some art on yall and leave again, mayyyybe I'll answer a few doodle requests (I prolly wont)(am lazy :()

But yeah, miss yall

...

Bye again 😁

[damgom-fan]

Happy Valentines day!!!

Real shit this was rushed and lazy asf

I just wanted to make sure I drew Leo for Valentines day

I'm not officially coming back yet bc I'm low key still in my lazy era....

Just need yall to know I'm alive and well!!! And I miss you guys.....

That means if this post flops I'm leaving for good /j

[damgom-fan]

tired of winter. wanna something tender and spring-like

[damgom-fan]

💜🩵

[damgom-fan]

hoshirube..............

art dump from twitter

[damgom-fan]

This is so canon I’m crying 😭😭😭

[damgom-fan]

I....I'm gonna need y'all to excuse me while I lose my shit for a couple long minutes...

If tweaking was a person, that'd be me, I am absolutely not okay in the most positive way possible and I wanna shout out as well as thank once again the wonderful @tdtkc for this beautiful fanart of my recent jntm crossdressing fic.

It makes me so happy someone liked my shit enough to make art of it. It's a perfect 100000000/10 in everything! Jin's irritated and blushing expressions, the 2nd year trio in the corner, THE BERET!?!

And ofc TOHMA, my queen looks so pretty, I want him soooo bad even more now 😭😭😭💫

This is like the second ever jntm fanart I've set my eyes on since entering this Fandom and I discovered the first just yesterday so yeah, I'm grateful my work was able to inspire something so amazing for them 👑🧤 (y'all should I hold a poll where we decide their ship emojis or something? this don't look right 😭)

Already one of my highlights this year!

Forgive me if I become insufferable about this 🙏

[damgom-fan]

I love him<3

[damgom-fan]

Hey guys! Seiya here~☆

Get to know me :3

Species: Ghoul

Status: Alive

Stigma: Salaur, steals target's voice, but the longer I use it the drier my throat gets :(

Artifact: Electric guitar, can be used to either knock back enemies or be played so loud that it deafens them. Can also be used to just hit people. (Unfortunately cannot be used to actually play music... I cannot play the guitar)

Brief Backstory: Seiya was mute for unknown reasons for most of his life, leading to his sister, Emiko, dying in front of him when he was 14. While their parents were away a robber broke into their house, Emiko told Seiya to stay hidden and call the police while she tried to stop the intruder. You see this was a very stupid thing to do bc Seiya can't talk. He called the police but was unable to speak as he watched his sister get stabbed. Fortunately, the police heard the screaming in the background and were able to trace the call back to their home. By then Emiko was dead and the parents were angry so they disowned Seiya, leading him to make a pact with a demon. He asked if it could bring his sister back first but the answer was no so he got a voice instead.

Additional Information: His first words were an apology to Emiko :(. Also now that he can talk he likes to yap, its actually rlly hard for him to shut up bc he doesn't want to but sometimes he has a hard time pronouncing words since he literally just learned how to talk ~8 or so years ago

Blog rules!

((Uh... you see I would have rules if I have ever done this before but I haven't so idk what I'm doing))

Honestly... you can ask anything, if I don't like it I'll just delete it :p (suseptible to change)

[damgom-fan]

suzhou gardens in autumn and early winter by 茂茂茂, 灵邪-Rin, 想要一颗榴莲糖

[damgom-fan]

all together now ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و —hotarubi

[damgom-fan]

requested by a beloved moot on dc

[damgom-fan]

A new header for my twitter! Minyiminyi Sinostra.

I can finally bid farewell to this bewildered Jin I've been using as a header since I created my tkdb twitter account last month

[damgom-fan]

listen. I just think that Jin has two hands. jin, tohma, mc….. they are holding hands in a circle.. (real) (not clickbait)

[damgom-fan]

Writing in different formats is really fun (ft my OC appearing in the background.)

….Yuri Isami, you absolute tsundere. I am rotating him around in my brain. (Sorry for the inaccuracies. I’m no med student, okay…)

[damgom-fan]

aubade no.3 in Bb major: perihelion

woe. some of my fav fic snippets be upon ye (ft. Jin POV)

(Because that Tohma—no matter how much he silently bitches to himself over breakfast, that lazy, loafing bastard —is yours. 

You remember. The day he’d knelt in front of you, the sole devotee of a dying god: pledging fealty like a murmured prayer. You’d told him—what’s that? Say it again for me. Just to fuck with him, you’d say, keeping the real reason under wraps. 

… If a man cradles your heart in his hands, well—you better be pretty damn sure he won’t take off at the first opportunity. 

This, too, you’ll remember: how he’d knelt for you. Pressed a kiss to your hand in a tender promise, intertwined your fingers in an ironclad oath. Not because you commanded it—no, he’d kissed your hand and crept into your heart, just for one simple reason. Desire damns him; hell, maybe one day it’ll be the death of you both. Your ever-loyal lapdog, your loving hound. He’ll shadow your footsteps, even if it drags him down to the depths of hell.)

*

It’s late enough that the moon’s deigned to grace its grand audience of two, painting the room in shades of silver. You’d sometimes complain that your mom’s favorite child was actually good ol’ Yamaha-kun; hell, you’d joked that you were starting to get a little jealous of those glossy keys, for all the attention she paid them—but there was no swaying her. The piano bench was her second home.  

She kept calling her compositions lackluster, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. She’d make a song for anything, everything. Nocturne No.3 “My Son’s Sleepy Smile” (sweet as hell, but so damn embarrassing…) rings out softly into the silence. Hazily, you watch the world outside being slowly blanketed with endless white—maybe that’s why the sound of her voice sounds muffled; maybe that’s why her laughter sounds like the faint crackle of static, instead of the sweet, gentle notes of sepia-toned song. 

You dream, and you dream, and you dream. You want to go back. You want to wrench the goddamn grandfather clock from where it hangs. You want to say:  

Hey, Mom. You can tease me all you want—as a kid, for being too tiny to reach Yamaha-kun’s pedals. As a teenager, for my long-held vendetta against Liszt. Even now, you can drag my sleepy ass from my comforters all you want. I’m so damn sick of waking up nauseous from nostalgia—I feel your absence cut through me as keenly as a wound. 

*

Something’s fucking breaking, and it isn’t anything physical. 

(For fuck’s sake, Jin Kamurai, keep it together. There’s a thousand reasons why you can’t go falling apart now, even if your heart shudders and shrieks like a wounded animal at each heartrending note of grief. And yet—you can’t help but wonder. Is that the face you made at your mother’s funeral? 

Your mother, who’d danced with you across the kitchen tiles, stepping on your toes no less than sixteen times. Your mother, whose face always lit up when her hands were gliding across the keys. Your mother, who’d clapped with heartfelt joy at your mediocre performances, even if you fucked up the key change and were fighting a losing battle against the sudden onslaught of sharps. Your mother, singing to her favorite flowers perched on the windowsill; you never had the heart to tell her she was off key. 

But her songs slowly began to desert her. Her beloved flowers on the windowsill began to wither, and the sweetly chirping shima enaga on the eaves, one by one, fled for the winter. That’s why you took it up in her stead. She couldn’t muster the energy to make it to the piano bench, much less make it out of her room—so you’d run through Ravel’s La Valse every morning because she’d always been a hopeless romantic: you could give her a glimpse into the glittering world of waltzing couples; the great blaze of a golden chandelier; the mad joy of being alive. 

“Ich grolle nicht” from Schumann’s Dichterliebe. Mahler 5 Adagietto. Tchaikovsky’s Pas de Deux. You knew—of course you fucking knew that no matter how much you tried to fill the endless, aching emptiness that howled within her heart and threatened to swallow her whole, it would never be enough. 

But if it made her smile—hell, if it made the light in her eyes return for even a moment—then maybe you could coax it to linger just a little longer and stay the night.)

*

… Sometimes, when you look in the mirror; it pisses you off. All you can see are your father’s features—but then you remember. At least you have your mother’s eyes, your mother’s smile, your mother’s laugh, your mother’s music. … Do they see their sister, reflected back? Does it haunt them, the same way your mother haunts you every time you rest your fingers against those gleaming keys? Do they braid their hair in memory of a ghost looking back? 

… That’s right. You don’t play piano anymore for such a simple reason as ‘liking it’. Some habits are engraved so deeply within your body—blood and bone, mind and marrow—that they're as easy as breathing. Just as birds take to the sky, and fish swim through the sea. Whenever the weight of missing her becomes too hard to bear, you keep good ol’ Yamaha-kun company, filling the room with the racing notes of Ravel’s La Valse.

*

Whenever you rest your hands on these gleaming keys, you feel young again. You hear the echo of a laughing kid who danced across the kitchen tiles without a care in the world. … The warmth of someone else beside you on the piano bench chases away the trembling in your hands—because Frostheim’s winters are relentless, that’s all. All those years spent trembling in the cold slowly melt away; some frigid, frozen thing within you begins to thaw.

Liebestraum No.3 fills the room. It’s not like you can recite those sappy-ass stanzas by heart, but you get the gist of it. … Because Mom told you, all those years ago.

*

…Truth is, you’re so damn scared. 

Because you’re starting to grow fond of the noise. Yapping brats. Tohma’s taunts. Hina’s laughter. Stolen cigarettes and stolen monocles. Two certain someones nagging you to eat. The taste of home. The sun at your window, banging at your door. Chiikawa-themed bentos. Your hound: calling your name, calling you home. Your jester, giggling into your shoulder like a fool. You close your eyes and think: I could listen to this song forever.