mythvoiced

[mythvoiced]

-. MOVING

ALL RIGHT, find my ass over on @/ptternminds. Activity will continue to be low, for the most part; I won't carry things from my inbox & drafts over, but I will definitely continue threads/things I've gotten replies to after my hiatus announcement.

click once daily to donate to Palestine | Children | Fight Poverty | Women | Environment | Refugees

[mythvoiced]

-. hiatus

This goes both for Tumblr and Discord. I'll most likely be starting fresh.

click once daily to donate to Palestine | Children | Fight Poverty | Women | Environment | Refugees

[mythvoiced]

:)

for some reason my initial and instinctive response to this could be best summarised via:

hello hope my love my dear mother father holy spirit as you were what can i do for you ♥

[mythvoiced]

@geaesaekki | starter call | for: selena

"So... can you tip in places like these?"

Considering his unnatural age, there's still a lot Sköll can't quite add onto his list of 'been there done that'. The escorting business, from this angle, is one of the things on the list 'never been never done'. Much to his dismay, or perhaps to the improvement of the overall experience since he'll have the liberty of lack of genuine interest, it's easier to sit by the side of a female, than a male escort around these parts.

Which is a shame, honestly, since he'd figured he'd try that angle of exploring the business as well, while he's at it.

He leans back in his seat. The woman who's time he's buying lives up to her reputation: a tranquil rose, the vanilla to ever vanilla, she looks like she doesn't even know what leather is, and would pale at the notion of it being animal skin.

He envies her with an oddly detached undertone, the middle ground between wanting to be a certain way, and thanking the Heavens that he's not.

Were he any bite-sized for people, he probably wouldn't have made it this far.

His smile is the kind of friendly that lacks the basic implication of being inherently against human rights violation.

"Or leave reviews?"

[mythvoiced]

@heirofhermes | starter call

The one thing he retained from his 'life' as a 'knight' was the wandering aspect. It's difficult to fulfill self-flagellation when glued to the same area, there's only so much repenting he can do when there's nothing left to solve, and when everyone he's wordlessly beginning to forgive him in the stead of those he'd killed have begun realizing what he's doing.

Atoning, isn't quite the right word for it.

Mostly because the connotations of it sound just too righteous for Ajay's ears.

In spite of this forced-upon propensity for travel, there are certain areas, whole specs of continent that Ajay finds particular difficulty spending any significant amount in.

Even though the United States are certainly and always a good hot-spot to find trouble to perhaps become a solution to.

Not this time around. This time around he's dealing with a kind of people he's never met, and wounds closing precariously slow. The blood still trickles more than it seeps, but it trickles for a while, and where he'd use to have small spots, the side of his head is still warm with red. There's a bloody hand-print on the wall he'd supported himself against and a confused, frightened look on his face as he stares ahead, trying to ignore the phantom weight of a dead body.

The path of the executioner continues to lay itself down before him, a lover beckoning to be embraced, he never wants to take a life again, then why does he keep adding names to the list of fallen he'd felled?

"I didn't mean to," his hands come together, flex awkwardly in the unconscious habit of a blade between them before he extends his incriminating palms in what he hopes is a defensive, placating stance, all but begging the new arrival to not force him into a rerun of the last twenty minutes.

"Listen to me, please, there's no point to this."

[mythvoiced]

-. apologies to those i owe things to ooc~! i'm having an energy dip (as foreseen 😔) but i'll try to get back to ya soon 💝

[mythvoiced]

❛ how about a kiss goodnight? ❜ for kazu-chan 👿

@fatalhymn | &. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

It's not a spin.

He doesn't quite whip around either. He's just there, suddenly, half way across the room. He doesn't allow himself enough time to rethink it, to wonder what he may look like, to alter the nature or flavour of his step. Is he hurrying, looking more eager than he should? Does he look childish with the way he stomps?

It doesn't matter.

For the first time in a while, but not the first time since meeting her - the juxtaposition of admitting her faults but not counting his own - he doesn't care about the execution, about tying loose ends, about making things clean.

He cares about the instant relief.

The fastest result, not the end result.

She makes him look like a fool.

He's getting a little addicted to it.

His forefinger hovers before her nose when he jabs it into her face, the accusation unaccompanied by words for long enough for him to lose his train of thought, forget what he wanted to say.

He's never counted her freckles.

He narrows his eyes.

The accusatory jab of a forefinger turns into its retreat. He doesn't care to analyse what he's doing before he's wiping his thumb across her cheek. He gathers her freckles under his finger-pad, imagines plucking them out of the surrounding pores and licking them off his thumb like the kind of whipped cream he doesn't like.

He stares at his hand, eyebrows lifted in detached wonder as he realizes his hands are clean.

"Figured they were painted on," he deadpans. He's losing his accent, he barely had one to begin with, the fatal intensity of his dedication to getting things right, doing them well.

Nowadays, his accent seems intent on matching hers, instead.

"If someone offers you a sip from a cup filled with poison, would you drink from it?"

He kisses his thumb, the illusion of the warmth of her cheeks there because ultimately, Kazuki wants it to be there.

His hands meet his flanks. It's a deep bow, all things considered, polite, exceeds the amount of respect Kazuki is willing to show her on most days, unwilling to go beyond the necessary.

He doesn't look at her again before leaving.

[mythvoiced]

open starter | kang chulsoo

"I'm borne away to a senseless world, so strange, so remote..."

The empty room has none of the required set-ups to carry a voice in a way that would keep it clean, easily recognizable, make the words dance like defined syllables as opposed to vague sounds pronounced in a language.

But it does carry echo well, bounces off the walls and fills every corner.

He stops, lowers himself to the ground in a crouch. A person his age should hardly look this exhausted, right? And portray it so akin to aunties and uncles with their hunched backs given to them as only reward after decades of hard labour, that and the lines on their palms.

He lifts his head. He focuses for a total of a moment, perhaps, to be generous, before he tilts his head to one side, as if expecting something heavy to slip out of his ear, and frowns.

"I don't think we should be in here."

[mythvoiced]

be more chill sentence starters (part 1)

these are some quotes from each of the songs. feel free to edit pronouns/add names. trigger warning for sex, suicide mentions, and drug mentions, among more. part 2 here.

MORE THAN SURVIVE

❛ come on, go, go! ❜

❛ i’m waiting for my porno to load. ❜

❛ freaking out is my “okay”. ❜

❛ i feel my stomach filling up with dread. ❜

❛ god, i wish i had the skill to just be fine and cool and chill. ❜

❛ i don’t want to be a hero. ❜

❛ i don’t want to be special. ❜

❛ i just want to survive. ❜

❛ that is so awesome… i - i mean slutty! ❜

❛ don’t touch me, tall ass! ❜

❛ that’s not what i need right now. ❜

❛ did you say something? ❜

❛ my mack daddy game couldn’t be more limp. ❜

❛ just clear your brain and move ahead. ❜

❛ i don’t want to be a baller. ❜

❛ how’s it hanging? ❜

❛ you look like ass, what’s wrong? ❜

❛ it’s all good. i saw on discovery that humanity has stopped evolving. ❜

❛ that’s… good? ❜

❛ evolution is survival of the fittest, right? but now, because of technology. you don’t need to be strong to survive! ❜

❛ there’s never been a better time in history to be a loser. ❜

❛ GAY! ❜

❛ i like gay people. ❜

❛ i’m never going to be the cool guy. i’m more the one who’s left out. ❜

❛ i am not the one who the story’s about. ❜

❛ why can’t someone just help me out? ❜

❛ help me do more than survive. ❜

I LOVE PLAY REHEARSAL

❛ i love play rehearsal because it’s the best! ❜

❛ i just use the word to emphasize a point. ❜

❛ i am passionate a lot! ❜

❛ i have mad, gigantic feelings, red and frantic feelings about most everything. ❜

❛ where was i? ❜

❛ life is easy in rehearsal. ❜

❛ anywho, the point that i’m getting to is life can’t always work out in the way it works out in a play. ❜

❛ no matter how hard i try it’s impossible to narrow down the many reasons why. ❜

❛ i happiness cry as soon as it starts. ❜

❛ most humans do one thing for all of their lives. ❜

❛ i’ve got so many interests i wanna pursue. ❜

❛ why am i telling this to you? ❜

❛ my brain is like “bzzz”, my heart is like “wow”. ❜

THE SQUIP SONG

❛ i was a loser just like you. ❜

❛ i was hopeless, i was helpless. ❜

❛ i was so suicidal. ❜

❛ then i got a SQUIP. ❜

❛ you got quick? ❜

❛ i’ve just never heard of it. ❜

❛ this is some top secret, “can’t even look it up on the internet” shit. ❜

❛ so it’s like drugs? ❜

❛ it’s better than drugs. ❜

❛ it’s preprogrammed. ❜

❛ it helps you rule. ❜

❛ right now you’re helpless, you are almost hopeless. ❜

❛ then you’ll go from sad to interesting to hip, you’re whole life will flip! ❜

TWO PLAYER GAME

❛ find the bad guy, push him aside. ❜

❛ it’s a two player game, so when you make an attack, you know you’ve got a brother/sister/partner who’ll have your back. ❜

❛ and if you leave your brother/sister/partner behind it’s lame. ❜

❛ it’s an effed up world, but it’s a two player game. ❜

❛ dude, you are cooler than a vintage cassette. ❜

❛ it’s no big, because you and i are a team. ❜

❛ nobody here appreciates. ❜

❛ guys like us are cool in college. ❜

❛ this is what we do, we make it a two player game. ❜

❛ as losers we have fought together for years. ❜

❛ know that you are my favorite person, that doesn’t mean that i can’t still dream. ❜

❛ is it really true that i’m your favorite person? ❜

❛ we’re never not going to be a team. ❜

THE SQUIP ENTERS

❛ target in accessible. ❜

❛ please excuse some mild discomfort. ❜

❛ woah, woah, woah… i’m fine. i just – ❜

❛ discomfort level may increase. ❜

❛ GAAAAHHHHH! HAAHH! HAAAAAAAHH!! ❜

❛ welcome to your super quantum unit intell processor… your SQUIP. ❜

BE MORE CHILL, PART 1

❛ take your hands out of your pockets. ❜

❛ fix your posture. ❜

❛ all your nerdiness is ugly. ❜

❛ all your stammering’s a chore. ❜

❛ fix your vibe, then fix some more. ❜

❛ no, stop. ❜

❛ everything about you is so terrible. ❜

❛ everything about you makes me want to die. ❜

❛ you will be more chill. ❜

❛ first thing’s first, go buy a new shirt. ❜

❛ it’s better if you just comply. ❜

❛ just step and fetch, don’t ask me why. ❜

❛ how are you with math homework? ❜

❛ i’m made of math. ❜

❛ you’re a slob. ❜

❛ you shop here? ❜

❛ you look sexy. ❜

❛ is that a girl’s shirt? ❜

❛ it’s still painful. ❜

❛ hey, hamlet. be more chill. ❜

DO YOU WANNA RIDE?

❛ do you wanna ride? ❜

❛ if this is going to work, you need to do as i instruct. ❜

❛ wanna go far? ❜

❛ don’t you say no. ❜

❛ we’ve gotta stop for frozen yogurt first. ❜

BE MORE CHILL, PART 2

❛ you can’t just listen, you have to obey. ❜

❛ repeat after me: ____. ❜

❛ everything about me is just terrible. ❜

❛ everything about me makes me wanna die. ❜

❛ everything about you is going to be wonderful. ❜

❛ you won’t feel left out or unsure. ❜

❛ you won’t be ugly anymore. ❜

MORE THAN SURVIVE (REPRISE)

❛ ow! ❜

❛ i was just gonna… check my email. ❜

❛ you can’t lie to me, ____, i’m inside your brain. ❜

❛ still not gonna be the cool guy, but maybe not so left out. ❜

❛ i might be the one who the story’s about. ❜

❛ all in all, a not so heinous day. ❜

[mythvoiced]

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you may : edit them , use in crackships , turn into gif icons — as long as credit is given !

don’t : claim them as your own , use to roleplay as real people / underaged characters , in smut threads — just don’t be shitty !

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[mythvoiced]

@tewwor | ♥

If it helps, they did mean it as an attempt at... praise or validation, or whichever way Cruor wants to take it and run with it. Definitely devoid of ill intentions, though. As someone who finds a day spent either getting on someone's nerves or being left to their own devices, blissfully ignored and avoided, as their ideal day of rest, operating in any way meant to have someone's sour mood or negative sense of self improved upon is a little wonder in on itself.

And they say they only bring bad luck, what a shame.

There's a moment where Chén simply smiles. Hand on Cruor's shoulder giving it a friendly, awkward squeeze, before it's retracted and hidden behind Chén's back to make sure Cruor can't see their thumb wiping the sensation and concept of physical proximity off of their other fingers.

"A reverse jack of all trades," Chén nods, sighing, looking to their surroundings like a story-teller moments from reciting the easiest poem you've ever heard, with the air of superiority of someone pretending to be reciting poetry of the gods.

Anyone wanna talk about some geese?

"Or a regular jack of all trades? Isn't that just a regular jack of all trades? No matter, what does matter is, once you've hit rock bottom, and all that about improvement being the only option. Right? Wanna practice some more blood-letting?"

[mythvoiced]

open starter | alya demir

"Listen."

There are life-changing downsides to having imagery to associate with you. Alya used to remember herself wrapped in fog, the stench of blood, the sweetness of death all around her as she stepped over battlefields with the superiority of a being that would never have to face this side of war.

The sound of hooves beating already beaten fields, the moaning and the begging of the dying, the sudden silence of those who'd look into her eyes, recognize her for what she was, and welcome her and her arms.

Now she has a raven perched on a telephone line, staring down at her, cocking its head to one side and gauging the living around her as a next meal.

If only they were real enough to shoot down.

Alya's hands are bloody as she grabs the other's shoulders, shakes them into meeting her eyes. The accident hadn't been her fault. The lack of CPR training, the bursting of a ribcage at the slightest push because of the strength she wields to claim death and not safe anyone from it, and the bleeding orifices of a biker who might have lived without her.

"You need to take over. Please. I need to get out of town. I need to leave, you have to..."

[mythvoiced]

@xinxiins | ♥

"All right, I did it, I figured it out," Qiànrú has no reason to be on this side of campus. Most might argue, well, hello there Yú Qiànrú, what are you doing on this side of campus, and, most importantly, what are you doing barging into a dorm room fellow students might associate to less than flattering assumptions about you.

And less than flattering assumptions she most certainly gathers, what with her propensity for only ever really striking up a conversation with people who look more popular than her but mask a cheer and glee for things just nerdy enough.

Wénzhé is an example, tall and handsome, but the goofiest man she'll ever know.

Jì Jìngyè is another, gorgeous and filthy rich, and... the most harmless person she'll ever meet.

There are dark bags under her eyes and a gleeful smile meant to insinuate hours unslept solely out of her own sheer force of will, all while she shoves whatever textbooks Jì Jìngyè had been pouring over just enough out of the way to occupy the space in their stead.

She starts digging through her bag.

Stops.

Lifts her eyes.

"Why are you awake."

[mythvoiced]

open starter | maverick barnett

Fading hyper-focused hands. There's more grease on the spot of skin attaching the forefinger to the palm. Stigmate al centro della mano, il fiammifero, il fiammifero.

They look dirtier, or rosier, full of scars from scabs scratched off, the scars of blades are no longer there because you drew them into the lines already carved into your palms either to hide them or as an inside joke with yourself.

The knife was blunt the other day, the greatest disappointment of the week.

Your hands are dirty, wash them, there's grease, wash them, they shine, wash them, wash them, wash them.

When's the last time you've washed your hands?

Mave foregoes the hand dryer, there's a handkerchief in his back pocket he plucks out instead, trying to dry off the rubbed raw skin of his now reddened hands.

He walks into the door when he steps out, blinking as if in pain as the harsh reality of the mall wraps around him again. Empty corridor, bright lights, there's a fountain somewhere.

He stops next to the person he thinks he came with. He wants to ask, are my hands clammy?

"What do you think is a sin?"

[mythvoiced]

@xinxiins | ♥

For a solid moment there, Minho isn't sure if he's being made fun of.

Even after he's being handed a set of napkins - that have seen better days, it seems, and it concerns, making his eyes narrow from suspicion to worry - watching the kid agree to what had very evidently been bullshit on Minho's part, spewed either to lessen the accountability of his daughter or alleviate the tension seeping into his own shoulders, there's a good chance he's suddenly stood before the kind of young adult Soomi would probably praise, for the boldness of their mockery, the courage of their lack of sense for authority.

But the suspicion doesn't fester, even in the silence that stretches around the kid's faltering, the softness of his voice, the way Minho takes the napkins from his extended hand and wipes at the lapels of his coat as if it mattered, as if it wouldn't be easier to just go home with the stain and abandon the coat in the washer along with his dignity.

Minho snorts.

"I wasn't being serious," he interjects softly, somehow not finding the bite in the other, let alone one within himself to offer to the kid. His head tilts, there's an apprehension to his gaze that seems keen on figuring out what the issue here is.

Because there is one.

"It was just an... argument with my daughter," he gesticulates vaguely, unsure of how to reveal the truth without the shame attached to it, the idea that he's failed as a father starting from the moment he'd failed to even show up as one.

He can't blame her.

"I didn't... quite understand that, sorry, but I'm glad she didn't get you," he bundles the napkins into one sorry excuse of their former self, left to find a new home in the inside of the coat he's quickly coming to associate with one of the biggest issues currently changing the trajectory of his life.

Who is this kid?

"Xuān Bǐngjí," he half-asses through the pronunciation with an apologetic smile, trying to inflect it with enough self-deprication and irony to imply his lack of practice with a language clearly not his own isn't intended to come across as malicious.

"All right, Xuān Bǐngjí, I'm Minho, nice to meet you," he extends a hand, waving the bow off with the dismissal of someone who'd rather choke than be given this kind of politeness to.

The next gesturing seems intent on beckoning Xuān Bǐngjí to bring his own hand back into the picture.

"Show me your hand."

[mythvoiced]

MELISA ASLI PAMUK in carpisma

[mythvoiced]

Oh dear.

This is almost painful to watch.

On one hand, makes Sarang's job expontentially easier. This woman behaves as though it would take but a wink and a smile from dainty little Miss Choi to have her fumbling and stumbling all over herself.

Which would be endearing, would it not attach that familiar sour taste to Sarang's palate. It gets to her, every now and then, this odd misplaced envy of getting to be any woman she wants so long as it serves a purpose, and never any woman she wants so long as she wants.

Jing giggles. Her fingertips brush over her mouth, as if she were half-inclined to cover it, before thinking better of it or changing her mind for whatever reason, and curling her fingers away. The image that creates is one of a bashful beauty, who might just be enticed enough to reveal the tenderness of her fond smile.

"Jing is fine, you know," not exactly pertaining perhaps to the culture here, but she can neither demand Nell to stick to it, nor can she avoid indulging the woman, Miss Choi would never do either.

Miss Choi absolutely adheres to hierarchical rules, social conventions, what have you. They're her bread and butter, easy ways to prove how kind and polite she is, the kind of naivety that makes her mistake one for the other.

You can be perfectly polite and kill every night.

Politeness doesn't equal kindness.

But how would Miss Choi no better?

Miss Choi's greatest fallacies are, after all, that she believes in the inherent goodness of people; that she is superior to others for doing 'sociable' in the only way that should be considered the right one.

"Nice to meet you, Nell," it's a good thing the name comes with the convenience of 'L'. She can put emphasis on the way her tongue leaves her palate, and the smile that follows it.

"Oh, no, no lectures, unless, of course, you count, well, helping me understand how to better care for pigeons," her hands wring in front of herself, flexing around leather; Choi Jing carries purses, strapped over her shoulder! Sarang loathes the damn things.

"I mean, I don't have any pigeons, but... well... I was kind of wondering if... well, he seemed knowledgeable, and I've been thinking about getting a pet bird, and..."

Vague gesticulating, vague smiles, vague everything.

Isn't Choi Jing charming?

Nell isn't bad.

Sarang continues to stick to her initial impression, charming in the awkwardness, endearing in the stumbling. It's just infuriating.

She responds to Choi Jing so well.

"Uhm... is... are you closed right now, or...?"

@stillresolved

rip the legacy editor...nell would commemorate too :'D ( @mythvoiced || sarang )

Where does Myungdae find these people again? For someone who insists that he’s more or less better off alone, he certainly brings in a lot of characters to the shop. Or the coffeehouse- you’d think that it’d be Alfred bringing the chaos in. 

But then again, someone once said it’s always the quiet ones.

But if Myungdae made a beeline to avoid this one, then there’s probably a reason for doing so, right? Well, he always has some kind of excuse…still, what could possibly be his reasoning for avoiding this woman? It’s not like she’s blotched any of their heists the way the King has tried to…or has she already?

Ah, well, Nell can worry about that later, when she doesn’t feel like tripping over her two left feet in the presence of…Miss Choi. Miss Choi and her dainty fingers now folded together, resembling that of an angel. It almost hurts to keep the jig up. 

But then again, telling the truth here probably wouldn’t be great either- you don’t tell someone that your friend doesn’t actually want to see them. Why are social conventions a thing again?

“N-No definitely not. You’re not bothering anyone- me, I mean. It’s not like, uh-” She gestures at the coffeehouse- the mornings in the front are always the busiest, which probably explains why, in the middle of this fine afternoon, it’s close to empty. ( Back of the house is a different story, however- not like Miss Choi would have any reason to be back there…right? Don’t think about that, Nell. ) “I’m not seeing- serving anyone right now. Nell, by the way- I’m Nell.” She shakes the hand offered…which strangely though seems to have calluses. Huh- not quite what she’d expect from someone as dainty-looking as Miss Choi. “Nice to meet- Jin- I mean Miss Choi.” 

Grabbing a clean mug to wipe and to calm herself, she peers over at Jing. The questions begin to bubble up as per usual- how does Myungdae know her? And if they never exchanged numbers, then how did she figure out where to find him? Wait actually, he’s also almost religiously a creature of habit so maybe it isn’t that surprising that she’s found her way to the coffeehouse…

“What did he say, if you don’t mind me asking? Not that I’m trying to snoop or anything-” Lies, but one has to be polite about this especially when collecting BLACKMAIL MATERIAL for later. Little does she realize ‘Jing’ has a very similar intention…although perhaps of a different nature. “He hasn’t given any lectures or anything like that, right? I thought adjuncts aren’t usually invited to give lectures or that kind of thing."