#and somehow ended up reading the entire poem

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Hesiod’s Work and Days basically boiling down to “you piece of shit return my stuff or burn in hell”

it’s literally just long winded hate mail to his brother.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[espinosaurusrexex]

If Given the Chance… (1)

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader | SteveRogers x Female!Reader (ugh I don’t know it’s messy)

summary: After an accident on a mission, Bucky and Steve find themselves in the body of the other and both soon begin to act like it too. But while Bucky tries to fix the problem, Steve takes his opportunity to taste his deepest desires, falling into a role he’d never thought he’d get to play: your boyfriend. 

a/n: remember this ask? yeah... it took a completely different turn

word count: 3.4k

warnings: a confused and hopeless Stevie, pining, agony, angst, betrayal, fluff, a little heated, this borders dub-con but then again not really, still - !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

(please excuse my horrid Photoshop skills, but no GIF combination could match my vision...)

Change. What was it really? Bucky never thought people truly changed. That deep in their hearts they’d always be the same. And yet, he felt as though he had been part of three different personas so far. He’d always wondered what it must be like to just switch bodies with someone. To represent something different - a contrast to what the body was used to. 

He didn’t need to wonder anymore. Because he’d experienced it. The person he had been before Hydra was not the same as the winter soldier. And neither was the person he was today - different from both of his prior states. And even though he had lived through it, change, he was here, wondering what it must be like.

He’d read a poem once. A sad, hopeless one. But at the end, it said to read it again - from the bottom up, and its meaning shifted entirely. Transformed from a depressing mood into an optimistic one. Changed, just like that.

So, Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether he had experienced that kind of change before. He’d changed looks, and people told him his heart had not shifted one bit. He’d changed occupations, and he’d not felt as though his values had stayed the same. He had contradicted everything he’d ever imagined change to be. Even though he never really knew what it was. 

But now? Now he had proper change. A good one? He wasn’t sure. Not terrible, that was for certain. But definitely one he needed to reverse. 

Steve’s eyes stared back at him through the shiny surface of the window. Confusion etched in his brow he’d never seen on his best friend before. The blonde hair disheveled, eyes more exhausted-looking than they usually did, he pushed a deep breath out of his lunges. 

What a mess.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m okay, I’m just-“

“What? What is it?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“I’m... you.”

What a fucking mess. 

So Steve was Bucky and Bucky was Steve. But at the same time, they were still themselves, just somehow stuck in the other’s body. It had been four hours since the incident and Bucky was still panicking. He felt the responsibility for the “team” weighing his body down - the body that wasn’t his, but most definitely the reason for his distress. They were about to arrive in the next thirty minutes and no one at the compound knew what had happened. No one. Not Tony, not Bruce, not you. 

Oh god, you didn’t know your boyfriend was trapped in his best friend’s body. Bucky didn’t even know how he would start to explain it. You were very understanding and patient, but Bucky feared that this might introduce a new sphere of problems neither of you had encountered before.

The two friends hadn’t talked about it. Steve and Bucky both knew it was a problem that needed solving, but Steve had been awfully quiet ever since they boarded the Quinjet home. It certainly didn’t help Bucky relax. At least it was late in the night. The chances of encountering another Avenger when they would get back were small and left him a few hours of dealing with it all - maybe sleep it off. 

Who was he kidding?

Bucky wouldn’t be sleeping. He would stay up, wait until it was a reasonable enough hour to drag Bruce to his lab and get him started on fixing the problem not even he knew the actual cause of.

Running, hiding, finding a weird machine, toppling over a storage rack, and the accidental push of a button. An explosion, heat, but no pain - just utter confusion. 

Bucky shook his head as he took a seat beside Steve in the cockpit. Not even he would believe himself if he were told this story...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve hadn’t planned for this to happen. He just wanted to explain things to you, tell you what had occurred on the mission - even though he didn’t quite know himself - and then find Bucky. For a second, he had even forgotten. He had forgotten that, in a way, he was Bucky. And that you wouldn’t know until he told you that he was Steve. Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend who had been in love with you from the day he met you. 

Yeah... that was an issue. Bucky didn’t know and neither did you. God behold, Steve got in the way of his oldest friend’s happiness. He would never do that. Especially not when that friend had suffered for so long. So, Steve had just kept to himself, watching as Bucky was the one holding you during movie nights, sleeping in your bed, and kissing you goodbye. 

It hurt. But Steve had gotten used to the familiar sting in his chest whenever he witnessed his best friend’s hands on you or when your adoring smile was sent his way. He swallowed the pain like it was nothing, and it got easier every time. He still needed to remind himself though: You can’t, Steve. You don’t want to, Steve. 

But now... now might have been the only opportunity to get away with it. No. He would never. He couldn’t.

“Bucky!” Your door opened and Steve felt your hands around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips. Wow.

Steve’s body was on fire. The stinging he usually felt in his chest now spreading through his entire body, creating goosebumps on his skin. It felt so different, so good. 

Overwhelmed by the feeling, he stumbled forward, guiding you back by your hips and shutting the door with his foot. 

Endless nights imagining what your pillowy lips would feel like on his seemed silly now that he tasted you. His mind had never even come close. You were so much softer, so much warmer... so much more rewarding than anything his imagination could cook up. 

Steve was addicted now, there was no going back. You were like a drug that tied him to your supply forever. 

His hands began to roam your body, moving your hair, smelling your scent, feeling every bump and curve of your body as he got lost in your embrace. It was too easy to forget it wasn’t him you were kissing. Steve was just as tall as your Boyfriend, he was just as strong - every movement, every look - it felt the same.

Hungrily, Steve’s wet kisses wandered down your neck until he reached the spot that drew a grasp from your lips and it made his pants feel tighter. 

“What’s this about,” you chuckled as your palm gently pressed against his chest. Steve reluctantly loosened his grip around you just to see that shining smile of yours beaming up at him. Holy shit. This must be what heaven feels like.

“I just missed you-” his answer got swallowed in the crook of your neck again, Steve’s cheek settling to your skin when he mumbled the last part beneath your ear. “...a lot.”

You didn’t even know how much. And as you chuckled and ran your hands down his back, Steve wondered if he could even call it missing when he never really had you in the first place. But then you kissed his shoulder and Steve decided that he didn’t care. Your lips just felt a little too good not to miss in any circumstance - whatever it meant now - and he had lost you to his best friend somehow, so he was allowed to miss. 

“Missed you too.” Steve smiled and began to pick up his kissing when he felt your lips press to his shoulder a second time. 

It was strange how natural this interaction felt for Steve. He didn't know if that was because he had imagined it a hundred times, dreamt about you more nights than he liked to admit - each time waking with an ache in more places than one and the added incapability to stop it. Steve had not had a girlfriend since he met you. He tried a few hookups, each one with the picture of you in his head, the actual person beneath him serving merely the purpose of physical touch, but it wasn’t enough. Especially now that he knew what it could feel like - kissing you alone - nothing could ever compare.

Lost in his thoughts, his hands wandered down your body, squeezing parts of you he’d only ever imagined touching, and every breathy moan he pulled from you became a tiny celebration in his mind.

Your hands held on tight to his neck when his knee found its way between your legs, your head falling back, giving him just that much more ground to place his soft attacks. He growled against your skin when your sounds grew high pitched, unbelievable gratification consuming his body - driving him further. 

This was perfect, this was all he ever wanted this- “Ah, Bucky!” This was wrong. 

And Steve was reminded of what he was doing right now. His hands retracted immediately, but you clung to his neck like glue. “Please,” you whimpered and his head fell back into you like an instinct, the urge to bring you pleasure too strong to stop his movements entirely. 

But, fuck, he was an awful person. 

With trembling hands and a stinging in his chest, he stepped back from you. Your eyes stared at him in confusion, desperate for anything - pleasure, closure. And Steve wanted to give it all to you. But he wasn’t allowed to. He was Steve - your boyfriend’s best friend. A terrible one, too. 

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” he stuttered through the glossy shimmer forming in his eyes. 

“What?” Shit. Steve turned before you could see the first tear fall from his eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing your face any longer - that beautiful, innocent face with so much irritation and sadness poisoning its features. You didn't deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess by him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Steve sped towards the lab immediately, barely missing Bucky on his way out of the glass doors. But Bucky merely sent a nod his way, leaving Bruce to greet him with an exhausted smile. 

“You need to do something. Now.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

Bucky turned around to see you standing in the doorway, a big smile instantly settling on his face. You looked beautiful, he thought every time he saw you - especially after a mission that lasted for several days in which he did not get to see you. 

His fingers itched to reach out to you, pull you into him and just kiss your pretty face, but once he caught his left arm lifting, and missing the sleek black gleam he was so used to, Bucky was reminded that he needed to behave differently now. 

He hadn’t told you about the accident yet. Bruce seemed to know what he was doing, so Bucky was just hopeful the issue would be resolved soon. Until then, he needed to cope with the constant panic surging through him at his and Steve’s states. 

The desk chair squeaked when he tuned to you, watching as you roamed about Steve’s office and eyed the sketch he had framed on the cupboard. That’s when he noticed your posture - how your shoulders were slightly hunched, your head a little lower than usual, and a faint frown hiding behind the hairs falling into your face. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” He stood up wanting to approach you but remembering his place again. Now he was just standing there, helpless and unsure of what to do as he watched you toy with the edges of the notebook laying in front of you. 

You sighed. “Bucky is being weird... I hope he’s okay but he wouldn’t talk to me.” You glanced at him shortly and the corners of your mouth jerked downward. “I thought maybe... I don’t know, maybe you know what’s going on.” You stared at him hopefully. “Did something happen on the mission?”

I’m right here, baby. And I would be so much better if I could tell you.

Bucky willed his thoughts silent, finally stepping forward and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“It was a long mission, give him some time to rest...” God, he hated lying to you. But it was for the best. He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already did, as much as it hurt to see you this clueless. 

Bucky could only imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal was for Steve. He was going through the same thing, but Steve had to juggle you - or as it seemed, ignore you - on top of it. The friends still hadn’t talked about what to do. There had just seemed to be a common understanding settled between them, and that was to keep as many people out of this as possible. 

Still, Bucky wondered how his best friend was doing. This was an unusual situation, and he cared for him just as much as he did for you. 

“Maybe you’re right.” You turned to him with a saddened face. “But I can’t help but feel like there is something else bothering him. I just want him to be okay...”

“We both do, doll.” Bucky couldn’t help it, he pulled you into his chest by your wrist - hoping it would be less intimate than by your waist like he always did - and tugged your head beneath his chin. 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once your body molded against his, the familiar feeling of content mixing with the underlying tension he had been plagued with since the mission. That was what he had needed. To feel you again, touch you, have your arms hug him to your body, and be entranced by your perfume again. 

It was hard not to kiss your hair, or inhale your shampoo too obviously when he held you like this. It was what he always did when he was Bucky - but now he was Steve. And Bucky never imagined he could hate being Steve so much. 

He shook the thought immediately, focusing on you and squeezing you tight one more time before he let you go. He missed your touch the second you retracted your arms, sending a weak smile up to him. Oh, how he’d love to kiss that frown away, to touch you until he heard that beautiful laugh of yours again. But he couldn’t do it, he was not allowed to - he was Steve.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.” He smiled reluctantly as he watched you leave with mixed feelings. 

Bucky didn’t know how much longer he could endure this.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Thank fucking God!” Bucky exclaimed as he padded down his body - his own body. 

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of constant worry and agony, lonely nights, and the pressure of keeping this ridiculous secret. But Bruce had finally done it. Bucky didn’t know how - and it wasn’t super important to him either - but he was glad he finally had his own body back. 

“You did it!” Steve stated with mild enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference anymore. He didn’t hate himself less for what had happened. But at least, now, he didn’t need to worry about making the mistake again. 

Bruce just responded with a proud shrug, a blush almost forming on his cheeks before his smile fell again. 

That’s when you entered the lab with a pile of manila folders in your hand. 

“What’s going on in here?” You asked, excited to experience a light atmosphere in a room both Steve and Bucky were in. It had been different for a couple weeks now, and Bucky was still acting weird, but something told you, he was getting better. Well, maybe the laugh you had heard from the hallways had, but now he was just staring at you as Bruce did. 

“What? Am I interrupting something? I just wanted to give you these files, Banner, I-” you trailed off when your eyes wandered from the men to the desk you had halted next to, a wild array of papers and opened digital files littering the work area as you placed your addition there as well. 

You had always been a fast reader - a talent that came in handy more times than one would think - so your eyes scanned the documents in haste, collecting keywords and notes until they landed on a particularly concise one: Possible body switch triggers. What the hell? Super Soldiers. Consciousness. Machine. Serum. Third vessel for transfer. What the hell what the hell what the hell?!

You looked up, willing the confusion to the back of your mind as you pierced Bruce with a cold stare. “A body switch project? Really, Bruce? It’s not like we’re already down one person since Peter decided to test out his new jet-pack prototype.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Instead, Bucky stepped forward with a reasoning tone. “Baby-“

“And you.” Your finger pointed at him. “I thought you were smarter. First, you’re acting all weird, and now you’re calling me ‘baby’ again,” you stated plainly, crossing your arms. Steve swallowed thickly, watching the interaction between you and Bucky play out with his lip between his teeth. “What- is this why you were behaving so weird? Are you in on this? Are you seriously participating as a lab rat?”

“I... we...” Bucky frantically searched the room for his teammates’ support, trailing off when everyone avoided his eyes. Traitors.

“Who is switching bodies? And why couldn’t you tell me?” The room had gotten silent, but you weren’t about to back down. You wanted answers, especially when the people you cared about did stupid things that risked their lives more than their job already did. You scanned each of them carefully, assessing which one was to break first under your solid stare. Steve was wringing his hands, his eyes trained on the ground - nervous, maybe, scared. 

Bruce was sweating bullets. He hated being in fussy situations, always tense to keep the big guy down. He would speak first - de-escalation was his second nature… well, apart from the escalating one.

Bucky had his jaw wired shut, a frequent side eye assessing the state of his fellow coworkers carefully. Nobody wanted to break it to you. Especially since they had hidden the switch from you for two weeks. You weren’t big on betrayal and everyone knew it.

“They-“ Bruce started but was shut up by Bucky’s death stare quickly. How dare he do him so dirty?

“You were saying?” You zeroed in on the scientist, a hopeful yet clueless look on your face, but Bruce was too scared of Bucky to continue. He hated lying to you, everyone did.

But you wouldn’t budge, staring him down, challenging him to break the silence. What was so bad about something that hadn’t even happened yet?

But then a deep voice sounded from the other corner of the room. “Bucky and I did.” Less steady than usual and still avoiding your eyes, Steve let his hands fall to his sides. “On accident...”

And Bucky sighed, half relieved, half angry at his friend. 

“What? When?”

“On the last mission,” Bruce chimed in, just to earn another stink eye from Bucky.

“The last mission two weeks ago? Two Weeks?!”

“I wanted to tell you, okay? But we thought it was best if we kept it a secret... for everyone’s sake.” The brunette super soldier stepped forward, his hands showing surrender when he moved into your personal space.

“And you didn’t think to include me? Your girlfriend?” You looked at him appalled. Why the hell did he not say anything? Would you have ever known had you not walked in on- 

“I'm sorry.” Your breath hitched when Bucky pulled you into his arms, placing a firm kiss on your head before burying his face in your neck again. 

Because that was when you realized - when you remembered - the last time it had happened. 

Steve finally dared to look up at the couple in front of him only to find you staring at him over his best friend’s shoulder. 

You knew. 

Steve could see it in your eyes - that look you were giving him made him shudder. There was slight confusion in your stare, a little sadness, too. You knew, but Steve knew you wouldn’t lose a word over it. 

He tore his longing stare from you and looked down bashfully, ticking his jaw before he could say or do anything stupid. That’s when he felt the sorrow covering his senses again, the hurtful pull on his heart that he had become so used to at the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. 

He’s had you once, got to taste you once - and it was one time too many, he reminded himself.

And even though it hurt, he found comfort in the familiarity the feeling held.

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[child-of-the-nights]

Various characters on your birthday

A/N: So this is very self indulgent because yesterday was my birthday (yippee!) but I wrote some headcanons with a few of my fav characters from the fandoms I write for. Anyway have fun reading!

Warnings: none

Characters: Aro Volturi, Emperor Belos, Elrond, Shadow Weaver, Thranduil

Aro Volturi:

Now, celebrating birthdays in the vampire world is a little bit different. Since most people at the palazzo have been alive for centuries, they don't really celebrate their birthdays every year. It's more like every decade or even every 100 years.

However, if Aro's mate is still human or a newborn vampire, they can expect to have a big party thrown for them. Even if they prefer solitude, they can expect to at least have the family invited. That being Caius, Marcus, Athenodora and Sulpicia.

Aro obviously gets his mate the best gifts. He can, after all, see their deepest wishes with a single touch. His mate had seen something online and thought "wow, it would be nice to have this"? Aro had already added it to the list of possible birthday gifts.

Obviously he would buy them more meaningful gifts as well. For example, maybe the mate absolutely loves a certain book series, well Aro would commision someone to make them a special edition of the books.

His mate can expect to find love notes and poems all over the place on their birthday. Aro is a gifted writer and he makes sure to capture all the things that he admires about his mate. Which is pretty much everything. Seriously, he can barely name anything he doesn't like.

The entire day is planned carefully by Aro and he intends to go through with his plan unless something absolutely crucial needs his attention. In that case, he promises his mate that he'll make up for being away.

Aro will ask them to dance with him to their favorite songs. Whatever the song may be, he would find a way to dance with them.

It brings him great joy when he sees how his mate has so much fun. Especially if they are holding his hand while doing so. Aro loves it when he can bury himself in their mind.

When the day is coming to an end, he takes them to stargaze outside of Volterra, somewhere not that affected by light pollution. They both would look at the stars and hold hands while doing so. Aro would whisper sweet nothings in their ear, possibly slipping into other languages while doing so.

His mate can definitely say that their birthday was amazing, if not the best birthday they ever had.

Emperor Belos:

When it comes to Belos and celebrating birthdays, he actually prefers to not have a grand party for his beloved. He just thinks it would serve no reason and a private dinner or something similar means far more than anything else.

That being said, he is actually... hardly torn away from doing his Emperor duties. He must prepare for the Day of Unity after all. But after enough begging, he decides to humor his partner for a while.

I'm not saying that he didn't get them gifts, because of course he did. Belos is the type of person to hand-craft presents instead of buying them. He just feels it's far more personal that way.

Belos being the old fashioned man that he is, he writes them a heartfelt letter. As heartfelt as Belos can be of course. He would reminescence of their first date and the moment Belos realised he loved them.

Somehow the entire castle found out of their birthday, so the s/o can expect getting birthday wishes from most of the guards. Some (like Lilith, Kikimora and Hunter) even give them presents. Lilith and Kikimora just want to suck up to Belos of course, but Hunter's is more personal. After all, it's his uncle's lover.

As much as Belos denies it, he loves having matching things. So his beloved would get something for their birthday that matches something he owns. Perhaps it's a gadget he uses often, or a piece of clothing that he loves; he would get them something similar.

This day is the ONLY day he would allow them to wear his emperor outfit. Belos would watch them try to imitate him and would laugh along. After the day is over though, he makes sure to tell his s/o that they got their emperor-outfit-wearing priviledges revoked.

Obviously Belos knows everything on the Boiling Isles, which means that he knows all of the secret places that are just absolutely mesmerizing. He might just surprise his beloved with a trip to one of these places.

I believe at night, once the both of them are in bed, Belos would share some of his fond memories. That is probably the most sentimental his s/o had ever seen him. It's sort of a birthday present of sorts I suppose.

Now, if his lover REALLY wanted to have a big party, he might be convinced. He would use that to manipulate the Isles into believing that he is a kind man, but he would also just want to make his beloved happy. Belos is just a tiny bit twisted like that.

Absolutely the type of man who would ask for their s/o's hand in marriage on their birthday. I can just totally see that happen.

Elrond:

Oh Elrond, beautiful Elrond.

Now birthdays are a bit questionable for elves as well since... well, they are immortal. But, whenever Elrond and his beloved would celebrate their birthday, the elven Lord would make sure to make it unforgettable.

Elrond plans the whole day of course (if his s/o agrees into the planning).

First, they would wake up and receive breakfast in bed. Elrond would stay with them the whole time, smiling down at them as they eat. After that he takes them on a walk in the gardens where they would talk for hours.

If someone happens to "accidentally" play some music in the distance, Elrond would ask his lover on a dance. They would talk while doing so and laugh along when they accidentally trip and fall in the grass.

After the walk in the gardens, Elrond takes his s/o back to the main halls and leads them to a room that is decorated just for them. There awaits them Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen with smiles on their faces. All of them would give Elrond's beloved a gift while the Lord waits patiently.

Elrond's gift wouldn't be too grand but it would be meaningful. Most likely it is something he made with his own hands. Like if his beloved wears jewellery, he would make them something out of their preferred materials. Since courting is taken very seriously for elves, I believe they wouldn't commision anyone for a piece like that like humans would. The elves make important gifts themselves as it's more meaningful that way.

After a joyful lunch with music involved, Elrond brings his s/o outside to celebrate with the rest of Rivendell. It's a very carefree party where the elves play music and dance around with or without the s/o.

Once nighttime comes around, Elrond will get them away from the party and bring them to a clearing where they can watch the stars in peace. The stars are very important in an elf's life, so why not spend the last hours of their birthday looking at them.

Elrond would tell his beloved how much he loves them while in the comfort of the stars. He would also describe their relationship using great many metaphors.

At the end of their birthday, they walk back to the party and dance the night away.

Shadow Weaver:

We all know how Shadow Weaver loves gardening, right? Well, she would obviously put together a lovely bouqet for her s/o. It consits of their favorite flowers, or if they don't have any, flower in their favorite colors.

Shadow Weaver would wake her lover up by gently caressing their face and wishing them happy birthday once they open their eyes. After that she let's them eat breakfast before giving them the bouqet. It has a little note attached to it that is enchanted so it sparks little fireworks once it's opened.

Now, the sorceress is actually not that sure how to act in this situation because, let's be real, she did not partake in many relationships before. So her s/o will have to excuse if she's being a bit awkward.

She would get her beloved a cake, as suggested by Glimmer. It would be their favorite flavor and most likely would have frosting that is their favorite color.

Because Shadow Weaver is not very big on letting her feelings show, she wouldn't really give her s/o a speech about how much she loves them but she would try to write some of her feelings out in a form of a letter.

Once the s/o is ready, she will take them to her garden that is decorated just for them. It's more colorful than usual, but it still stays in the theme of the sorceress' taste.

Shadow Weaver would then lead them to a table that is decorated by candles. They would drink tea or something her beloved likes while talking. While outside, some residents of the castle would walk by to wish them happy birthday, especially Glimmer.

Once they're done with the little tea party, Shadow Weaver takes them out to a clearing in the Whispering Woods. There she reveals a picnic set up just for her s/o. While sitting and eating, Shadow Weaver finally gives them their present. It's something very personal.

The rest of the day consists of Shadow Weaver and her beloved watching the sunset and enjoying their picnic.

Thranduil:

Once again, the elves are a bit different about birthdays but Thranduil sure does throw a big party. Wine for the whole realm and dancing all night.

But before he gets to that, he makes sure that this day is the best day his s/o has ever had.

Thranduil wakes his beloved up by whispering to them and wishing them happy birthday. He let's them have breakfast in bed, while he eats beside them. After the breakfast he gives the plates to a servant while they stay in bed for some more quality time.

When they finally get up, Thranduil takes them on a stroll in the garden. They walk around, simply talking. Once they found a place where they could sit down, Thranduil gives them their first gift. It's a very personal gift that he made himself (much like Elrond).

While his s/o is looking at the gift, Thranduil whispers in their ear in elvish, explaining just how much he loves them. They stay there for some time before heading back to the palace.

Legolas would wish them happy birthday of course. If he likes them enough, he might make them a little carving of sorts and give it to them.

Thranduil showers his beloved in other types of presents as well. If they like wearing jewellery, he would get them something that matches his. Perhaps his s/o would like another sword? Something that fits them perfectly but also just so happens that matches Thranduil's weapon?

Once Thranduil and his lover had finished with the gift giving, he takes them to the dining room where an exquisite lunch/dinner is prepared for them. Some elves are playing music while they eat.

When they finish, they go to celebrate with the rest of the realm. Thranduil opens up the wine barrels for everyone to drink and all of the elves dance around while singing songs.

The Elvenking obviously would ask to dance with his s/o while most likely already drunk. His partner can also expect to hear a speech from him that is adressed to the entire realm. He talkes about how important his beloved is and expects everyone to respect them as such.

If his lover is more anxious, then he swoops them away from the party to dance alone in a more secluded area. After all, he only wants them to feel great on their birthday.

The day most likely ends with the drunk couple entering their chambers and laughing as they fall on their bed. Alternatively, if his lover isn't one to drink, Thranduil still gets pretty drunk and his s/o can deal with a far more affectionate King.

[academiareid]

Spencer Reid Boyfriend Headcanons

Part 4 gn!reader, birthday edition! (part 1, part 2, part 3)

He buys your birthday presents throughout the year so when it comes to it, he starts giving you presents throughout your birthday week and leaves the best/biggest present for your birthday

He wants to make your birthday cake but no matter how accurately he follows a recipe it somehow never turns out right so he sighs and heads to a bakery to buy you a birthday cake even though he desperately wanted to hand make it for you so it was more special

On the day of your birthday he gives you even more extra special treatment, you get breakfast in bed only after he spends a little too long cuddling you, kissing you and giving you a ridiculous amount of compliments

Before he goes to make you breakfast though he gives you your presents, then he gives you a love letter/poem he wrote and gives you space to read it as he makes you breakfast (you end up running into the kitchen to hug and kiss him as much as humanly possible because of how sweet the letter was, you ended up crying happy tears)

He then has set up his flat essentially like a spa where he hand puts on a face mask on you then gives you an extra long full body massage. He'll carry you to the bathroom where he's set up the bath with candles and lots of bubbles, he only gets in with you because you asked him to (he's sitting behind you, your back rests on his chest) and he hand feeds you chocolate covered strawberries whilst you sip on some wine (this ends up being a yearly birthday tradition for you)

Afterwords he helps you get dry and puts on your body lotion for you and helps you wash your face, he basically does everything for you so you don't have to lift a finger (and so he gets to touch you as much as possible and give you lots of kisses, on your body and face, in between)

He then gives you some alone time so you can get ready for what he has planned and once you come out of the room all dressed up and fancy he can't help but stare at you in awe unable to form any words but once he remembers to breathe he gives you even more compliments, resisting the urge to kiss you all over ruining all the hard work you put into getting ready

He gave Garcia the task of setting up your birthday party (he gave her very specific instructions for everything, she just had to put it all together) so when you both arrived every one of your friends (the team included) gave a speech on all the things they love about you. Saving Spencers speech for last of course, which had you tearing up

The whole night was all about you and Spencer spent the entire night making sure you were having fun and had everything you needed & taking care of you. When you both got home you ended up in his arms crying because you'd never felt more loved and telling him how much you appreciated and loved him

He didn't want to make you cry but he was holding you, glad to know they were happy tears and that he was able to show you how grateful he is for your presence in his life. He kissed the tears away, helping you get changed into your pyjamas & helping you wash your face and getting into bed for some more cuddles and love until you both fell asleep

If you'd like specific themes like this one, please lmk! you can send them as an ask if you'd like too♡

Part 5

Masterlist

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Elliott Falling in Love with the Farmer Headcanons

Hi! I saw a post similar to this about Harvey and I thought it was really cute, so I decided to make my own. For all the Elliott stans out there.

He's one of the first to welcome you to the town. He's only moved there a year ago, so he knows how it feels to be a newbie in an already well-connected town. It's short and polite, but he gives you some good tips on where you might find some people you haven't met yet.

He realises he's in love when he finds himself referencing you for ideas for his books. Usually, his ideas come from his mind or events of his past, not those around him - or not the extent it's happening with you.

At first, he's a bit panicky. I mean, it's a lot to have a crush on someone, let alone be in love with them. He gets over it after a while though. It's not the end of the world, and it just proves what a wonderful relationship you guys have.

You find gifts at your door a lot. It's usually pretty shells or a few flowers, so it's pretty obvious who it came from. Sometimes, though, you'll find something like a bracelet or some crab cakes. They usually come with a letter using such fancy calligraphy you can barely read it.

"Hello y/n. I hope you find this letter in good health. I found this on the beach; isn't it pretty? Do come visit sometime."

This man tries to hide his feelings, but in a way that makes them obvious. He denies any feelings he has for you, but them bombardes your mailbox with basically love letters telling you how pretty you are, how well you take care of the farm, how good of a friend you are, etc. He tries to cover it up by sending these same sorts of letters to his friends, but that only makes it more obvious to them. Leah starts sending these letters back mocking him.

You're everywhere. Poor man can't get enough of you. You find yourself as characters in his drafts, and he has an entire book dedicated to how much he loves you hidden under his bed.

He flaunts a lot more. He wants your attention, so he's going to try and get it as best he can. The amount of time put into his hair is doubled, so much he barely looks like the same person. You get sent snippets of his drafts almost every week with a letter asking what you think of it. Of course, you're nice in your response which only drives him to do it even more.

No matter how dense the farmer is, it becomes pretty damn obvious in the end, if it wasn't already. You're getting romantic boat rides, love letters and poems, special thanks in his books, longing stares wherever you are - surely you have to take notice, right? Even if somehow, you don't realise, everyone else has and will and is telling you at every moment, Leah especially. She's nudging you all the time and pointing to a lovestruck Elliott so deep in his daydreams he doesn't notice you staring at him.

-~-~- And done! I hope you enjoyed this, I put a lot of thought into it. It's a little short; I don't know all too much about Elliott. Either way, I like how it turned out and I hope you do too. :)

[your-local-hoemie]

ꕥ Genshin Impact ꕥ boyfriend headcanons, Inazuma edition~ part one.

This is a two part one cuz there’s a lot of characters and my brain only lets me write so many in one go >_<

I’m currently in the process of preparing to move in the next few months and hopefully starting a mortician apprenticeship so I’m exciteeddddd

Summary: Just head-canons about the Inazuma hotties :p

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, maybe a tiny bit suggestive, Gn!Reader, established relationship, not proof-read.

Characters: Heizou, Kazuha, Thoma.

Heizou~

Oh no. Suddenly I’m a criminal.

I sure hope no hot, flirty, pretty detectives come looking for me >:)

We all know how, um, Suggestive this man is.

He’s absolutely not subtle about his feelings towards you.

Always giving you little compliments followed by a wink.

He somehow manages to know exactly how to turn you into a giggling puddle within the first 20 minutes of hanging out.

Takes you on surprisingly? Very romantic dates!

His favourite is to bring you on a picnic under the Sakura’s or a quiet night with you both wrapped up in a blanket reading crime novels or cases he wants to share with you!

He doesn’t get jealous often.

Man has a EGO.

But on the rare occasion that he does, you can bet your ass that he’s going to be snarky as all fuck.

Not to you of course.

No no-

He’ll probably be overly clingy and flirty with you!

More than usual-

But the offending person will quickly get the idea that they’re on the receiving side of his wrath.

Might outright call them stupid hfkvjfod.

He’s into fishnets.

I’m sorry (I’m not) but he wears them too much for me to not believe this man would break the second he see’s you wearing them~

Also handcuffs ;)

I don’t think he’s the type to be overly protective of you.

Don’t get him wrong, he does worry!

He just know you’re capable of handling yourself in fights!

If you come back hurt, it’ll depend on the severity of how much he’ll worry.

If it’s just a few scrapes a bruises, he’ll likely patch you up while scolding you to be more careful!

“Man alive Y/N? *sigh* my occupation is ‘detective’ you know. Not doctor. Let’s try and keep it that way, hmm?”

But if it’s more serious then prepared to be babied hdhsjd

You won’t be allowed to do anything until he’s satisfied that you’ve recovered!

He’ll bring you the best food he can get his hands on in Inazuma along with cute plushies and will even work from your teapot instead of the office which makes him surprisingly more efficient-

If you ever get insecure about yourself then buckle up-

He’s prepared to give you his entire analysis on how he thinks you’re better than Celestia herself.

My guy has facts, evidence and probably a bulletin board to prove that to you!

He might be a little scared to say the special three words (aka “I love you”) at first but it doesn’t stay that way for long!

All it took was him seeing you, face first in a case file looking all disgruntled and frustrated with your nose scrunched up and his mouth spoke faster than what his brain could think.

He won’t say it all the time but he tells you at least once a day <333

He can’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to him, no matter how stubborn he is!

Kazuha~

I think I’ve made it obvious in my previous posts how pretty I think this boy is.

Like??????? Hello?????

God he would cHERISH YOU!!!

Definitely a little awkward at first but I head-canon that he’s actually really flirty!

He’s just super good at keeping it subtle enough that no one else notices shdufufuejjrifkAAAAAA

When he first started getting feelings for you Beidou referred to him as a literal love sick puppy.

He’s often sit on the end of the Crux (idk what ship parts are called) and write poems and haikus while looking up at the stars and blushing violently while thinking about you.

He definitely didn’t escape the crew’s teasing whenever he’d follow you around and seemed more giggly than usual!

Beidou was actually the one who got kinda tired of watching him run in circles so she set ya’ll up on a date without telling either of you-

Definitely said some cute poem when confessing!

“Like captured water, You hold me in your cupped hands. I flow on your palm.”

Haikus are confusing man wtf.

He definitely isn’t one for being kept in one place but it’s impossible not to notice how much longer he seems to stay around you!

And when feels the time is right for travelling again, he’ll often ask you to accompany him!

He’ll always bring you back a souvenir if you’re too busy to go with him!

Always tells you how it reminds him of you too!

Like he’ll bring back a red/pink sea shell and explain how the colour reminds him of when you blush or laugh so much your cheeks turn red.

He is protective of you but not overly.

He’ll voice his concerns about any dangerous commissions or quests you take on but if you’re insistent then instead of stopping you, he’ll accompany you!

He’s such a sweet, quiet boy so it comes to a big surprise the first time he protects you.

Actually raises his voice and shouts for you to get to safety (like when he shouted for that one dude to stop hiding)

Obviously he apologises after and explains he just wanted you to move so you didn’t get hurt :(

Completely random but I head-canon that he’s close to Yoimiya and every year for your birthday, he’ll bring you to Inazuma and take you to a really beautiful spot then set off fireworks that he planned with her!

And if you don’t like fireworks then he’ll still take you to a beautiful spot with a picnic and just watch the sunset with you~

Thoma~

Pretty boy, good boy.

House wife, even.

He doesn’t believe he deserves you :(

Reassure this boyo.

He fell head over heels from the very first moment!

Every time you talked he’d get so flustered and stutter on every other word hdjjddjd!

Ayaka obviously knew what was going on and you did as well!

The both of you made out a plan on how you would confess to him and when you did-

Oh boy-

He almost started crying ududieifjck

Hugged you so tight for like a solid 3 minutes!

Ever since then, he always picks a flower from the tea house where you both made it official and brings it home to you!!

He’s a good cook so you can bet your lucky ass that you’ll have breakfast in bed on his days off!!

He’d also help fix your clothes if they get ripped during fights!

Ayato would definitely find the situation amusing so don’t be surprised when thoma suddenly gets the day off~

He does get very easily flustered so pda would probably be kept to the minimum unless you want the poor boy melting into a blushing puddle.

He’s not overly protective of you but he does worry himself into a stupor!

Like he won’t stop you going out on commissions but the second he see’s a scratch or a bruise, it’s out with the first aid and a stern lesson on how to patch yourself up!

He’s even made a personal travel first aid bag for you!!

At night when you’re laying in bed, there’s absolutely nothing he loves more than telling you about his day or listen to your stories while you play with his hair!

You’ve both become somewhat unintentionally popular!

Not to mention the people who are just a tiiiiny bit jealous that you’re the lucky one and not them.

Which you totally don’t relish in, just a little~

He can’t help it!!

He just loves talking about you and how happy you make him! Obviously people are gonna talk about how cute y’all are :p

He’s banned you from playing the pot game.

No one really knows how but you managed to give everyone who played it a stomach ache for a solid week.

Boy also insisted on teaching you how to play chess!!

He totally hasn’t let you win a handful of times just because he couldn’t bare to see how sad you looked when you lost

he also just wanted the table to stay in one piece-

This man refuses to go to work or to bed without giving you a good morning or goodnight kiss!

He adores how cute you are when he reminds you that he loves you even if it’s in a simple gesture!!

Ya’ll, I haven’t slept for three days and the hat man is starting to morph into cyno.

Yes I’m totally fine :3

[selarina]

Ghosts in Love

-> Kageyama Tobio x Reader (ft. Suna Rintaro x Reader)

Chapter 2: Ill-Fitted Bonds

Summary: Amidst shared streets and familiar alleys, chance encounters with your ex at grocery stores or parks evolve into shopping together and sharing park benches.

Loosely inspired by the poem "Ghosts in Love" by Carl Sandburg

Content Warnings: post-breakup, childhood friends, pining, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, implied sexual content, angst, eventual smut

Word Count: 1.9k words

Taglist: Open

Author's Note: I apologize...BUT who’s side are you on? I need to know

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist

You don’t see Suna Rintaro for another 4 months, and you think he may have really taken you up on the offer to move. But you think you know him enough to know he would not put in the extra effort to do all that. He may simply be avoiding you, and for once, you find yourself thanking him for it.

You do see him on social media though, just the brief updates on his matches, and the occasional less-than-welcome selfies. Less than welcome because they make room for themselves in your head sometimes, not leaving for days on end. But it’s been 4 months and you realize today that you haven’t opened to check his account in two months. You smile, sipping on your tea. The taste is a bit more bitter than usual, but you kinda like it today. 

Your phone rings, and you put down the tea, a bit of it falling to the tip of your thumb. You hiss, as you reach for your phone, sliding and answering it. 

“Hey,” you answer. “Are you ready yet?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way,” he says, sounding out of breath yet somehow still yawning.

“Are you really, Tobio?” You ask, already aware as you deadpan.

“Okay, I haven’t left yet but I’m leaving soon, okay? I’m sorry — the alarm.” You fight the urge to groan but his voice comes out again, a little sheepish and a little ashamed, “I slept through it.”

“It’s okay,” you’re quick to reassure him because it really is, you haven’t got much to do today. “Call me when you leave, and I’ll leave too, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Leaving soon,” he says.

You cut the call, and decide to book a cab to the cafe, deciding on waiting there for him to come. You wanted to finish your tea, and finish this crossword anyway, you think.

—

The crowd bustles a bit loudly for your liking, it’s usually that the cafe provides a sort of white noise effect wherein the voices get unanimous at some point, blurring things out for you to focus but it’s not working today. You groan, but dissolve into a smile, when you catch Tobio coming your way.

“Hi,” you say, going up to him and engulfing him in a hug. Per usual, he smells good, a bit like bergamot twined with notes of cedar. 

“You smell good,” you say, allowing yourself to rest your head on his shoulders for a moment.

“You always say that,” his voice reverberates through his body, and you can feel it against your own. 

You pull away, smiling, “Well, you always smell good.” You smooth down your clothes as you sit down. “I ordered your usual, it should be done soon,” you add.

“Thank you,” he says, sitting stiffly, but a bit slouched.

“You’ve been sleeping in a lot lately,” you say, referring to not only today’s delay but yesterday’s and the day before that, and the entire week before that.

“I don’t know I’ve got myself into a cycle, and I can no longer sleep on time,” he sulks, pouting very visibly. You feel the urge to pinch his cheeks, but you fight it. “It’s annoying.”

“Ah, is it because of that one day you stayed up?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, “I should never have done that,” he mutters.

“It’s not that hard to fix,” you say, and he perks up just a bit.

“And?” He asks, a bit impatient as he’s suddenly pulling in closer to you.

“Just tire yourself out, and you’ll sleep soon as you hit your bed,” you say. 

“Guess I’ll gym a bit harder?” He says.

You frown, raise your brows, and clear your throat. “Or we could go out?” 

He looks at you, a bit studded, but not entirely shocked. “Okay,” he responds.

“What?” You ask, startling him a bit with your loudness. You turn to the lady sitting behind you, “I’m so sorry. Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Of course.”

You turn back to face him, raising your brows. “What? I’ve been meaning to ask anyway,” he says. 

—

You find yourself walking hand in hand with Tobio, into the restaurant. You’re not sure how this will tire him out into sleeping in early, but you do suppose it was merely an excuse to ask him out on your part. Why he’s agreeing to this is beyond you, but you walk beside him as though it isn’t.

You’ve known Tobio for almost his entire life — sometimes distantly, sometimes closely. It changes on and on over time, but you remember always thinking of him as someone you would want to be. Chasing his dreams with endless fervor, how he was at playing ball, even when you were all merely 4 years old with no real concept of winning or losing. It was and is rather inspirational, moderation notwithstanding. But it’s rarely easy to be around him without feeling like you’re wearing ill-fitted clothes all the time.

“It’s under Kageyama Tobio,” he says. “Of course, sir.” The uniformed man smiles warmly at him and turns to smile at you. You mirror him stiffly, almost like a well-practiced routine. “Right this way, please.”

Tobio smiles, his hand coming to squeeze yours before he pulls you to walk in tandem with him as the two of you follow the host, and that’s more than enough to break you out of your stupor.

You haven’t noticed it but Tobio Kageyama is unlike you, as you’ve mentioned but he is also very much like you. He walks stiffly like he doesn’t necessarily belong in this restaurant like you’re his only tether to this place as he tightly grasps your hand. You suppose it’s why he’s the only childhood friend you have retained. The thing about wearing ill-fitted clothes though, is very much who he is sometimes. In whispered conversations on his balcony, he tells you this, bears his heart out, and you find that you had misunderstood, or just half-understood him. And since that day, you’ve kept each other at arm's length.

You joke that he’s afraid you’re going tell people about all his vulnerabilities and that is the sole reason why he keeps you close. He jokes about the same. But you think what you’ve come to find is an attachment of some sort. You smile. 

Contrastingly, when the host asks a myriad of questions about preferences and allergies, he answers deftly, like a well-oiled machine, oozing confidence, and a little charm as he chuckles, a chuckle that reverberates deeply within you. You hold your breath, as he gently pulls your chair out, takes your coat, and helps you place it neatly behind your chair, pushing your chair, before he goes on to sit opposite you.

The restaurant is big, but the tables are small. More intimate you suppose, his face is only a feet away. 

“So,” you drawl. “Is this where you charm all your dates Kageyama Tobio?” You smirk, “Pretty neat, I must say.”

“Stop,” he softly blushes. You smirk harder. “Charm? Are you stupid?” 

Your raise your brows, as he continues, “I can’t charm…” He looks away.

“Hm? I think the list of very beautiful and talented women you’ve dated suggests otherwise,” you smile. It’s not hard to figure out a public figure’s dating history, you’re not sure how much of these are true but you would tease him regardless.

“Well, that’s only because I’m good-looking,” he says with a hard pause. It comes off cocky, but you smile you know him, and because he states more like an observation. A fact, one you can’t help but find yourself agreeing with as the night passes. “I mean, t—that’s what I’ve been told.” He blushes harder, and you almost want to make it all stop, but he’s just so cute like this. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop,” you chuckle. He stares blankly as you continue to ease into a smile.

“You like the place?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s really nice. Very…” You look up from the menu to see he’s looking at you intently, the soft yellow from the candle hitting light onto his ocean-blue eyes. “Intimate.”

His brows raise, just barely, you think you should change the topic. “Have you been here before?” 

“Uh, yeah. I come here alone, sometimes the team comes too.” He says, his eyes flitting down to the menu again, flipping the page. “But also, with Miwa whenever she’s in the city. She really likes this place,” he adds.

“Ah?” 

“Yeah, a celebrity once showed up at the same time we were here, and ever since then — she always drags me here hoping someone will show,” he looks up, his face comically blank. 

You smile. She would do that, wouldn’t she? It’s been so long since you’ve met his sister, you remember only being able to stand her before you started to understand how Tobio really worked, you think maybe without her you wouldn’t be here with Tobio.

“Tell her I said hello,” you say as you beckon the waiter, seeing that you’re both ready to say your orders.

—

You both start walking out of the restaurant, with your coat snugly wrapped around you by Tobio, you stroll out just as you had entered the establishment, hand-in-hand.

“The food was so good,” you say. “Very filling. I can definitely see why after practice version of you loves showing up here.”

He doesn’t say anything, simply walking in step with you, a beat later and you’re both waiting for his car. Your hand comes up to loop through his bicep, using him as you place weight onto him. He remains barely fazed. You’re tired, and you’re about to entirely lean on him as you notice him. His hands are pocked in his pants pockets as he talks to a couple of people around him,

Your eyes flit back to him as his hair sweeps across his face with the night. He’s cut his hair, and you have to say he looks better than he did during your very last encounter. You feel better somehow. He appears to chuckle mutedly at something his friends have said and you can almost hear him chuckle, right up from behind you, right into your ears, as his hands begin wandering all over your body. You hold your breath, sweeping that thought away.

He turns just in time, his eyes falling onto your face as his eyebrows twitch in recognition. You let go of your breath, but you’re not sure what you should ideally do. Raise your hand, and wave at him. And then you realize your hands are looped through Kageyama’s. 

Oh.

You stare at him, as he smiles. There isn’t a hint of emotion on his face that suggests anything but you feel guilty for some reason. It doesn’t last long because a lady in a purple dress — attractive, swoops through breaking both of your eye lines. She falls, as he reaches quickly to hold her by her waist. She swoops her hand through and over his neck, and that’s all you see before you force yourself to look away.

“That was him?” Kageyama’s soft voice comes from right beside you in a hushed voice, like he’s almost telling you it’s okay if you don’t want to tell him. You can blame it on the night air eating his question away. “Suna Rintaro, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling guilt all over. It’s okay, you think but it’s only that you’re not sure what exactly it is that you’re feeling guilty over.

Your car swoops through right in front of you, your coat rising, as Kageyama notices, and placates it with his hand. “You okay just leaving?” He asks.

“Yeah, just take me home.”

Taglist: @alienvarmint @sagejin

[sailoryooons]

Hello my lovely friend 😌 I’m so so so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished this past year! And thank you for letting me be a small part of your time here 💜

Also pls give me some unhinged urban fantasy Yoonmin to feed my sick soul 🙏🏽 I love you 😈 보라해

❀ Pairing: Half-demon!Yoongi x Demon Lord!Jimin 

❀ Summary: samsara [sɘm-sӓr-ɘ](noun) : the indefinitely repeated cycles of birth, misery, and death caused by karma. OR: Yoongi has made a terrible mistake that has bound Jimin to a life of endless grief. 

❀ Word Count: 4,060

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, angst, smut, lovers to not?

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Vague world-building, mention of guns and Yoongi is restrained the entire time, angst!!!!, Yoongi has fucked over Jimin, references to Christian theology, mentions of scars, Jimin is mean, sexually explicit content including light blood play, restraints, spit play, no anal prep or foreplay, unprotected sex (anal penetration), ONE kiss even though I wanted to write more, very disconnected/angry sex, no aftercare, Yoongi and Jimin are fucking sad!!!! And distant!!!! Not a happy ending really? Just vague. 

❀ Published: April 1, 2023

❀ A/N: Jai thank you so much for trusting me to write this for you. I know that the original picture is a little bit more … unhinged and I was planning to go far more unhinged with this, but somehow the poem really made me more angsty and I loved the bit about two-hundred and ten million years of desire wash through me and I really tried to channel that here. I at least still have the image of Yoongi being tied up with Jimin on top of him with a gun lmao. Thank you for being here and making me love writing in this community so much. ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST MEMBER X MEMBER FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN SO BE FUCKING NICE TO ME PLEASE I’M VERY FUCKING SCARED RIGHT NOW. 

Thank you @here2bbtstrash for beta reading and making this perfect ily and I love our totally legit monogamous relationship

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Yoongi might be having a bad night. Really, he knows that it’s fifty-fifty. He can feel the weight of drugs making him sluggish, eyes too heavy to open. There’s a tight squeeze around his arms, which are pinned to his body. When he squirms, he feels the constriction of what he thinks are ropes or cables - it’s hard to tell through the leather of his jacket. 

There’s definitely pain blooming from his skull, a throb that beats in time with his heart. It’s part of the reason why he keeps his eyes closed as he tries to suss out the rest of his scenario, tied up and drugged as he is. He can smell the sheets - his own, for sure. That’s his sage shampoo he smells and the soft rub of jersey knit against his cheek. 

Tied up, drugged, and in his own bed.

It’s definitely fifty-fifty where this is going to go. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been drugged and tied up only to receive the best orgasm of his life. However, he has also had his ass beat after fucking up a contract for Hoseok, starting in this exact scenario.

Someone moves in the room. Yoongi keeps his breathing even and soft, feigning sleep as he listens. His hearing is sharper than most, but the footfalls of the other person are inaudible to him. When he hears a sound again, it’s something like a scoff. Purposeful. 

They know he’s awake, and they know he’s listening. 

Still, Yoongi’s captor doesn’t say anything. The bed dips near Yoongi’s feet. Not significantly, indicating his kidnapper is smaller- can he be kidnapped if he’s home? The soundless way they move rules out humans. Yoongi can’t even hear them breathe as they crawl up his legs, the sound of material scratching against material the only thing he can make out.

Fuck. They’re dressed, which leads Yoongi to believe this isn’t the kind of restraint that leads to fun. He’s a little disappointed, sagging into the bed as the weight of a person - or creature - settles on his waist.

He doesn’t move, waiting for them to make the first move. Yoongi runs through a list of enemies and internally winces. It’s long, and so many of them are recent that he thinks the weight sitting on top of him could be there to collect any number of debts. 

Cold metal kisses Yoongi’s cheek. He shivers in response immediately, gut flipping as goosebumps break out up and down his arms. As a half-demon, he’s not as susceptible to temperatures as full humans are, and he’s not invulnerable like a full-blooded demon. But the metal against his skin tingles, vibrating at a frequency that he can barely detect. 

Brimstone. 

Fuck. The list of enemies that own a gun made with brimstone alloy grows shorter, but Yoongi is none the wiser. 

“Come on,” the voice urges, barely above a whisper. “You gonna fucking look at me or what?”

That voice pulls Yoongi’s eyes open immediately, his head turning to blink away the swimming colors and whirling lights as his vision melts into place. His mouth falls open slightly as he looks up to see Jimin peering down at him, head cocked and frowning.

Yoongi’s heart thunders in his chest as he fights between trying to find something to say and drinking in the vision that is Jimin. He looks a little bit different. His hair is longer than it was last time, shorter on the sides than in the back, almost in a mullet but not quite. He’s a slip of a thing but heavy, indicating there’s weight on his wiry frame. 

And his face. Hells, his face is devastating. Siren eyes staring at him, sucking the breath from Yoongi as he gazes and gazes and gazes. He could stare into Jiimin’s eyes forever, falling head over heels into their bottomless depths as he loses sense of the world. 

Jimin smirks and presses the gun in his hand to Yoongi’s cheek hard enough that the metal is pushing uncomfortably against his cheekbone. Yoongi doesn’t care, gaze sweeping over the rest of his captor. Smug, full lips that are always a natural shade of rose, narrow nose with the perfect rounded tip, and an angry scar that vanishes into the collar of Jimin’s black jacket. 

Yoongi turns his attention from the scar before thinking about it and then looks again, not wanting Jimin to notice.

But it’s Jimin. One of the many Lords of Hell. He notices, and the gun digs in a little deeper as Jimin’s face morphs from beautiful to terrible. “What?” Jimin seethes. “Don’t like seeing your work? You should admire it, Yoongi. True fucking art isn’t it?” 

“You’re beautiful.” His voice comes out hoarse from disuse. He licks his lips which are dry and cracked. “With and without it.” 

“I never said I wasn’t.” 

Yoongi feels the space between them so much at these times. The first few minutes of seeing him again are always the worst to navigate. Sometimes Jimin is so full of hate that there’s no crossing the rough waters between them. Sometimes Jimin is so full of grief that Yoongi capsizes in the storm. 

They are best in the middle. Somewhere between hate and want. 

“Why am I all tied up?” He wiggles at the rope. He’s starting to lose feeling in his arms, a soft tingle settling from his elbows to fingers. He looks down at the gun - a pistol, dark black and buzzing with the energy of a Hell-made weapon. “And why is there a gun pointed at me?”

“I thought about killing you.” There’s no sign on Jimin’s face as to whether he means it or not. “Didn’t want to do it while you were asleep, though.” 

“A weapon like this would do it.” Yoongi feels his breath catch as something angry flickers in Jimin’s eyes and he feels the need to add, “Permanently. This would kill me permanently.” 

“I know.” 

It hangs in the air between them, the finality of Jimin’s admission. That he thought about killing Yoongi. Not for the first time over the years they have been playing this game. Sometimes, Jimin even conceded to killing Yooongi. Small deaths. Minor deaths. Impermanent. The kind that sends Yoongi to the edge of Hell where he at least gets to see Namjoon occasionally. 

Those meetings are always awkward when the Guardian of Hell sees Yoongi standing in the corner, alone and not in line with others waiting to be sorted. Namjoon always gives him the same smile and pat on the back. 

“It’s nice to see you,” Namjoon always says. “Alas, this one isn’t permanent. I’ll see you next time he sends you, yeah?”

Sometimes Yoongi just nods, toeing his boot in the gravel before Namjoon’s eyes go white with light and Yoongi is flooded with blinding pain as he’s sent back topside. Other times, he’s more talkative. 

Now, Yoongi stares down the barrel of something that wouldn’t send him to Namjoon. It would send him straight to Seokjin, who has an empty cell waiting for Yoongi. 

“Well,” Yoongi murmurs. He looks up to see Jimin watching him. He’s no longer expressionless. There is pain in those eyes - eons of it. Yoongi tries to figure out how to get Jimin away from his grief, how to walk him back toward the safe zone between hatred and… something else. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did it.”

“It wouldn’t fix this.” Jimin’s hand comes up to the rough scar on his neck, jagged and knotted red. “It wouldn’t fix me.”

It’s true. What Yoongi did to keep Jimin will never let him go, even if Yoongi dies. It had been done out of… desire, out of want, out of something that was so confused with love that Yoongi had sacrificed Jimin’s free will to keep him bound to earth, year after year, decade after decade. At the time, Yoongi thought that the word was love. He did it out of love. 

Now he knows that love could not do something like this. Love cannot be responsible for Yoongi taking the knife to Jimin’s neck, spilling his blood over the sacred ground to taint it and make it an anchor point. Love could not have driven Yoongi, half-assed in magic, to bind Jimin to earth for longer than he was allowed. 

Love could not have been responsible for Yoongi condemning Jimin to a life of recurring pain. To agony. All for one week of time with him. A single blip in the endless abyss of their lives.  

Lords cannot walk topside, Jimin had gasped, that wet, death-rattle sound. You cannot undo this. 

As a Lord of Hell, Jimin’s time allotted on earth was only snippets of hours. Too powerful to walk the earth, he and the others are only given tiny moments to walk among the living, to see the vitality of life pulsing through the streets. 

Punishment for anything longer than that is endless torture at the end of Belial’s fiery whip. It is eons of time passing between eternal lashes and the snatch of one week that Jimin is bound to exist on earth. 

It only took a collection of hours for Yoongi to want Jimin - for he cannot call it love, now. Stolen moments pressed so firmly behind Yoongi’s eyes when he sleeps that it makes him dizzy. Makes him sick, to feel and relive the memories. 

But Yoongi is bad at magic, and now Jimin is bound to a week on earth once every year. Beyond his allotted limit. Beyond what is allowed. And thus, the cycles of Jimin’s life have been secured: A week on earth between years and years of punishment in Hell for breaking the rules. Eons of time passing differently from that on earth, with Jimin suffering for Yoongi trying to steal more than hours with Jimin. 

But Yoongi is bad at magic and didn’t realize he bound Jimin to the earth. Not to Yoongi. So Jimin would live on in this hellish cycle even without Yoongi. 

“I should do it,” Jimin murmurs. His eyes are distant and Yoongi knows that Jimin is weighing the consequences. 

For one week, he gets to stay here. To do what he wants with his time. Sometimes he spends his week never leaving Yoongi’s bed. Sometimes he spends it inflicting as much pain and suffering on Yoongi as he can. Sometimes, he spends it trying to find a way out from Yoongi, from this. 

“But I’ve been living this curse for this long with you. Perhaps I could do it a little longer.” 

The words aren’t romantic, but Yoongi’s heart flutters. He watches as Jimin heaves a sigh, pulling the heavy weight of the gun from Yoongi’s cheek. There is a dull throb there, his sensitive skin bruising already as Jimin leans, shifting his weight to put the gun on the table.

Jimin’s movement creates friction against Yoongi’s crotch and his stomach flips, arousal shooting straight to his cock. He hates it, that something as simple as this with Jimin can have that effect. He feels flushed as Jimin settles his weight back on Yoongi, sitting directly on his dick where the blood starts to flow.

Yoongi’s fingers flex, needing to squirm somewhere. He doesn’t dare move his hips, but he needs to move, needs to fidget as the feeling sinks deeper into his stomach. 

Jimin looks down at him and it’s the most beautiful thing Yoongi has ever seen. He wouldn’t mind if it were Jimin who sent him to that permanently reserved spot in Hell for him. Yoongi deserves it and has been evading permanent death for almost two hundred years now, as befits the bastard son of Hell’s prince.

Only Jimin can send Yoongi to that place forever, now. Only Jimin has the power and pull to do it without Yoongi’s sire stepping in. 

Stupid boy, the Prince of Hell had whispered when Yoongi admitted it to his father, that Wednesday it was raining some time ago. Anchoring a Lord to this mortal plane. I will not let him go unpunished. Not for you, not for him. He will suffer like the others, and so will you, should he decide he’s had enough of you and your endless folly. 

Yoongi always wonders when Jimin will decide he’s had enough. He hopes it’s not tonight, though. Not with the way Jimin’s face has softened, finally drifting away from grief and despair to something else. 

“I’m tired,” Jimin admits. He drops his hands to fiddle with the hem of Yoongi’s shirt. Delicate fingers brush against hot skin and Yoongi can’t help but wiggle his hips this time. He lets out a sound between a sigh and a whine and the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts as he watches Yoongi through half-lidded eyes. “Alright, then.” 

Shadow fills the room. Yoongi looks to see that night has blocked out the window. Inside his room, it’s just Jimin’s pressing shadow and a single lamp glowing over by the door. Somehow, Yoongi feels comforted by the throbbing of Jimin’s shadow magic and the way that Jimin’s hands drift to unbutton his jeans. 

Yoongi’s breath is stuck in his chest as Jimin’s small fingers work the zipper. Jimin has always been small, but mighty. A force to be reckoned with, a shadow storm beneath skin. It’s what Yoongi loved - admired - most about Jimin. How he moves through the world unchallenged and respected. How he loves when Yoongi fights him, challenges him, and questions him as no one else dares. 

Now, Yoongi doesn’t think Jimin admires Yoongi’s challenges. It was Yoongi’s challenge to rules and fate that got them into this reincarnated week of hell. 

Whatever was between them had died a long time ago. But there is still want, and as Yoongi’s jeans scrap down his thighs and he shivers when Jimin nips at his knee, the want is all he can think about. 

It is in his blood, this craving for Jimin. This need, this desire, this unhinged aching feeling that claws at Yoongi’s belly. The same insanity that drove him to destroy Jimin for a single sliver of time and tie him to the mortal world. 

Jimin doesn’t untie Yoongi. It makes Yoongi a little dizzy as Jimin shucks his jeans all the way off, leaning forward to bite savagely into the meat of Yoongi’s thigh. He cries out, both in pain and a bolt of pleasure. He’s hard now, cock throbbing as Jimin’s breath ghosts over Yoongi’s thighs. Jimin leans back, eyes locking on Yoongi as he sheds his clothes.

It’s a sight to see. Jimin had been an angel once, before that long one-trip fall. He can see the grace in Jimin’s beauty. Soft cheeks and lips, supple thighs and ass, ribbon curves like a dancer. But there’s shadow too, the hard cut of Jimin’s jaw, the sharpness of his eyes as they land on Yoongi, the powerful muscle corded in his compact body. 

Yoongi very much feels like prey as Jimin kneels on the bed, naked. He’s beautiful, a rendition of Michaelangelo’s David but with a much bigger cock, thick and brown at the tip, dripping beads of precum. Yoongi makes a needy sound. He doesn’t mean to, but it comes out when he sees how hard Jimin is. 

“Shut up,” Jimin bites out and Yoongi bites his lip hard. Doesn’t make a sound, though his feet dig into the bed and he’s hot all over, suffocating as he’s naked from the waist down and trapped in a jacket and shirt. He wants Jimin to take the rest off, to feel Jimin’s skin. “Don’t be a whore.” 

Yoongi is dizzy. He wants to be a whore, if it gets him closer. If he has to act like one to get the damn clothes off, he thinks he just might. But he gets distracted, watching as Jimin fists his cock, pumping leisurely and tilting his head back, golden lamplight painting him, making him glow. 

Golden boy, so full of pain. 

Jimin stops stroking himself to crawl up Yoongi’s body. Yoongi holds his breath as Jimin cages him in, leaning forward so their noses are almost touching. Yoongi searches for softness in Jimin’s eyes, but there is none. Not for him, not anymore. Want, sure. Desire, sure. But nothing more than the craving for Yoongi in Jimin’s blood.

Jimin’s cock brushes against Yoongi’s and even the barest hint of skin on skin sends a zap of pleasure down his spine and he bites his bottom lip, trying to keep quiet like asked. He tastes metal and salt in his mouth, lip bleeding from the force of his bite. 

“Just one,” Jimin says, more to himself than to Yoongi. 

And then Jimin kisses him and nothing else matters. 

Jimin’s tongue tangles with Yoongi’s in a lick of warmth and blood. Yoongi’s world spins as their mouths melt together, slow and heated. There’s no air in his lungs and he doesn’t care, lifting his head, sucking Jimin’s tongue into his mouth.

Yoongi’s neck and chest feel hot and the room is tilted on its axis when Jimin rolls his hips against Yoongi’s. He moans into Jimin’s mouth, his skin tingling as pleasure curls through him, cock leaking and sticky against Jimin’s as he continues to devour Yoongi’s mouth. 

It feels like he’s in a shitty hotel room stealing a moment with Jimin again, frotting against one another in a rush of heat and borrowed time. He wiggles his arms, trying to free himself, trying to grab a hold of Jimin and feel him. He wants so badly to-

Jimin pulls away and Yoongi’s eyes snap open. Blood is smeared across Jimin’s mouth and he’s not looking Yoongi in the eye. 

“Jimin-”

“No,” he answers, not looking up. He spits in his hand, fluid tinged pink from Yoongi’s blood in his mouth. He closes his eyes and leans back, stroking himself a few times with one hand as he pushes Yoongi’s thighs open with another. “I said one.” 

Yoongi realizes what he meant now. One kiss. It was all he was allowing Yoongi to have. Or perhaps, all he was willing to take.

Grief threatens to take away the vibration under Yoongi’s skin from the feeling of Jimin against him, but he ignores it in favor of squirming when Jimin grabs his cock and prods Yoongi’s tight rim. He grinds his teeth, realizing Jimin isn’t going to prep him or stretch him wide before fucking him. Yoongi deserves the pain, he supposes. 

Instead of begging Jimin to wait, Yoongi opens his legs wider. Doesn’t complain that he’s still tied up for Jimin to do what he wants, still half-clothed and unable to feel anything except the pulsing throb of his cock and Jimin’s tip breaching the tight ring of Yoongi’s ass. 

The burn is intense. Yoongi holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut, unable to think beyond the ringing in his ears and the way Jimin pushes into him. Yoongi tries to relax but can’t, his body shivering as it flips between pain and pleasure. Jimin is at least slow, the push of his cock against Yoongi’s tight walls both delicious and terrible all at once. 

Yoongi’s vision dances in front of him, pulses black at the edges. He gasps, suddenly remembering to breathe as Jimin bottoms out, holding all of his weight where his hips rest against Yoongi’s ass, waiting and letting Yoongi spasm around him. His walls hug Jimin’s cock tight. His muscles twitch and scream at the intrusion. 

It hurts but Yoongi doesn’t care. It’s good - better than good. He is so so full, Jimin buried inside of him, and he’s kicking his feet on the bed, needing more, wanting more. He doesn’t know if he says it or if Jimin is done waiting because he pulls back, cock dragging against Yoongi and he nearly passes out with relief. 

Yoongi is seeing stars, fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt as Jimin starts to fuck him in earnest. Yoongi’s breath punches out of him with every snap of Jimin’s hips, as though the Lord of Hell can fuck the oxygen from his lungs. It feels like he is, hitting deep inside Yoongi where he swears only Jimin can reach. 

Jimin is vicious, hands clawing the sheets as he leans forward and slams into Yoongi, the smacking of his hips drowning out Yoongi’s gasping breath. He feels like he’s being driven to the edge of madness, tight rim swallowing Jimin’s cock whole.

Shadows dance around Jimin. They curl at his collarbone, hiding his scar from Yoongi. They drift around his arms, and ghost over his flexing stomach. Both Jimin and his shadows don’t touch Yoongi though, and if he wasn’t so fucked out from the feeling of finally having Jimin back, he might cry. 

Maybe he will later. 

The burn lessens as Jimin jostles Yoongi suddenly. The contact is brief and cold - he realizes Jimin moved him with his shadows rather than with his hands. He swallows hard as Jimin pushes his sweaty hair back with one hand, never stopping the fluid roll of his hips fucking into Yoongi. Yoongi’s mind turns to white noise at the sight. 

He goes to reach for Jimin and remembers he’s tied up. Yoongi notes he has no feeling in his arms but he doesn’t care, not when Jimin adjusts his stroke and fuck. His cock hits Yoongi just right, pressing against his prostate and Yoongi starts to babble.

This time, Jimin doesn’t tell Yoongi to shut up. He lets the slurred string of noises leave Yoongi’s mouth as Yoongi starts to go slack under Jimin, letting the pleasure drag him under. He feels lost in it, swimming in this feeling that ebbs and ebbs and ebbs until it’s a pulsing inferno that feels like it's going to corrode him from the inside out. 

“Come on,” Jimin grunts, teeth clenched. “Come for me. Just like you know how to.”

Just like you know how to. 

Suddenly, Yoongi is back to before. 

When they were just Yoongi and Jimin, not meeting in this weekly cycle of endless misery that he has signed them up for. 

When Jimin would catch Yoongi late at night, slipping in with his shadows to wake Yoongi up.

When Jimin would fuck Yoongi to desperation, sweaty chests pressed together and moving in the moonlight coming in from the window.

When Yoongi would come, cock pressed between the two of them, sticky and messy, and mouth tangled with Jimin, the slow push of Jimin’s cock making Yoongi insane. 

Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He wants to see Jimin. He knows he’s about to come, that fire inside of him ready to unleash. But he wants to see Jimin as he does it. As if that will make it better, this detached, feral thing that exists between them. 

Jimin is a vision. He hovers over Yoongi, a being of shadow and light, stuck somewhere in between. He is so beautiful and impermanent. Yoongi only gets these moments in flashes, when their paths cross inevitably. When Jimin comes to find him, that one week of the year. 

There is salt on Yoongi’s tongue when he comes with Jimin’s name shaped in his mouth. He realizes he’s crying. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Jimin doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, chasing his high with a furious snap of his hips and a snarl on his face. 

Yoongi fades. His eyes roll back as he drifts somewhere else, letting Jimin use him for his orgasm. He hears him growl once, slamming into Yoongi so deep that it pulls him just a little from the dreamless, listless haze of his comedown. 

At some point, he thinks he falls asleep. Or maybe something like sleep, because he vanishes from the room, but he feels Jimin pull out. Feels the wet gush of his hole, feels the afterburn of Jimin’s visit.

But when he opens his eyes, there’s no one there. There are no shadows, there is no Jimin. The illusion of being able to have anything with Jimin shatters. Yoongi knows it will keep shattering, a mirror broken in an endless cycle of misfortune.

Yoongi is left alone and waiting for Jimin’s next visit. For the next time that Jimin is dragged from where he lay flayed, only to exist in the samsara Yoongi has shackled him to. 

[tricoloured-cat]

what better way to procrastinate than to write random stuff

reviewing the works that the abilities were based on

Part 1: Armed Detective Agency

I just realized that I've finally read all the works attributed to the abilities of the author's BSD counterparts, at least for the ADA. I plan to do this for all organizations in the BSD universe so I can direct my reading and actually finish something HAHA

DISCLAIMER: I am not an expert on literature, let alone Japanese literature, and my short reviews are solely my opinion as a casual reader. These are all for fun so please don't take these so seriously!

Nakajima Atsushi Ability: Beast Beneath the Moonlight Original Work: Moon Over the Mountain

This short story has the vibes of a folktale but with existential dread sprinkled throughout. The prose is calm but the agony still reverberates. I liked this more than I though I would, perhaps because of how clean it felt. Honestly this would be one of the OG works I'd recommend to a BSD fan who wants to try classic Japanese literature.

Dazai Osamu Ability/Original Work: No Longer Human

This is probably the one novel/work most BSD fans would pick up first - and for a good reason. The themes are pretty universal albeit heavy, the tone of the narrator throughout the entire novel is gripping, the translation by Donald Keene is very readable, and it's just in the most general sense a summary of Dazai-sensei's own life. The last point must be taken with a grain of salt, however, as he's a master liar - something you'll find out if you dig more into his life and other works. If you'd like to see depression in book form, this is for you.

Kunikida Doppo Ability: Doppo Poet Original Work: Doppo Collection (probably)

Here's a case of "I can't really find the original work so I'll be reviewing something else instead"

Reviewing: Those Unforgettable People

I chose to talk about this one since it's the one found in the Penguin Anthology. It's an interesting mix of forms: technically, it's a short story. However, the elements of poetry and even of the essay are present - mostly the latter, tbh. Of course the whole "ideal" thing is such a Kunikida-sensei thing that it appears it almost every story he wrote, yet somehow in this one you'll have to squint a little bit more to see it. The point of this story-essay-poem thing is at the very end (the first half is quite dragging imo) is what gives it a little oomph, but honestly I much prefer his other works (specifically Old Gen and Death).

Tanizaki Jun'ichirou Ability/Original Work: Sasameyuki

You like a slow burn? You like pain? Familial drama? Maybe you'll like this. Maybe you won't. It's a mammoth of a book that feels like a series of extremely detailed telenovela episodes - not that it's necessarily a bad thing. I enjoyed it despite the length because the way it ends, although hardly strong at all, ties the themes and messages of the novel cleanly into a single scene.

Miyazawa Kenji Ability/Original Work: Be Not Defeated by the Rain

It's a poem every Japanese elementary student would know. The message and style is so simple yet beautiful (I read Sulz's translation). It's joyful and so sunny... until I read the background on it. I cried over his work. Again. (Night on the Galactic Railroad PLS) Man I just love this author so much. But I'm not really a poem person to begin with, so take this review with a grain of salt HAHA

Yosano Akiko Ability/Original Work: Thou Shalt Not Die

The only complete translation I could find is written in painfully archaic English, so I won't comment on the style HAHA. But I do think the original was just as pointed in its words and message; its anti-war sentiments and middle finger to the Japanese emperor and military (at the time) so characteristically Yosano-sensei. It's sad she'd support WW2 later on - come on sensei WHY

Personally, however, I prefer her shorter poems, specifically the ones from River of Stars. But I'm not really a poem person to begin with, so take this review with a grain of salt HAHA

Izumi Kyouka Ability: Demon Snow Original Work: Demon Pond

It's been a while since I've read a play, and perhaps that's why I had a hard time getting through the first half - either that or it was quite lackluster as most of the actual story happens in the second half. Its influences from folktales and traditional Japanese theater (i.e. kabuki and noh) are very apparent - I wish I could have seen it instead of read it because of that. I think this is the first work of Kyouka's that I actually liked (I've read some of his short stories and one of his other plays) so I'll definitely recommend this one if you want to start with this author. There's also a movie adaptation of it that I haven't watched yet (but I do plan to). I think it could be much better than just reading it as is because of the visuals and mood setting, but a review on that soon. Maybe.

Fukuzawa Yukichi Ability: All Men Are Created Equal Original Work: An Encouragement of Learning (Sec. 1-2)

I couldn't be bothered to read the whole thing, but the essence of the ability only comes from the first two sections (which I'll be reviewing).

It's an essay that imo serves as a good introduction to Fukuzawa's philosophy. His views and arguments are built primarily on morality with logic acting mostly as a way to expound on his points. It's interesting, nothing really new for a contemporary reader, but at least it gives a nice background on the changing environment during the early years of Meiji-era Japan. Of course there are personal biases here (specifically the one with China - one of the greatest criticisms against Fukuzawa, even though he was supposedly progressive for his time) but imo that reflects some views of many Japanese at the time - not that they're right, of course.

But what about our special non-gifted boi?

I guess let's look at what one of the episodes was based on instead lol

Edogawa Ranpo Episode: The Murder on D. Street (S01E05) Original Work: The Case on D. Hill

I will tell you now: they have almost NO similarities whatsoever. Doesn't mean it's bad tho...

Okay ngl I was pretty disappointed HAHA. It's the same type of disappointment I had with Poe's Murders on the Rue Morgue (which was ironically referenced in the story) but it at least had some sense to it. I blame myself for not seeing it coming tho, given that this story is very typical of Edogawa-sensei. If you do plan to read it, however, be warned that there are implicit (?) themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers (this warning applies to most of Edogawa-sensei's work not made specifically for children HAHA).

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[yurisorcerer]

What are your top five dragons?

I've thought long and hard about this, and I've come up with a list that I think is pretty good.

Spoilers for, honestly, like, a couple things below the cut. I've tagged the post accordingly.

5. Raijin, my Dragonite from Pokemon Violet

(Obviously this isn't specifically a picture of Raijin, my Switch is sadly batterydead at the moment, but this is about what she looks like in my head. Anyway!)

Somehow or another, Dragonite ended up being the very last Gen I Pokemon I'd never caught or trained in any way. I'd caught all of the others in SOME playthrough of SOME pokemon game over the years, even the ones people generally don't love or tend to forget about. (I will be a Lickitung apologist until the day I die.) I'm not sure why I avoided the Dratini line for so long. Some general subconscious backlash? I can't really say for sure. Anyway, I caught Raijin off the coast of Paldea in Violet and she quickly became essentially the ace of my team. As it turns out, Rain Dance + Thunder with an Electric terra type is a pretty good combination.

4. Black Hole Dragons, from a Dungeons & Dragons homebrew sourcebook

I looked and looked and to my IMMENSE frustration, could not find a copy of the old-school D&D homebrew sourcebook that these things are from, but please trust me and hear me out here.

Black hole dragons as depicted in this book, a truly ridiculous bestiary of appropriate foes for Epic-level adventurers, were bizarre snaking collages of geometry that could grow to be larger than the size of the visible universe and erase people from existence by breathing on them. After encountering these when reading these sourcebooks at the impressionable age of uh....like, 23, vanilla D&D's usual array of chromatics and metallics don't do a ton for me anymore.

3. Nicol Bolas, from Magic: The Gathering

This guy.

This fucking guy. This is how you do an impossibly powerful doomsday villain right.

Nicol Bolas is a dragon who's also a dimension-hopping wizard. As part of what is by my estimation one of Magic's last good sets, he also kills a bunch of faux-Egyptian deities and takes their place as the divine ruler of an entire dimension. This guy fucking rules and every single card that's ever had his name on it is awesome and if you disagree, well, that's good for you, because WoTC killed him right around the time they decided to make Magic boring forever.

2. Falin Touden, from Dungeon Meshi

No, she counts. Get back here.

If I stopped to count all of the ways I thought Falin was an amazing character we'd be here all day, but very briefly I find her arc and her interesting liminal role in Dungeon Meshi's narrative super compelling, and I find her characterization very, very relatable, and not entirely in a way that reflects well on me.

But as a *dragon.*

As a DRAGON

Falin is still one of the best to ever do it. The original Red Dragon is a very cool and pivotal part of Dungeon Meshi, and I love that too, but when Falin is fused with it by Thistle we get what is just honestly one of the most memorably bitchin character designs of all time, a ludicrously hot capital MG Monster Girl, and a huge driving force for the rest of the story. Not to mention Ryoko Kui clearly put a ton of thought into how she would work, since a key flaw in her design (so to speak) is what eventually leads to her being saved. I love her to pieces, and the form Falin finally gets at the very end of the story is honestly super cool-looking too! Although it's less dragonny than this one.

The Dragon, from "Dragon"

headspace-hotel's "Dragon" is one of my favorite poems of all time. It's easily the best tumblr post, and while I don't read a ton anymore, it's definitely one of my favorite overall pieces of literature.

I realize that being so brief in the top entry makes this a little anticlimactic, but I can't bring myself to rob the poem of its impact. I linked it there, so please go read it. More than anything else on this list, it's made me think. Beyond simply thinking it's an absolutely great piece of work (which it is), it's very meaningful to me. A reminder that the danger is still present in our time.

Some honorable mentions: the rest of the Dungeon Meshi dragons, every dragon from the Souls series and from Elden Ring, Paarthurnax from Skyrim, the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, Godzilla, Beast Machines Megatron, and Odious, the Green Dragon who turns into a giant d20 that I bought from Hasbro Pulse a year or so ago.

[strangefellows]

Okay this is gonna be a long post but I figured why the hell not throw my absolute fucking lunatic conspiracy board Limbus Company theory out there, because I’ve had four people tell me it makes sense when I’ve brought it up to them, so! Here we go. Theory: I believe that Dante is Ayin (a main character of the first ProjMoon game, Lobotomy Corp, for those who don’t know). There’s a metric asston of evidence in just the first few chapters alone that keeps making me lie on the floor and scream, so let me document it! 

We’re going under a cut for length, let’s get started! Heavy spoilers for Lobotomy Corporation and Ruina under here, be warned.

The Song: First of all, just looking at the lyrics to In Hell We Live, Lament has me absolutely losing my fucking mind. We’re looking at insane lines like “I walked down a path / Leading to the past / Stole from the tree's hands / A regretter's friend / The forbidden fruit” and “If you wanted me to speak / If you wanted me to think / If you wanted me to carry on our dreams / Each loop we live through / The standards inside me / Thе line I drew for me / Lowers to the earth” and “Why'd you make my voice stutter? / Why do truths never matter? / Why'd you curse me with "you're a natural born genius"?” and “Replayed thoughts / Forget me not / I'm inside the empathic light / I bite off your skin / Exposing the angels on your ribs” and just...the repeated mention of loops. The song basically reads literally like Ayin himself singing it to Carmen. (The ending song also feels suspicious lyrically as well, but I can’t pin that down as easily.)

The Prologue: Not as much here, but I find it extremely suspicious that they didn’t show us a damn thing of Dante until after he loses his head and his memories. And honestly, Faust and Vergilius going ‘your name is Dante’ feels very blatantly like a goddamn lie. An amnesiac is gonna accept whatever you tell him is his name, man. Not to mention that he’s explicitly someone very important (Vergilius says so in ch3), and clearly knows something the bad guys desperately want. Which ties to my next point.

The Bad Guys: First of all, they want the Golden Boughs, which as apparently ‘pieces of L Corp’s Singularity’, are a very nice way to say they’re probably literally pieces of Carmen somehow. Branches sure look like the central nervous system, huh. Second, one of the trio in the intro refers to their boss as a ‘her’, says she wants to do something that’s ‘not illegal, but has never been done before’, and IIRC, calls her the Serpent. Now, looking at that serpent reference alongside Carmen’s existing parallels to WhiteNight, as well as Adam and his constant talk of the forbidden fruit...you see what I’m getting at here? Who tempted Adam in the first place?

The Inferno: Now, you see, even if the big bad is somehow Carmen in some way -- similarly to how the Voice led Argalia in Ruina, perhaps? -- that doesn’t necessarily mean Ayin is Dante. HOWEVER! Look back at the Inferno itself, the poem we’re working off extremely heavily. What is the purpose for Dante’s trip to hell? Beatrice. Dante’s dead girlfriend who’s become a divine being. Literally, Beatrice sent Virgil to guide Dante through hell and limbo and shit to bring him to her, roughly speaking. So, uh, looks at the whole dead now divine gf thing. Hm. Yeah. And where is our own trip to hell taking us? Through the ruins of Lobcorp, grabbing what are more or less pieces of Carmen, and I can’t remember if it’s said outright or not but there is a heavy ass chance this trip is ending at the main facility. Which, coming full circle...

The Clock: I will politely resist making a Hokma joke. But you have to admit it’s funny. In all seriousness, though, the fact that Dante’s power is resetting -- something that the entire gameplay of Lobotomy Corp and a major aspect of the plot was built around, resetting and looping and bringing the dead back to life -- is a major sus factor. In fact, I’m just waiting for someone to say ‘death is meaningless’ if I’m not just blanking on dialogue and someone’s said it already. Not to mention, the aspect of Dante feeling the pain of the injuries/deaths he’s rewinding gives me a lot to say about the (fairly canon) interpretation of Ayin martyring himself using the loops to punish himself for what he did. Suffering how the people he’s tied to suffered, so to speak. In fact -- I wouldn’t be surprised if the clock is/was Ayin’s EGO like the Library is Angela’s. How else would it be immediately to hand to slap on his neck, and what else could possibly have been able to legitimately replace his goddamn head on such short notice?

Manager: LOOK, THIS ONE IS TENUOUS BUT WHEN ADDED TO THE PILE-- the simple fact that Dante is deliberately given the title of manager feels important, when looked at through the lens of the rest of the evidence. There’s a line at the beginning of Chapter 1 when the children Sinners start fighting where Dante goes “Should I step in? Is this the part where I exercise my authority as the manager with dignity and grace? A faint memory urges me to do something." and it feels significant.

Random additional note: The Mirror Dungeons Wellcheers event has Dante say it ‘feels familiar’ -- does it? Does it now, Dante? 

While I’m still going through the game myself - middle of ch2 - I’ve had the whole story told to me, so I know what’s up, and though there’s probably more small bits I’m missing, the major beats here are definitely enough to support my theory for sure. It feels very right and fitting.

I’m just sitting here with several tinfoil hats and my ConspiracyBoard.gif going GUYS I SWEAR, THIS MAKES SENSE and losing it silently. I hope I’m right. I mean if I’m not right I’m making an AU fic anyway, but I hope I’m right. What do y’all think?

[ragesingoddess]

I made this post a while back about the dead poets society play in my city and a lot of you seemed to lose your minds so I thought I'd give you an update since i went to see it for a second time last night.

(Prev post):

So some things from the play that I thought you would probably like to know in no particular order:

Todd's actor was taller than Neil's!

(Charlie's actor was shorter than all of them and it was great)

The boys were all very very physically affectionate with each other in the most boyish perfect way you could imagine. There were many head pats, back pats, inside jokes, half hugs, full hugs, we generally got it all.

Neil 'heart eyes' Perry

Like you don't understand how in love he looked for half the play but especially in the poem scene, unlike the movie in the play you get the chance to see his face during the entire poem and I promise you he looked mad in love for all of it. plus Neil's actor had such a perfect heartwarming smile that made the entire thing 100 times better

After Neil gets the part he immediately goes to hug Todd, picking up and spinning him around leaving Todd half startled. He then goes to hug Charlie as well. generally the entire scene was pure gold.

We got the deleted scene where Todd and Neil are going through Neil's lines! Neil tries to get Todd to deliever his lines more theatricly ("threaten me!!") and they end up having a pillow fight. (Neil's dad interrupts them because he just found out about the play)

Plus (maybe my personal favourite) Todd hugs Neil after the birthday desk set scene!!! Neil is surprised at first but hugs Todd back immediately and they stay like thay for a long moment. When they finally part Neil makes another stupid joke just to make Todd laugh.

Charlie and meeks relationship was so great as well, their friendship really shined through the play and I imagine it's simply because the actors happened to have great chemistry but it was great to see.

At the meeting where Charlie brings the girl to the cave he brings a bottle of alcohol that the poets end up passing around. Neil manages to drink a gulp but he immediately spits it out in disgust but he passes the bottle to Todd who drinks so confidently the rest of the poets stare at him with horror.

(Plus, the girl Charlie brings starts pestering the poets, asking them about their names and what not, and at some poits she half jokingly flirts with Todd who just panicks and goes to hide behind Neil.)

Mr keating!! Everything about him was so so good. His ruffled Charlie's hair after the phone call from god incident and called him half jokingly his 'protégé'.

When knox reads the poem he wants to recite to Chris to the poets they are all supper encouraging and they cheer him on. Charlie spesificly says "knoxious this was so great almost as if Todd himself wrote it!" which I just thought was great.

The scene where his father confronts Neil after the play was a hundred times more heartbreaking on stage. To get the atmosphere heavy they make his father's actor shout at him in a very visceral way thay had the entire audience flinching. The quiet "I was good, I was really good' after such a heavy performance ripped my heart into pieces.

As I mentioned in my previous post, while Neil is on the front of the stage thinking about killing himself the poets are having a meeting in the background. Charlie asks who wants to read first and Todd volunteers. Neil is on the stage so he gets a chance to witness this. At some point specifically Todd starts reciting the opening verse with which they open each meeting, and while he is speaking ("and not when I had come to die discover that I had not lived-") Neil is looking at him and smiling with tears streaming down his face, nodding along. (I actually managed to get a shitty picture of this moment and I will be attaching it down below.)

(Oh also I forgot to mention but the poem Todd recited in thay final scene is the poem we half get to see him write in the "I'm chasing walt whitman' scene and I have many thoughts about that as well.)

the audience is seeing Neil on the front and the poets are huddled together in the background, arms around each other, chanting "life, life, life, life-" their voices getting progressively louder until suddenly they stop; Neil recites the final lines of the epilogue of midsummer's night dream "Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all." (which is important because unlike the movie Neil doesn't get to finish his lines in the play. his father interrupts in the middle of his final speech and drags him off stage) and then he fired the gun. The lights go down and the audience is enveloped in complete silence.

We got a scene of Charlie having a breakdown after Neil's death; the poets were going through his stuff trying to supposedly sort it out and Charlie breaks down, kicking the box to thw floor. They rest of the poets were immediate to comfort him and there were some of the most heartbreaking hugs I've seen in my entire life.

When Charlie wakes up to tell Todd about Neil's death, Todd says "no, no, Neil wouldn't leave us alone" and then he screams for the rest of the poets to leave him and he sobbs into his bed, murmuring "no, not Neil, please, not Neil-"

And here is the photo as I promised, it's very bad quality but it's the best I could do:

[down-the-rabbid-hole]

Okay SO, since y'all seemed to like my idea post I'm gonna ramble about the Borrower Woodrow au! This isn't really a fic nor headcanons it's just me writing down a bunch of ideas for this au

LONG RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT!!!

Okay so for those who don't know what borrowers are, the short answer is fairies without wings. They're little creatures that often resemble rodents that live in people's walls or out in forests, and often "borrow" human items (or in this case Rabbid items) such as food and trinkets like buttons, felt, anything really.

They fit PERFECTLY with the aesthetic of pallet prime!! Given they're often shown sometimes living in trees, or using stuff like acorn caps as hats or tree leaves as clothing, there's so many connections to be made!

Anyways back to what you all are probably here for, Woodrow but s m o l

He'd still have his curse! And wouldn't be too different personality wise? He's still a monochromatic poet. But he'd (at least as a kid) be hiding in the town of pallet prime, scavenging and "borrowing" supplies while trying to stay hidden and avoid being stepped on or caught.

I can see him residing in a library of sorts, and after closing time he'd try his best to read the poetry books there, even making a few poems of his own! Though despite his curse...it probably wouldn't go well. Every time Woodrow's curse would cause something bad to happen, the townspeople would blame it on this "spirit of bad luck", which would become basically this urban legend amongst them.

Eventually, Woodrow would've encountered a young Sweetlopek, who immediately thinks Woodrow's a fairy of some kind would try and befriend him, at first Woodrow would try and avoid him out of fear (Sweets is like 20 times his size, can you blame him??), but after getting over his fear of being squashed he'd accept the friend offer!

(also, I can't stop imagining a tiny Woodrow riding around in Sweetlopeks overalls pocket, it's too cute and image)

Part of me wants to say they just stay as friends since then, but the other part has another idea...

Woodrow starts reading Sweets some of the poems he's made, which is of course causing all SORTS of trouble for the townsfolk, one of which managing to trace the chaos to Woodrow (bonus points if it's that one burly Rabbid that punched Woodrow in canon)

That Rabbid connects the dots to the bad luck spirit and Woodrow, causing the townspeople to go into a frenzy trying to catch him, and he unfortunately gets separated from Sweetlopek during this, who's trying to convince the townspeople Woodrow did nothing wrong and didn't wanna hurt anyone.

Meanwhile in the chaos, Woodrow ends up getting fucking TRAMPLED by the mob of angry Rabbids, but somehow escapes into the forest to safety. Where he'll stay for a while to lay low and avoid other Rabbids.

Aaand I'm just gonna stop the post here before WOW it's getting long, I know that was a lot of angst BUT DW THERE'S FLUFF STUFF COMING SOON I PROMISE. Just gotta get the angst out of the way first. Also gonna be renaming this to the Borrower!Woodrow au instead of Borrower!Phandrow au since it's not ENTIRELY Phandrow centered, though there is phandrow in it eventually!

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I made a post a year ago, I think, about how I enjoy that this site has a few blogs that are entirely dedicated to being obsessed with Tim Key, so everyone once in a while I’ll open Tumblr and be flooded with images of Tim Key, because the Tim Key blogs have decided to be active today, and I guess it’s Tim Key Monday.

Well, this time, for once, it’s been Tim Key Week in my comedy calendar, and it’s been a good time. Here are some things this week has covered:

- It started because Tim Key recently went on RHLSTP, and someone recommended it to me, so I listened to that latest episode. This was the first episode I’d ever heard of that podcast (aside from that YouTube video of the car crash with Stewart Lee) because I’m not a massive fan of Richard Herring, but I really enjoyed that one. So then I listened to the other three appearances that Tim Key has made on there, all within the last few years, because Tim Key has been very busy with writing books lately (just putting out his third book since the start of COVID) and keeps going on there to promote them. But then he ends up not promoting them, and just spending the whole time talking shit about Richard Herring.

God, he’s ridiculously quick. He just goes right into character and stays there the entire time, he can take anything Richard Herring says and spin it around in a split second and hit him back with it. Really sharp and can make absolutely anything funny. Literally anything. I re-watched that DVD extra interview he did with Simon Amstell last night, and that really highlighted how much he can make the most mundane thing in the world hilarious.

It's amazing style, I think. Be just a few steps outside of what is normal and reasonable to say, but say it with full confidence, and then ask other people what’s wrong with them when they don’t keep up. I’d previously seen him do it for five sets of No More Jockeys, and delighted in hearing he’s like that all the time.

- I enjoyed that, so got sent some more Tim Key things. His Radio 4 documentaries, of which I had heard one before, because it featured Kitson, and earlier this year I did my huge trek through every weird tiny thing where Daniel Kitson might have had even the most obscure role (I watched a terrible movie called Dog Eat Dog, the rabbit hole went deep, and the rabbit hole contained a Tim Key documentary about a Russian novelist). But I hadn’t heard some others, so I spent an evening listening to Tim Key talk about Russian poets and writers and how to start a novel, and that was lovely. I enjoyed that.

- But the main things I got were a couple of recordings of his old stand-up shows, and this album he recorded in 2010, called On a Boat With a String Quartet, where he reads poetry and talks shit to Tom Basden. I really, really enjoyed listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. I realized I have heard that before, as they were together on season 2 of Mark Watson Makes the World Substantially Better, and on Mark Watson’s Live Address to the Nation, and they did basically the same thing there. This album made me remember how much I enjoyed those radio shows, partly because of how much I enjoy listening to Tim Key read poetry and talk shit to Tom Basden. “Wow,” I thought. “I wish there were only some way of hearing more of Tim Key reading poetry while talking shit to Tom Basden.” Then I remembered he has a five-season radio show that I’ve somehow never heard before.

- So next on the list was the Late Night Poetry Programme, which I’d been vaguely meaning to listen to “at some point” for ages, and this was clearly that time. God, it was good. I’d heard Tim’s poems before in various contexts, but really enjoyed hearing so many of them at once. And the soundscape was nice. And of course it was fun when he talked shit to Tom Basden.

I think the first few seasons were pretty well perfect, just those two in a studio with little hints of their life outside it, dropped through a line or a word or two, throwaway jokes where the meaning hits you a little at a time as you realize what it implies about the life they live. It was cool at first, when they started opening it up and we actually saw that bigger world that they’d been teasing for a while. By season 5, I have to admit, I felt like it had gone too far. Which they acknowledged several times, Tom Basden making comments that they’d gotten too far away from season 1 and Tim Key doesn’t even read his poems anymore. But I did kind of think the character was right. The sitcom was still fun, I enjoyed every episode. But I think my favourties were when it was just two people in a studio reading poetry.

Katy Wix was good, though. And I did enjoy the guest stars throughout all five seasons. That turned into a game that I was able to play due to my abysmal lack of talent for identifying people based on the sound of their voice alone. Because I’m so bad at it, I avoided looking at the notes beforehand, and tried to guess who that episode’s guest voice actor was, and would then hear in the credits whether I was right. I was quite bad at it. I went through an entire episode with Sally Phillips, and two entire episodes with Mike Wozniak, convinced that they were played by people I’d never heard before, even though I know both those voices quite well.

I only guessed a few. By the end of Isy Suttie’s episode, I was about 80% sure it was Suttie, and then I turned out to be right. I got Bridget Christie’s voice right away, though that’s partly because I knew from a No More Jockey’s episode that she’d show up at some point, and she hadn’t been on it yet and this was the last episode, so it had to be her. The only voice where I was immediately, 100% sure who it was was when they had Liam Williams on. Absolutely no question there. That is an extremely distinctive voice, it was almost distracting because every time he spoke I just thought “Oh it’s Liam Williams” rather than believing it was a farmer or whatever.

- After that, I wanted even more Key & Basden, and I remembered how Stuart Goldsmith says that his best evidence for why TV isn’t a meritocracy is that Cowards never got more than three TV episodes. So I downloaded those TV episodes. But of course I have to do things in order, so first I downloaded the radio episodes. Did the radio show and then the TV show.

I really liked those, and I’m often not big on sketch comedy. These were fucking great, though. The TV show had quite a few sketches that I could see myself re-watching on YouTube one at a time. And that’s nice, because for years I’ve done that regularly with Mitchell and Webb, but these days I watch those and have trouble enjoying them as much because, you know, transphobia. I guess I should stop being shocked when it turns out that Footlights men from the early 00s may not be the most clued-up people in the world about trans issues (Webb, Ayoade). But if Tim Key or Tom Basden or those other two guys (sorry, I do vaguely know they both have quite good careers in their own right, but in my mind they are those other two guys) in Cowards have any views on trans people whatsoever, I’d like them to keep that to themselves so I can have some new sketches to re-watch on YouTube without feeling guilty. No more Footlights guys from the early 00s should be allowed to talk about trans people (except John Oliver, actually Mark Watson’s made some pro-trans rights statements too, they can stay).

Anyway, the point is that I really enjoyed the sketches. They all seemed so cohesive – the characters, and the plots, and the actors. A lot of sketches didn’t end on huge punchlines, which I always think is the sign of a good sketch, if it’s funny enough to get laughs throughout and not just for a twist at the end. Really good stuff. I see Stuart Goldsmith’s point.

- Then I still hadn’t had enough Key & Basden on Radio 4, so I downloaded the sitcom Party. That was pretty good. The jokes were consistent and funny, which is the main point. I have to admit the premise didn’t work quite as well today as it might have then, which is not Tom Basden’s fault, as you can’t have expected him to foresee the fall of Western civilization back in 2010. In 2010, I remember that the idea of naïve youths involved in politics was funny. Straw feminists and all that. Whereas these days, the situation is so dire that if I see a young person who’s politically engaged, I don’t want to make fun of them for being underinformed anymore. I just want to say “Thank you for doing anything besides making Tik-Tok videos and listening to Joe Rogan while Rome burns.”

Having said that, the point of this show was not exactly to be hard-hitting satire of student politics, it was to be a vehicle for jokes. And it did that very well. It was funny. The characters were good, too. Five different main characters it a lot for a sitcom that started with only four half-hour episodes, but by the end of the very first episode, I had a clear idea of who was who. I could tell their voices apart, which helps (Tim Key’s voice I know, Tom Basden’s voice sounds a bit too similar to Johnny Sweet’s but I could tell them apart if I tried hard enough, I can tell Katy Wix’s Welsh accent apart from Anna Crilly). And each character was sufficiently distinctive for me to see why they were there.

- Just today, I watched The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island, written by and starring Key & Basden. I enjoyed it. Short films, or films in general, aren’t hugely my thing. But I liked the pretty shots of English countryside. I liked the dismal shots of the ocean in bad weather and little rowboats and the old house. And it was a nice story starring a folk singer and an eccentric person, and what more could I want out of some characters?

I know Tim Key has done a bunch of short films before, some with Tom Basden. The only other one I’ve seen is Very Few Fish, which I watched entirely because of that bit at the end of a No More Jockeys episode, where Tim lists all the Taskmaster contestants he has or hasn’t touched, and says he’s kissed Aisling Bea, on screen. I found out that he’d kissed her in this weird short film written by Tom Basden, so I watched that out of curiosity.

And found… it was quite a good film, probably deserved to get more commissioned. But I didn’t like the bit where he made out with Aisling Bea. I’d just watched all this No More Jockeys, where he’s in his house and playing himself so I felt like I knew him. And I don’t want to see people I know graphically make out with other people. It’s like when your friend is doing PDA at a party. It’s even weirder than when a stranger does it, because you just think, I don’t want to see you that way. I know you, I like you, that side of you is meant to be kept behind closed doors please. That’s what Very Few Fish felt like. Like following a friend on a date and watching him make out with someone. It was weird.

That’s an interesting level of parasocial relationship, isn’t it? Watching No More Jockeys has parasoically made me feel like that guy is my friend, but the effect is not for me to try to hang out with him on social media or anything creepy like that, the only effect is I don’t want to watch him kiss anyone. That’s probably okay, as far as these things go.

- Last night, I tried the first episode of We Need Answers. I’d have absolutely loved to see the stage version of this, I have collected pictures and short videos of it from various corners of the internet (including those fucking unhinged promo videos on Alex Horne’s YouTube channel that introduce the contestants), they had all the best comedians and it seems like a great showcase of my peak area of interest, which is 00s Edinburgh comedy.

However, I’ve always avoided the TV show because the list of guests is awful. Almost no comedians, heavy on presenters and reality show people. It didn’t help that the first episode featured noted transphobe Germaine Greer (also, as I always feel the need to add when her name comes up, she wasn’t some perfect feminist who was ruined by going TERF, I always disliked some of the comments she’d made about cis women who didn’t fit the type of womanhood that she liked, and I hate the she’s held us as an example of great feminism). So I’m open to giving it another shot. Does anyone have opinions on whether it gets better in the future? The first episode was all right, but I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

So that is my Tim Key binge. Does anyone have recommendations for things I’ve missed? Especially short films, I know there are other good ones. Happy Tim Key Thursday, everyone!