#and i most of time write poems or lyrics or thoughts and mix it all

[poetrysmackdown]

hi hiii i wanted to say that your account is so refreshing to see, esp with the passion you have for the arts. as someone who's been meaning to read (and write) more poetry, do you have any recommendations? some classics that everyone and their mothers know? perhaps some underrated pieces that changed you? or even just authors you like, I'm very open to suggestions :]]

Hi! Thank you so much for this kind ask :) So exciting that you’re looking to delve deeper into reading and writing! I had to take a little time to answer this because my thoughts were all over the place lol.

For a review of notable/classic poems/poets, I honestly just recommend looking at lists online or, hell, just binging Wikipedia pages for different countries’ poetry if that’s something you’re into, just to get a sense of the chronology. I read one of those little Oxford Very Short Introductions on American Poetry and thought it was pretty good, but online is quicker if you’re just searching for poets or movements to hone in on. Poetry Foundation also has lots of resources, in addition to all the poems in their database. I guess my one big classic recommendation would have to be Emily Dickinson (<3), but really the best move is just to find a poet you already enjoy and then look around to see who their peers were/are, who they were inspired by, who they’ve maybe translated here and there, etc. and follow it down the line as far as you can.

For some personal recs, here are some collections I’ve really enjoyed over the past two years or so. Bolded favorites, and linking where select poems from the book have been published online. But also, if you want a preview of a couple poems from another of the books to see if they interest you, DM me and I can send them over! You can also feel free to pilfer through my poetry tag for more stuff lol

Autobiography of Death by Kim Hyesoon trans. Don Mee Choi

Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings by Joy Harjo

DMZ Colony by Don Mee Choi

Hardly War by Don Mee Choi

Whereas by Layli Long Soldier

Geography III by Elizabeth Bishop

Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine

Mouth: Eats Color—Sagawa Chika Translations, Anti-Translations, & Originals by Sawako Nakayasu

The Selected Poems of Osip Mandelstam trans. W.S. Merwin and Clarence Brown

The Branch Will Not Break by James Wright

This Journey by James Wright

God’s Silence by Franz Wright

Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke (the translation I read was by Alfred Corn—I thought it was great, but idk if there are better ones out there!)

DMZ Colony, Hardly War, Dictee, Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, and partially Whereas are all book-length poems with some prose poetry and varying levels of weirdness/denseness/multilingualism—if you were to pick one to start with, I’d say do Don’t Let Me Be Lonely or Whereas. Mouth: Eats Color is some experimental translations of Japanese modernist poet Chika Sagawa, with other translations and some of Nakayasu’s original stuff mixed in—it's definitely a bit disorienting but ultimately I remember having such fun with it, as much fun as Nakayasu probably had making it. It’s a book that emphasizes co-creation and a spirit of play, and completely changed my attitude towards translation.

If you’re less interested in that kind of formal fuckery stuff though (I get it), can’t go wrong with the other books! Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings is the one I read most recently, and it’s great—Harjo also featured in Round 1! Franz Wright also featured, and God's Silence is the collection which "Night Walk" comes from. James Wright (father of Franz) is one of my favorite poets of all time, though his poetry isn’t perfect. Even so, I’m honestly surprised he’s not doing numbers on Tumblr—Mary Oliver was a big fan of his, even wrote her "Three Poems for James Wright" after his death.

I mentioned in another post that one of my favorite poets is Paul Celan, so I’ll also recommend him here. I read Memory Rose into Threshold Speech which is a translated collection of his earlier poems, but it’s quite long if you’re just getting to know him as a poet—fortunately, both Poetry Foundation and Poets.org have a ton of his poems in their collections. There’s also an article by Ilya Kaminsky about him titled “Of Strangeness That Wakes Us” (!!!!!) that’s a great place to start, and is honestly kind of my whole mission statement when I’m reading and writing poetry. Looking at the books I’ve recommended above, a lot of them share feelings of separateness or alienation—from others, from oneself, from one’s country, from language—that breed strange, private modes of expression. That tends to be what I’m drawn to personally, and that’s some of what Kaminsky talks about.

Sorry of the length of this—I hope it's useful as a jumping-off point! And if you or anyone ends up exploring any of these poets, let me know what you think! If folks wanna reply with recommendations themselves too that'd be great :)

#ask #not a poll #i originally was going to link to previews of the books directly on this post but for some reason I suddenly feel very paranoid about #copyright LMAO. ik this blog is already like copyright infringement central but I feel like I can at least make an argument for the polls #being fair use lol. in the way that i could not for the pdf previews I made. (i also have a full pdf of hardly war if anyone wants lol) #and i know it's not entirely rational bc this is tumblr and nobody looks on tumblr. but i'm not used to having this many followers lol so i #admittedly just getting anxious about silly things #but please please feel free to DM me! or send an ask off anon #discussion

[mywifeleftme]

363: R.E.M. // Murmur

Murmur R.E.M. 1983, IRS

Some Short, Disconnected Statements on the Matter of Murmur

1. Insert the following into Waring blender

The Velvet Underground, Pylon, the Byrds, Gang of Four, Patti Smith, the Feelies, Joy Division, the Method Actors, Big Star, the dB’s, the Monkees. Press “Blend” button. (I’ve never owned a blender; I don’t know what the buttons say.)

2. Easy formula for a great band

Having one temperamental genius songwriter guy sounds kind of hard to maintain. Have you considered simply getting four people who are really excellent and distinctive at the respective things they do (at least three of them great singers), who all write well, get along, lack substance abuse issues, have good taste, and modest egos? Why don’t more bands do this?

3. Notes on the early discourse

A lot of the things people wrote back in the early ‘80s to champion this band were dumb as hell. R.E.M. weren’t good because they didn’t use keyboards or synths; pop music didn’t need to be returned to its "honest" folk-rock roots; giving them a thumbs up for not wearing flashy clothes and makeup is dork behaviour.

They were good because they made weird music that derived organically from their time (early ‘80s), place (a college town in the South), and selves (bright, independent, adventurous, sincere, ¼ gay).

Anyone who listened to Chronic Town or Murmur, with their post-punky murk and lyrical references to Laocoön and Marat, and thought to themselves, “As yes, the second coming of Roger McGuinn, this will put those effete new wavers to flight,” was an idiot.

4. Veteran of the psychic war

Somewhere around age 22, R.E.M. took over the mantle Metallica had held as My Favourite Band in the World Forever and Ever, and I proceeded to be almost as annoying about them as I had been Hetfield and the boys. I posted a lot about them; rigged “best music” polls on random message boards I didn’t even post on in their favour; cornered people at parties; crowbarred them into playlists; grumpily chose to dislike bands I saw as stealing their shine; etc. etc. Some (some) of this is maybe cute in retrospect, but really: don’t be like this about music. If you love a band this much, learn how to play their songs on an instrument; write a few poems; paint something. Worst case: review them.

5. Learning nothing, 2024

6. Athens: Lyrics & Enunciation

The matter of what exactly Stipe was singing on the early R.E.M. records was a subject of intense speculation, and eventually, parody. Some of the mystery’s in the mixing, some’s in his Georgian accent, and some’s in his enunciation (never quite as mushy as people claimed, but not exactly Ella Fitzgerald either). But most of it’s in the arbitrary decisions he makes with regard to syntax that cause even accurate transcriptions to seem implausible. Stipe is probably a little bit autistic, which goes some way to explaining the impressionistic intuitiveness of his words, and also went to art school, which fetishizes that sort of thing, but he was always shy of people seeing the words to something like “Sitting Still” on the page because he thought he might be exposed as a nincompoop. “Up to par and Katie bars / The kitchen side, but not me in / Sitting top of the big hill / Waste of time sitting still,” goes the chorus, according to at least one gnostic sect, but the important passage is the one everyone agrees on, when the stream of impassioned babble releases into a howled “I can hear you / Can you hear me?”

Later on, when he would sing more clearly over airy arrangements, with the lyrics neatly printed in the booklet, he’d occasionally try one of those old sound-over-sense moves and embarrass himself (“Leaving New York was never my proud” still rankles). But Murmur’s eternal elusiveness is in the way fragments of sense catch your ear from out of its sleeptalk glossolalia:

“The pilgrimage has gained momentum” “Conversation fear” “Lighted, lighted / Laughing in tune” “Hear the howl of the rope / A question” “A perfect circle of acquaintances and friends / Drink another, coin a phrase” “Shaking through / Opportune” “Take oasis” “Heaven assumes / Shoulders high in the room” “Did we miss anything?”

7. Permission to be arbitrary

I remember sitting in the basement of my college house with my old hometown buddy Brad (mostly a metal/classic rock guy), playing him “Shaking Through” and explaining one of the things I love about old R.E.M. is that it’s great music to yell to. I don’t know how much he really got it, but we were drunk and it’s a catchy song, so we howled and made keening, wordless, Stipean noises along with it and the next few until one of my roommates came and asked us to keep it down.

Also: one theory for why cats purr when they’re injured is that the vibrations somehow reduce pain and encourage healing. From many experiences humming these songs while wrapped up in headphones and bedsheets in the middle of a day that’s passing like a kidney stone, I can confirm.

8. Note on the modern discourse: Influence?

Black Francis, Kurt Cobain, Bob Mould, Steve Malkmus, Bob Pollard, and Thom Yorke loved R.E.M. So did, to his own apparent consternation, Metallica’s Cliff Burton. Still, you sit down with someone and listen to those musicians with the goal of showing them the R.E.M. influence (don’t do this, why would you do this?) and it’s honestly pretty oblique. Most of the bands who directly aped aspects of R.E.M.'s early sound were at best pleasantly minor (see Captured Tracks’ Strum & Thrum comp), and the ones who seemed to be listening most closely to their ‘90s efforts were not who you want.

Their ultimate influence was probably simply showing what an art-first, indie-adjacent rock band could accomplish by sticking to their guns and bending the system to their desires instead of being bent by it. They were like a Velvet Underground for the college rock era, except everyone talented who heard them was inspired to start a band that didn’t sound much like them. They always used their spotlight to introduce people to other bands and, when they really got huge, they modeled how to deal with success. There don’t seem to be many R.E.M. stories, Peter Buck’s airplane incident aside, about them being anything other than kind. That’s a fundamentally less exciting type of influence than most other “great” bands have. But I do think it’s kinda cool they were the wise old heads for an entire national movement of alternative music.

8b.

Of course, it still bugs me people don’t think they’re cool. Murmur at least, should be considered cool. And Reckoning, mostly. Chronic Town for sure. Some of Fables. Am I crazy for saying some of Monster and New Adventures even? I’ll stop. I’ll go on.

9(-9). The music

They were a pop band, they were an art band; they sounded like children, and like craggy old men buried in kudzu weed; natural and pretentious; date-stamped and timeless. Decide yourself. Happy 41st birthday Murmur.

363/365

#r.e.m. #rem #michael stipe #peter buck #bill berry #mike mills #murmur #mitch easter #jangle pop #athens music #athens #'80s music #college rock #alternative rock #indie rock #perfect circle #self indulgence #music review #vinyl record

[melop-sia]

HELLO @elphabaoftheopera ! i hope youre doing well! ive arrived with more lfay thoughts and some analysis!!!!!!!! 🥳

READING THOUGHTS:

im so, so glad i rereading lfay, it is honestly such an awesome fic and the writing so amazing! personally, since this was kind of my first time reading through the entire thing without multiple day breaks, i was definitely able to pick up on less obvious details (which are compiled below!) that made everything so much better!!! i genuinely felt like i was experiencing the story again for the first time, which made me able to appreciate and become engaged with the more emotional scenes and chapters! some of my favourites of these include chapter 23 (i was evidently moved enough to leave a comment mid read 😅😅), chapter 28 and chapter 34.

for sister sunrise, the description of elphaba reflecting over her room for the last time really got me :') the paragraph was written super beautifully and after going through most of the story i reallyy felt the nostalgic and sentimental aspect.!!!! dorothy and the dark was already a pretty emotional last chapter, but in particular fiyeraba saying goodbye to glinda and elphaba reflecting on her relationship with fiyero to get through the dark were some i really appreciated and loved!

aside from that, i loved being able to notice how elphaba went from following the rules to playing by her own since it was written with a pretty clear distinction! despite it, you managed to still write her so in character and i applaud you for it! 😁

i was wondering, was it difficult for you to write each character through all of these emotions and emotional scenes? im super in awe of how well characterised they are, i can't lie my mind started mixing some of the musical and this fic together because of it how accurate it all is!!! 👏

EDIT: i was also wondering, which parallel in lfay is your favourite / was the most fun to write in?

PARALLELS:

i pride myself soo much in picking up on these! i planned to have screenshots of all of them, but unfortunatly because of the image limit ill just have to describe some 😔 nevertheless, i hope you like reading through this segment and id like to thank @mystic-oni for his much appreciated help in finding some of these!

i loved how this parallel really developed from the beginning of their relationship, with the bickering turning cute banter :) 💕

i HAD to include this one, it is so so sweet and the parallels were all incorporated so well and warmed my heart ❤️❤️

along with these, there was also nessa making the same "you look dreadful" comment to elphaba at shiz and at kiamo ko, each in very different tones that made the second time very heartfelt :')

EXTRAS:

as well as parallels, i noted some a few references related to the book 🥳 i also noticed a few things that sounded similar but i wasn't sure were exactly parallels 🧐 but still wanted to include anyway... so here they are 😁!!! some captioned, some not but i hope you enjoy all!

i was super surprised at myself for initally not finding the lyrics snuck into the poem, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless!! also picked up on the mention of sarima from the book during chapter 14!

ANOTHER EDIT: another reference i got after watching wicked again was elphaba's book "discord and discontent" was mentioned by dr dillamond (can't recall in what way though 🥲)!

i noticed elphie celebrating in a similar way at going to shiz and getting into the sorcery seminar, she makes me so :))) SHE IS SO HOPEFUL AND DESERVES EVERYTHING!!!! i absolutely adore how you wrote her so excited and youthful during the act 1 chapters 🥺💕💕

fiyero having the same reaction to elphaba's temper from two different "lives" 💞 i can't help but love this little detail! i also picked up on how fiyero jokes about seeing the present in chapter 20 in comparison to him being sincere about it in the epilogue! super super subtle but one of my favourites !! there was also when elphaba sarcastically suggested enjoying the ocean in ev to considering in the last chapter, i laughed when i first read it and i still do when i think about it :)))

EXTRAS

nearing the last few chapters, i maaayyyy have impulsively made a LFaY chapter naming quiz 😇 it is linked below, i hope you have fun with it!

FINAL REGARDS

overall, im so glad i took the time to read over this outstanding fic, i don't think i could ever get tired of your writing!! ❤️❤️ i look forward to seeing more of your work, and im very excited to hear that there may be new works coming!!!!! however long that takes, i can't wait to be here yet again in support! :)))

#lfay #love fae and yero #elphabaoftheopera

[midnight1404]

1, 6, 7, 16, 19, 27, 28, 29!

Well, this was my first year dong fanfiction so following my word count (without counting three comms of 5k words that i didnt upload) i write 65, 993 words this year!!! yippy!!

6. To my surprise, that will be "As we fall (You will be part of me)" my poem collection that i have a little abandoned (but i will be back tho heheheh :3)

7. Well tbh, with a few exceptions, i almost never use song lyrics as titles so for now i don't an especial artist that i use the most (but i predict that one will be surely Breaking Benjamin or Ethel Cain surely)

16. Taking out the obvious ones like Dead dove, incest, etc. I'm proud that tag is "Catholic imagery" and "Daddy issues"

19. I can say jakelo? nah, just kidding...I think bessides my otp, im interested in explore more Quaritch's charcter in different angles and obviously i will do it along with Lo'ak (and maybe Taliya bc i just like imagine Q with someone he can't stand.)

27. I can't explain it very well, is a mess without a real order, is just a mix of Crystal Castles, Breaking Benjamin (or rock in general), Mitski, etc.

28. The Offspring and My Sab's gift one-shot (that is coming)

29.I have two coming from my two first works ever, and i cant chose just one so here it is:

The first one comes from the fourth chapter of A Father's child (my first fanfic, pls dont read it, is bad compared to my other works.), and i hold it close to my heart bc summarizes one of the main reasons why im so fixated in Lo'ak and Jake's relathionship, how difficult and fuck up it is, where there is intense amount of love but also a lot of past, guilt, and ghosts:

“I know that I’m a failure to you…” Lo’ak says with a broken voice, a single tear falls from his eye. “But is a lot of begging to look at me? Not as Toruk makto’s soldier or the kid that you were once time ago but as your son, Father….” More tears fall through his face, his voice cracking. “I’m your son, an imperfect one.”

 Jake thinks that statement it’s a cruel joke. Every time that he sees Lo’ak since his birth, the first sentence that come always to Jake’s mind is My child. The single one from his children of blood that came to this world with five fingers and eyebrows, the one who is stubborn and capable of jump to the danger without think twice, just like Jake.

"Neteyam is his pride, Kiri his empathy and Tuk his kindness. Lo’ak is the child that could have been born just from Jake’s rib. Jake Sully’s child in appearance, blood and heart.

Jake is scared for him because of that, the last thing that he desires for his boy is the same road and mistakes.

Ending with stained hands and uncountable sins. That simple thought makes Jake want to eat Lo'ak to make him reborn without the curse of being like Jake Sully."

The second one is from the sixth chapter of Look at me (on the horns of a dilemma), this one is mortly bc i suffered writing this with my impostor sindrome hitting me in my guts while my lack of english was not helping me at all, writing something more ambicious than i did before, and im proud that atleast i made to not gave up in it in the process.

"“After days spent doubtful and afraid, Fabian made the decision to free his little brother from Christian’s claws. So, in the dead of night when the eldest boy returned to the house, Fabian mustered the courage to sneak into his brother’s room and steal the shed’s key. When he managed to grab the keys without making noise, he didn't waste any time and ran to the shed so fast his legs ached. He opened the door with trembling hands, but what he was met with was not something he recognized as his brother.”

Lo’ak doesn’t want to feel like he’s walking in a tightrope anymore. He doesn’t want to feel like every breath he takes is a step closer to falling into a void, never to see the sun again. Lo’ak wants to be capable of at least knowing what he really wants for his future, something that is not swimming.

“A chained wolf-beast was what he saw. A beast with a big mouth that contained deadly, stained fangs. A beast with claws that appeared larger than Fabian’s head. It began to growl, which let out a putrid scent from its mouth. The boy froze in front of the thing that he once called a child, staring into its eyes. Dark, foggy-red orbs replacing the warm amber, erasing any trace of innocence, leaving only the dreadful ferocity. Fabian would have begun to cry if not for the sudden sound of the door closing. His heart stopped when he tried to open it and found out that it was locked. He started to scream, begging to be let out. This seemed to irritate the beast behind him, its growls getting louder with every cry. He heard Christian’s voice through the other side of the door, ‘This is what happens when you don’t listen’.”

Lo’ak is aware that the people around him would not even stand him being their sight if they knew about his forbidden lust and he understands why.

“No matter how Fabian begged or cried or screamed, Christian, the perfect son and brother, left his little brother trapped with a monster that, with the sunrise, would wake up as a kid again. A kid that would wake up with blood coating his skin and a new corpse that wasn’t from a sheep.”

But the Sully's middle child can’t stop thinking about his younger self. If the kid that Lo’ak was could see him in the present, what would his impression be?"

Thanks for the asks!!!

#moots #asks games #my writing

[meikuree]

4, 10, 30, 37, and 45 for the writers' questions!

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

answered!

10. How do you decide what to write?

I used to reliably write one fic per month, and that was decided by whatever idea nugget had captivated my brain most recently.

ever since I’ve broken into the landscape of ao3 exchanges, it’s decided by recent exchanges I might’ve signed up for or exquisite requests that have caught my eye.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

glib answer: fluff is out of my comfort zone. anything calling for an unqualified uncomplicated happy ending… leads to me gnashing the end of an imaginary pencil going “but why is this so hard???” there’s no honour with fluff and no lessons learned, I just bounce at the earliest opportunity back to gestating dark wretched bonbons.

realistic answer: m/m. I used to have a disease called “I can only write fic from women or non-binary people or men of colour’s povs” (I don’t relate to people who think writing women is revulsively political because MEN who are the default in their societies fill that role for me instead and women are my comfort zone) and m/m was a huge leap… but it’ll get easier with practice, is what I tell myself! it has gotten easier.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

I don’t think it’s underrated when you put the fandom into context, but I’m going to discuss the lightness of a foreign sky a second time [drumroll], specifically epigraphs/poetry, because I like the choice of poem I picked and more broadly the poet I looked up:

while looking for epigraphs/poems to crib titles from I rediscovered Alfian sa’at’s poetry. The Merlion, which the fic title is paraphrased from, is a nice wry ode to the diffusion of identity and rootlessness that doesn't side with the subject of that (privileged) rootlessness, exactly, but does do a nod to loss from the unsaid weathering of their sense of self. all of which I thought was somewhat fitting considering the OG book's subject matter, and so decided to put into conversation with it through my fic.

that aside, it's just a poem that manages to be irreverent and thoughtfully witty (the contemporary Chernobyl reference!) while staying lyrical:

"I wish it had paws," you said, "It's quite grotesque the way it is, you know, limbless; can you imagine it writhing in the water, like some post-Chernobyl nightmare? I mean, how does it move? Like a torpedo? Or does it shoulder itself against the currents, gnashing with frustration, its furious mane bleached the colour of a drowned sun? [...] What a riddle, this lesser brother of the Sphinx. What sibling polarity, how its sister's lips are sealed with self-knowledge and how its own jaws clamp open in self-doubt, still surprised after all these years."

the common online consensus among singaporeans (that I've observed, anyway) is that Crazy Rich Asians has gotten mixed receptions given its wild embellishments and setting inaccuracies (wrt the everyday lives of most of the singaporean populace, lol, not counting expat enclaves) -- and i think something like Alfian Sa'at's Void Deck is a great antidote to CRA's fictive luxury:

And old folks sit like sages To deploy chess pieces with ancient strategies. In a corner, a caged bird bursts With the song of its master's pride And wrinkled women breathe, through Tai-chi-tuned windpipes, the operatic melody of the air… All a wanton fantasy. Eyes reveal a meeting-point For loners and loiterers: A sense of things reduced- Conversations that trickle through Brief noddings at lift landings, Teenage rhetoric scrawled, in liquid paper, On the stone-table chessboard, (Where the king used to sit) The grandiose house-selling dreams of residents Compacted in anonymous letterboxes;

so: if I like something about this fic, I hope it's some sort of groundedness in... emotion, setting texture, and all that jazz.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

answered—but I like to think (hope) that I’m better at writing lines that feel like an emotional gut punch or sharp insight, and including them in every other paragraph in fic so that the reader feels either like they’ve been walloped or sanctified (or left thinking "wtf? I'm never going to trust this person again") by the end.

(fic writer asks)

#thank you for the ask! <33 #meikuree answers #long post #black water sister #zen cho

[luuurien]

Cecily Renns - Dysfunctional Bunnygirl

(Power Pop, Pop Punk, Post-Hardcore)

Her first proper album since coming out, Dysfunctional Bunnygirl sees Cecily Renns reflecting the same beams of romance and self-understanding through a new prism, a new view of both herself and the world around her guiding these avant-punk tunes to compelling - if at times messy - success.

☆☆☆½

Though Cecila Renns has been releasing music since the mid-2010s, it’s only now that it has taken on a more bittersweet, elusive feel. Dysfunctional Bunnygirl, her first album since coming out as trans, captures her in a state of change both personal and musical, embracing transness and femininity more than ever with a measured dose of avant-punk experiment to bolster it, reflecting the same beams of romance and self-understanding through a new prism. There’s brighter colors and sweeter instrumentation than her previous work, but the longer track times and nods to bitpop, post-hardcore and noise pop cast a darkness over her stories of belonging and self-acceptance that provides both a unique sound and the perfect environment for her new stories to bloom. Her writing is bolder than ever, sometimes even bordering lyrical clutter and disorganization, but by being so unrelenting in both her form and sound, Renns makes Dysfunctional Bunnygirl one of her most compelling - if at times messy - successes. A bit over 50 minutes in length stretched across 12 tracks, Dysfunctional Bunnygirl manages its time a number of ways, Renns experimenting with both long-form songcraft and shorter bursts of energy to bring her world alive. On the longer end of things are tracks like Love in the Time of Discord! and the title track, Renns stuffing as many ideas into each second as she can as the former jumps from the limitations and joys of modern online relationships (“Text me when I’m up / I can never have enough / …I guess I’m never logging off / Don’t say goodbye”) to dreamy musings on romance (“While I was thinking about your voice / And in the night sky, the skyscrapers shine beautifully”) to surprisingly imaginative and playful takes on the emotional yearning that’s often defined her music (“Change the roles, I want you to make a story for me / You’re the only artist who can write my poem”), and the latter’s slow build à la post-rock incentivizes her to go the gradual route with her writing, slowly amping up the tension with heavier vocals and massive swells of guitar and drums while the monologue halfway through acts as a checkpoint for her to dump out a handful of tangential thoughts before moving onto the album’s final act. The shorter songs, as expected, take advantage of the album’s punk roots for fast and energetic tunes with both musical punch and the intense performances to match it: Priestess (Yr Painting of My Life) makes itself an early highlight with its flashy 8-bit synth melody and multiple vocal takes jumping over one another like they’re all competing to be the loudest and most energetic one of the bunch; THE WORST!!! embrace fuzzy garage guitars and a pace that never seems to let up; You Still Believe in Me! runs at an absolutely breakneck speed with some killer guitar work from Renns’s partner Biddy Fox - if there are any tracks that’ll stick with you right from the first listen, it’s these powerful songs that mix Renns’s early pop bombast with the heavy guitars and rugged production of her emo and punk rock heroes. Barring any lyrical or production fine-tunings, the pop songcraft on Dysfunctional Bunnygirl is incredibly solid, which goes a long way in making it an enjoyable listen, even if its more idiosyncratic moments don’t land on an individual level. On those idiosyncrasies, it’s a little too clear the areas where Dysfunctional Bunnygirl’s long runtime and broad emotional concepts stifled its opportunities to be a tighter and leaner listen. The album tends to struggle most with reigning itself in, occasionally pulling out quick delights like Priestess or THE WORST!!! but longer tracks often find themselves stuck in the same musical ideas - June’s transitions between grungy guitar sections and quieter parts to build back into them aren’t emphasized in the vocals or much in the instrumentation at all, Renns’s singing unusually dusty and dry compared to the vivacious performances she brings elsewhere, and The Death of Me’s pared-down instrumentation in search of a more confessional singer/songwriter sound holds onto too much of the pop punk energy and feels unrewarding by the end as its driving bassline and flashy guitars don’t reveal something greater at the end. There’s an admirable quality to the way she uncompromisingly includes any and every feeling into Dysfunctional Bunnygirl’s sound, but it forces the album into a take-it-or-leave-it scenario where there’s not much sitting underneath the surface of her rough edged punk. Still, with all its peculiarities and quirks, Dysfunctional Bunnygirl is another wonderful showing of Renns as a growing individual and artist, changes in her life infused into the music that provide both musical opportunity and another chance to dig into her artistry like never before. Though the album’s themes are often dark internal dialogues on transfeminity and mental clutter, she’s never sounded so confident in herself and her vision, Dysfunctional Bunnygirl a massive but honest and heartfelt ode to everything that makes Renns such a lovely individual. She knows what she wants her music to be, and every moment serves that purpose regardless of what anyone else may feel about it. Above all, that’s what makes Dysfunctional Bunnygirl such a triumph.

This review is part of the ALL I MISSED: 2022, where I review all the albums I didn't get to from last year.

#cecily renns #dysfunctional bunnygirl #self-released #bitpop #emo #emo pop #indie punk #indie rock #noise pop #pop #pop punk #post-hardcore #power pop #punk #rock #2022 #7/10 #album review #album reviews #new music #music review #all i missed 2022 #2022 albums

[personalfreakshow]

I have mixed feelings about Rupi Kaur. Truthfully, her writing is inherently bad, or at least it was last time I read it. Most of her poems aren't actually poems but tidbits of Facebook wisdom rebranded as the new commodification of art. While modern and abstract art have value and meaning, I found little to none in Rupi's work because most of her poems are so generic that they could apply to several different circumstances. I honestly believe that if I made a Facebook style inspiring post with one of her poems as a caption (without stating its her work) I would be bullied for being "fake deep" by all my mutual followers.

I say that her writing is inherently bad because barely any of her poems branch out in format or style. She does what all instagram poets and those just introduced to writing poetry do and just writes sentences and divides them in random spots. A good writer should know how to write good abstract poems while also knowing how to format a poem to be more lyrical or follow constricting formats because it takes skill to do.

That being said, in the few poems written by her that are longer (keep in mind I'm using "poem" loosely in this post), there are good ideas being thrown out. Especially in some of her newer work there are certain ideas, wording, and metaphors that I like. Still, it feels like most of her work is still in its draft phase and she just randomly wrote down the first poetic thought she had. A lot of her books feel like filler.

One reason I believe she's so popular is the commodification of art. She takes advantage of the fact that she can sell her one sentence ideas because they are fast and easy to read. More and more, I see people gravitating towards things they can finish fast and easy. I like to call it the TikTok effect. Platforms are promoting short, simple ideas, especially ones that are regurgitated, because they are easy for people to digest and like quickly. It also allows people to assign meaning to something so the actual writer or creator doesn't have to. This makes it appeal to everyone, specifically those who don't want to branch out and read or watch something that doesn't directly agree with them. Or something that they can't directly relate to. This sets up a near perfect environment for poets like Rupi Kaur to thrive. Basically, Rupi Kaur might be a bit of a genius for taking such quick and efficient control of this to market her art.

This also brings up the question: What is art? Could Rupi Kaur's poetry be defined as art? I once saw a post that compared her art to an abstract painting, but the truth is, writing is a very different medium than paintings. While abstract paintings can be beautiful because they are aesthetic, writing has to be crafted in a different way because the visuals it creates are in a person's mind. It takes both time and meaning to create a good piece of art. I am a firm believer that not all art is good art and art won't be good if it only consists of one of these. That's why creating art is a process, and one that takes time and practice. Nobody wakes up suddenly good at art and nobody becomes good at creating meaningful art if they don't try to do more than write and sentence and split it in half.

#writing #creative writing #writing advice #rupi kaur #poetry #writing help #what makes art #published writing #I strongly dislike rupee kaurs poetry but she seems nice enough #please understand that I actually have nothing against rupee kaur I just have beef with her writing #and I have beef with the commodification of art #and I have beef with your mom #sorry for making a your mom joke but actually I am not because I am the funniest person alive

[willowstreetstories]

Notes on Zuihitsu Poets share what draws them to the genre By The Asian American Writers’ Workshop

This week we published the 随筆 | Zuihitsu notebook, featuring interpretations on the genre from twenty-one poets. Frequently translated from the Japanese as “following the brush,” the zuihitsu is a Japanese genre of writing tracing back to Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book. A medieval writer and courtier born in 966, Shōnagon chronicled court life with witty anecdotes, lists, sharp observations and opinions on people’s behavior and customs, and poems, among other miscellany. Writers—in particular Yoshida no Kenkō, who wrote Essays in Idleness between 1330 and 1332—followed Shōnagon’s lead and expanded the genre, which is still written today in Japan. In The Columbia Anthology of Japanese Essays: Zuihitsu from the Tenth to the Twenty-First Century, editor Steven D. Carter writes it is now “a supergenre in which one will often find a mix of subgenres, everything from reportage and travelogue to poetry, literary criticism, biography, confession, journalism—and so on, almost ad infinitum.”

We invited notebook contributors, most of whom write primarily in English, to share how they encountered the genre and what draws them to it. Several noted that the poet Kimiko Hahn, who advised The Margins on this notebook, introduced them to the genre. Hahn laid the groundwork for the zuihitsu in American poetry, in particular with her collection The Narrow Road to the Interior (Norton, 2006). Shortly after the book came out, Hahn shared in a BOMB interview that she initially studied zuihitsu in an academic setting but started writing them in the nineties after being invited to do so for a reading at the Poetry Project celebrating Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book. 

While the zuihitsu is frequently compared to an essay, Hahn showed its possibilities as a poetic text. In a 2021 article for the American Poetry Review, Hahn wrote: 

Zuihitsu, literally, “running brush”; This uniquely Japanese genre is a poetic text lacking the formal structural principles we associate with Western verse. Through a variety of techniques—fragmentation, juxtaposition, varying lengths, disparate forms (observation, anecdote, journal, catalog, … and a hybrid text), and an organizing subject—it creates an impression of spontaneity and a quality of “imperfection.”

Many contributors to the Zuihitsu notebook seem drawn to these qualities. Some seem to find within it a fragmentary and intuitive style of thought; others gravitate toward its sense of voice, taking inspiration from Shōnagon, whose tone in The Pillow Book is by turns delighted, irritated, contemplative, disdainful, and bemused. And many contributors noted the freedom and relief found in a genre not within the Western canon and one that encourages voice, hybridity, and imperfection. As Ching-In Chen writes, “Encountering the zuihitsu—a small room opening up with sunlight. Another vantage point.”

—Dana Isokawa

Aimee Nezhukumatahil ​​The zuihitsu is a mimic octopus. It’s the closest form that resembles how I think, how I map the world. One flash displays lyric fragments, another line displays some reportage, another shows some running of the senses, which is of course, a sort of “running of the brush,” that I always try to maintain in my zuihitsu.

Betsy Aoki I had read The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon in undergrad out of curiosity, but I hadn’t studied the actual craft of writing the zuihitsu until taking a weeklong workshop with Kimiko Hahn at the Fine Arts Center in Provincetown in 2015. (The first draft of “Unsuitable for five or six blocks” was written at that time.) I had read some of Hahn’s own zuihitsu prior to taking that class, but hadn’t realized everything the zuihitsu entails when you write one. People talk about wabi-sabi, the beauty of the imperfect, all that jazz—what they don’t tell you about is the freakin’ work it takes to make things look that easy. Also, the form demands a voice. Sei Shōnagon was an aristocratic wit whose court required she dash off perfect and imperfect thoughts on the daily, in verse. Sending tweets or a couple short emails is not the same, but that process gets close to the immediate delivery expected, the pressure to get it right in a timely way, social conventions in play. All this pressure—to be lively, to bring images sharply to the mind’s eyes—are what hone her zuihitsu like diamonds. 

I think I was drawn to this form the way other poets are drawn to the sonnet, to see what it teaches, or to think about the relationship between form and intention, which is what compelled Jericho Brown to invent a form of his own, the duplex. I study technique and form to see what emerges under constraint. Shōnagon leans on lists—but are they really like grocery lists or more like associations of remembrances, philosophy and dreams? How does she contain them and how does she let them run free? (Think of Virginia Woolf’s long sentences in To the Lighthouse, and how she carries you along the winds of time, smoothly and effortlessly, and you get the gist of how far-sweeping a range the zuihitsu can reach.) Shonagon was sniping about people’s hairstyles and behaviors, but she was also in a situation where she could be put to death for offending the wrong person. The humanity in those little bits of etiquette mishaps and transgressions alongside the seasonality of court life saved her work from being denounced as treason. Instead, she could read them aloud to amuse others. And eventually, hundreds of years later, we’d read them to get a flavor of her time. Heady stuff for the modern poet to study!

Ching-In Chen Love Letter to Dear Zuihitsu

As a younger writer, I stayed away from writing in form. I had been introduced to what felt like a very limiting structure that didn’t quite feel like it fit my writing. Encountering the zuihitsu—a small room opening up with sunlight. Another vantage point.

Opened me up to what was possible—I never knew a form could feel blurry and open. More like a pulse to listen to.

Writing zuihitsu revealed me to myself. Unpeeled layers of those other forms I rejected. Helped me understand other ways of entering a relationship with form. Thank you, dear zuihitsu, for these gifts.

Jee Leong Koh I was introduced to the zuihitsu in a workshop on Japanese poetic forms taught by Kimiko Hahn and immediately fell in love with it. How fresh Sei Shōnagon sounds across the centuries! What is the secret to such eternal freshness? Trained in traditional Western forms, I was looking to expand my repertoire by looking again to the East, and what I found was not so much a form as a voice. Sure, Sei Shōnagon is a privileged snob, as a literary friend pointed out with a sniff, but I love to put on her beautiful robe, rub some precious rouge on my cheeks, burn a fine incense stick, and wait for my lover to arrive in the night.

Jenny Xie The zuihitsu form is a welcome reprieve from the will: an invitation to clear space for the drift of the mind and observe how it gets assailed by thought, feeling, loosened memories. I’m especially drawn to watching something emerge into being through brushstrokes, and the manner in which fragments get charged by—and take on deeper meaning through—juxtaposition, movement, accrual.

Joseph O. Legaspi Earlier in the pandemic, it seems that all I could write were fragments—inconclusive, untethered, strange. And all I could write about was the pandemic and its periphery, and its dark cloud. The fragments are not akin to my usual poetic practices and aesthetic. Of course I’m fully aware that my writing is a manifestation of our shattered, segmented, isolated, fraught, and dangerous existence.

However, when reintroduced to the zuihitsu for this folio, a proverbial light bulb lit up. After relearning its characteristics and revisiting Kimiko Hahn’s The Narrow Road to the Interior, I realized the fragments I’d collected these past two years were given a vessel. With zuihitsu, I acquired an organizing principle. I enacted “the brushstrokes” in tracing the psyche, illustrating the emotions, and threading the imagery of my fragments into a narrative, both intimate and universal. The zuihitsu allowed me to draw up a map, not solely cartographically but painterly as well. How else to portray this disembodied, disorienting, and mystifying time? The zuihitsu had given my fragments a form.

Juliet S. Kono When I studied with Kimiko Hahn last summer, the class opened a whole new direction of possibilities in my writing. I love the collage element found in the zuihitsu: the intermix of ideas expressed through prose and a diversity of poetic forms.

Rajiv Mohabir I am drawn to the zuihitsu as a form of migrant poem. It was brought into the world of American poetry through the work of Kimiko Hahn and it resists simple genre definition, relying on temperature and voice, arrangement and precision. The idea of an aesthetic practice outside of the “American” (read white) canon opens up so many possibilities for me as a writer with roots in the United States, the Caribbean, and Asia.

Sasha Stiles I was first introduced to zuihitsu through Tina Chang, who I’m very grateful to have studied with on a couple of occasions, and who is responsible for bringing more than one poetic genre into my life. (My first pecha kucha was also written under her guidance.) At first, I was struck by zuihitsu’s resonance with my tendency to collect copious notes, quotes, tidbits from assorted reference materials, stray scraps of ink-covered paper—intuitively pulling together disparate fragments that seemed to want to be in conversation with each other. Later, I found zuihitsu to be an incredibly apt form for curating machine-generated outputs, which reflect a vast array of perspectives, linguistic styles, voices, vocabularies, personas, intentions. I’ve come to think of the training data sets I compile for my AI alter ego as a kind of zuihitsu, too—a diffuse, dynamic pre-poem written for a solitary cybernetic reader who then attempts to create her own.

Sokunthary Svay I was initially drawn to the zuihitsu through my hero-mentor-friend Kimiko Hahn, whose work has influenced me enormously for two decades now, even before I started writing seriously. I love the note-taking aspect of zuihitsu. It’s a genre that works for my short attention span. I often find myself jumping back and forth between ideas, chores, and responsibilities, so it fits in with the way my headspace works. When I wrote “Manchester Chinatown 2022,” I was in Manchester, England, and needed some comfort. I decided to walk to Chinatown for some beef pho broth. I’ve always been conscious of being a member of the Asian diaspora, but it has had a new sense of urgency and hypervisibility since COVID-19, and so I walked with those thoughts. And when I returned to my place, I took notes on this “Asian feeling.” At the time I was also reading books for my PhD orals exam, and that factored heavily into my sense of a racialized and colonized self.

Wo Chan I love the zuihitsu because it feels alive. It floats, twists, and wiggles like unhemmed fabric on a line, an expression uninterested in perfection. The zuihitsu doesn’t ask “what’s good?” or “what’s bad?” but simply “what is?”. And usually the answer to “what is?” is fresh, surprising, and sensitive to the texture of one’s life. Starting a zuihistu feels the same as improvisatory dancing. One is moved by a musical impulse, but in this case the music lives in the sparkling details of daily observations and internal musings. A writer tracks onto the page a texture, a movement with language skimmed off the immediate surface of daily living.

I wrote these poems in the summer of 2021. To process the grief of the pandemic, the amorphous sense of sitting unemployed, the endless scroll of my doomsday phone, I gave myself a ritual of walking to the water around 6 p.m. to sit and say goodbye to the sun. I was meditating every evening on the pier, and I did so all summer so long as the weather permitted. I am glad I had this form to write in. Between zazen and push-ups, this felt like another form (and I used this in a bodily sense) to return to, a way to practice my thinking and feeling with full acceptance and intention.

#zuihitsu #poetry #Asian American Writers’ Workshop

[broadsidemagazine]

"Yevtushenko, Lorca, and Bob Dylan", written by Josh Dunson

"Mr. Dylan's compositions don't fit into any pigeonhole; the minute you have one characterized, it flies away. His lyrics mix a solo sermon out of Guthrie's conversational folksay with a dash of Rimbaud's demonic imagery or even a bit of Yevtushenko's social criticism." Robert Shelton, New York Times, April 13, 1963

A lot of other people have been comparing Bob Dylan not only to Yevtushenko but to Garcia Lorca, especially after hearing Bob do his “Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall”.

It is difficult to fit any true poet in a “pigeonhole”. That's too small a space for a creative artist, too small for a roving singer like Bob Dylan. When asked how he writes his songs, Bob just says they're up there in the air, and he just picks them down, and if he didn't, somebody else would. I think there's more in this thought than merely modesty. In it there are many scatterings of truth.

Why is it when you read through great poets of different cultures and different times that much of their imagery is similar, and many times they talk about the same feelings and things? One way of answering this is to say there are certain common events all these poets see and react to -- war, love, nature, children; and that their images likewise come from common experience. The way Bob Dylan might answer it would be that these poets reached up into the same piece of air, and what they pulled down, in their individual ways, was their poems and their songs.

A number of people see Yevtushenko and Dylan as being close together. as both being social critics, and thereby playing a similar role in their respective countries. It seems to me that the impact of and the poetry itself are quite different. In Russia there is the tradition of the poet as an important social critic that dates back to Pushkin, and goes right through the Soviet period beginning with Mayakovsky and finally to the present day where Yevtushenko’s most recent book, published in 1962, sold out its edition of 100,000 copies. America's most important social critics have been her novelists, ie: Harriet B. Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and her journalists, ie: Lincoln Steffens’ Shame of the Cities. Our poets, even our popular ones like Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg, undergo book editions of 5 to 10 thousand with the publisher still taking a loss.

But we have had our great social poets, and I think when Bob’s work is fully evaluated he will number among them. Bob does not mince words when he speaks about the "masters of war”:

I hope that you die and your death will come soon, I’ll follow your casket by the pale afternoon, And I’ll watch while you’re lowered down to your death bed, Then I’ll stand over your grave ‘til I’m sure that you're dead.

Yevtushenko wishes death on the anti-semites in Babi Yar:

How horrible it is that pompous title the anti-semites calmly call themselves,  Society of the Russian Race. No part of me can ever forget it. When the last anti-semite on the earth is buried for ever let the International ring.

Yevtushenko sees in the death of the anti-semites a re-affirmation of the society in which he lives. Dylan in his songs too calls for the righting of the wrongs in his society, but they are so multitudinous and deeply imbedded what may be necessary is a new society as Woody Guthrie visualizes. A striking difference between Yevtushenko and Dylan is that Bob’s action is much more intense -- he will follow the war planner's casket to make sure that he is dead. And in “Emmett Till” he lashes out not only at the lynchers but at the great mass of us who by standing aside and failing to take action against racism permit it to continue:

If you can't speak out against this sort of thing, A crime that's so unjust,  Your eyes are filled with dead man's dirt, Your mind is filled with dust. Your arms and legs they must be in shackles and chains, Your blood must refuse to flow, For you would let this human race, Fall down so godawful low.

Intensity added to a wide-ranging view gives us this Dylan verse in “With God On Your Side” which has implications much deeper than only the problem of anti-semitism:

When the second World War came to an end We forgave the Germans and then we were friends. Though they murdered six million, In the ovens they fried, The Germans now, too Have God on their side.

I get the feeling on hearing Dylan and reading Lorca that they both pull their poems out of the same body of air, although there are marked differences and Bob has never read Lorca. It is as though they met one night on a mountainside and looked out over the world’s lands and oceans and saw the same things and agreed to tell us, each in his own way, what they saw. Bob sings: “I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warning” while Lorca says: “these clouds are broken by fistblows of coral that carry a fiery cocoon on their backs.”

Bob is much influenced by Woody Guthrie, of course, and I think it is here where comparisons become the most meaningful. Woody did not confine himself to “silo sermons” and those who say he “did not exceed the boundaries of talk song” should take another look at his work. His imagery many times is subtle, strong and lyrical:

I tell you about the winds and the weathers and oceans and the lands and the continents that have riz and sunk since this little hunk of dirt first whirled off the burning sun. I tell you of the men and the women that bathed their eyes in the zig zag lightning and hugged and kissed in the rumbling thunder and about every union wheel that ever did run down a union road…

Bob Dylan’s “Hard Rain” and “Blowin In The Wind” come to mind right away. He means it sincerely when he sings in his “Letter To Woody”:

Hey Woody, but I know that you know All the things that I’m sayin and many times more.

(Broadside #27, June 1963)

#josh dunson #bob dylan #yevtushenko #lorca #broadside #broadside ballads #broadside magazine #sing out #sing out! #writing #articles #folk music #folk #music #1963 #60s

[eicenrellarchives]

Welcome to Ky of Sonder's Eicenrell Archives!

Like the description says, this is a side blog for @kyofsonder that's specifically focused on my writing. While I enjoy mixing my writing work with more passive reblogging and not-fiction-related personal posts on my main blog, it can get frustrating not having a central archive of the stories/poems/writeblr things I've posted to Tumblr. To solve this problem and give readers a place to just easily rad what they want from my works, I've created this archive.

There's no requirement to follow my main blog in order to follow this one, and I couldn't enforce it if there was. It's also perfectly fine to address writeblr ask and tag games here, but know that if you ask anything that's not writing related I'll answer it on my main blog (or another side blog if I make others).

Content Notice:

All writing will have content warnings where applicable, if I ever forget or if a reader has a specific thing they would like included in these warnings (ex: I don't think birds need a warning, but someone with a phobia of them might prefer bracing themself before reading descriptions of them) please send an ask or message and I will fo my best to add it to my warnings in the future.

Commission Info:

I'm currently rebuilding my writing habits and haven't had time to do research on standard commission rates, but I'm open to taking a commission or two from those willing to discuss price in messages until proper rates and slots can be decided. Thank you for your patience, and please reach out if you are also willing to be patient about price negotiations.

Tag System:

Spoons providing, I tag my work for organization purposes first and give my thoughts in the tags after. These tags include

sonder stories - all prose, including any asks or tags involving prose, and OC development

sonder songs - all poems and lyrics, including any asks or tags involving poetry, and poetry development

sonder solos - all prose created/assisted by playing solo TTRPGs involving mechanics like flipping over playing cards, rolling dice, drawing straws, etc.

sonder snippets - all excerpts and short content taken from longer works and/or works in progress

story link - all fully finished stories presented in the form of an external link to a site such as google docs or AO3 or somewhere else

eicenrell archive - all archived copies of writing, most posts should have this tag

analogue media - all screenshots of handwritten prose, poetry, etc.

eicenrell info - all worldbuilding related to the eicenrell universe where my stories take place

eicenrell worlds - when specific worlds from the eicenrell universe are mentioned by name

eicenrell magic - when specific magic systems from the eicenrell universe are mentioned by name

night write - all transcriptions or photos of prose and poetry handwritten in a journal on a (mostly, spoons and other factors permitting) nightly basis

sonder speaks - announcements and personal info, while this is largely restricted to the main blog it'll come up here sometimes

tag games - all content responding to or joining in tag games from various corners of the writeblr community

ask games - all content responding to or joining in ask games from various corners of the writeblr community

a place to return novel - all content related to a novel wip of mine titled A Place to Return

apricots novel - all content related to a novel wip of mine titled Apricots

to be honest novel- all content related to a novel wip of mine titled To Be Honest

stray identities novel - all content related to a novel wip of mine titled stray identities

love as indicated wip - all content related to a story collection/novel wip of mine titled love as indicated

Other Tags Pending...

OC Masterpost

Pending...

#sonder speaks #eicenrell archive #eicenrell masterpost #eicenrell reference #I'll do my best to keep this archive orderly #it should be easy when my main blog exists to hold the not orderly posts

[littlest-dark-age]

Damiano david headcannons

Tagging @daddydamiano @noshame-bb @mywritingonlyfans

Translations 1, my soul 2, angel 3, my love 4, my life 5, little star 6, puppy 7, bunny 8, sweetness. Please let me know if any translation is incorrect.

Damiano would always be pressing kisses into your soft skin, wherever he could reach at the moment. The two of you are cooking and you have a huge sleep shirt on that reveals your shoulders? Kiss. You're fiddling with his hands out in public due to nerves? He's kissing every finger while looking you in the eye with a grin. You'd think he's convinced its a carnal sin to not kiss you every five minutes

He would beg you to do his makeup, constantly. He loves the intimacy of it, you usually sit on his lap for it and the way you gently cup his strong jaw turns him into an absolute puddle. You lose count of how many times you have to make him look back at you because he just wants to close his eyes and sink into the warmth you radiate. But you can't be mad at him, not when he looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes, shining with love.

Damia would absolutely give you one of his rings, and if it doesn't fit your fingers, no worries. He'll just give you one of his chains to put it on. He loves to kiss it when you wear it, whether it be on the chain or your hand. It always makes his heart skip a beat, a claim to the world that he was the lucky one to capture your affections

Please play with his hair, please. He will turn into a puppy the minute your nails graze his scalp. It doesn't matter the length, he loves it. His eyes slowly shut as you scratch at the shaved sides but he'll deny that he's about to fall asleep. 

Spa nights. Just, spa nights. He will let you put the cute animal headbands on him to keep his hair out of his mask, even letting you put it on him. Dami would love to watch movies like Legally Blonde and Clueless while you paint his nails and the glittery mask on his face dries. Never wearing a shirt, saying he wants skin to skin with you as he raises your shirt up to your chest so the two of you are pressed together. He'd sit on the floor, letting you work the hair mask through his hair as the first movie goes off and he starts to hunt for another, one of his hands stroking your bare leg.

Sleepy make out sessions are his favorite, after he's had his tea and the two of you are dead tired but can't stop. Even going as far to tell you that the two of you really should go to bed, as he's sweetly kissing you. There's no rush to it, no need to hide away your love as it's just the two of you. Locked away from the rest of the world, where damiano david is just yours. Where his nose keeps bumping yours just so he can hear you laugh and have you rub your own against his, like a bunny. His hands snaking up the back of your shirt to stroke down the length of your spine with the tips of his fingers. Barely enough for you to be able to feel it. 

If you were okay with it, he would absolutely want to tattoo you. He would never pressure you to if you really didn't but he would try to convince you if you were on the fence about it. If you let him pick, good luck. It would either be something like 'i am yours', which he would get a matching one. Probably around his heart. Or it would be something for måneskin. To have something he worked so hard on, permanently on someone he loves so so much would have him ecstatic. 

The pet names. They're never ending and ever changing. He says he can't help it and that he just says what comes to mind when he sees you. Whether that's anima mia 1, angelo 2, amore mio 3, vita mia 4, stellina 5, cucciolo 6, leprotta 7, or dolcezza 8. You never know which one to expect but they all bring a smile to your face, nevertheless. 

Damiano would always ask your opinion on his stage outfits, not really for reassurance but more so to involve you in every possible thing he can. He loves your input and always takes it into consideration. And you help him remember some things, like something might make him too hot or might restrict his movements on stage. The practical things he doesn't always think about, more focused on the look and aesthetic of it. 

Pictures, pictures and more pictures. He loves taking pictures of you doing the smallest of tasks, especially for when he has to be away from you. If you hid your face, he would still adore the photo but pout a bit because he couldn't see you. Even if photos could never compare to the real thing, in his words. He just wants you to be able to love yourself the way he loves you. He doesn't care about some imperfections, they're what make up you and everybody has them. So, it's probably easier to just let him have his pictures. 

His lockscreen is a picture of you and him with the cats piled up between the two of you. You didn't even know he took it until you went to check something on his phone for him. Dami says you look so peaceful in it, pressing a kiss to the cat's head with your eyes closed, and that it always helps him calm down when he looks at it. That it reminds him of home when he's not there to hold you on the nights on the road. Although, his wallpaper is an entirely different story. A bit more...spicy, if you will. It's a picture of you laying in bed wearing black lacy lingerie with a camera in your hand, and Damiano's legs are able to be seen straddling your waist.

He might not always be able to call or facetime during a tour but believe it when he makes those calls worth it. He loves to be able to call you for hours at a time and if time zones allow it, go to sleep with you on call. If not, that's okay. He has your time zone saved in his clock so he can always be sure to send you a goodnight or good morning text, even if it's a bit late or early. Damia needs to have that little slice of normalcy to keep him from going crazy during the tour. He lives and breathes music, don't get me wrong. But you are his soul and his mind, without you, there would be no music. 

If you're out with the band, he will pull you as close as you'll allow. Even onto his lap if it's a more private place or just you and the others. But this also means you'll be poked and tickled the entire night, even if you slap his hands away. He can't keep his hands off of your ribs, no matter how sore his hands get from your smacks. He compares it to when a kitten nibbles on them.

Damiano needs to be convinced to take a break and slow down, often. He gets so swept up in it that he doesn't realize he hasn't had a proper meal in a couple of days or that he's been skimping on sleep to write lyrics and play around with harmonies. Getting him out of the studio is hard, but much needed. He will appreciate it, as well as apologize for neglecting you for the past days. A nice date or just something to get him outside is just what he needed. No matter how casual it is, being able to relax and spend some time with you is one of his favorite things to do.

Some of his favorite dates are the ones where the two of you are able to just do something and have a good time without the pressure of having to dress up and get ready. He still uses the heart shaped mug you made him on one of your dates, still listens to the record you got him when the two of you got all of your favorite albums and swapped. He still has the tickets from the first movie the two of you were able to go and see together, stuck in between the worn pages of some old book of italian poems he's had forever

His love language is a mix of acts of service and gift giving. He loves to give you little trinkets and stuff he finds while on tour, each item reminding him of you in some way or another. Even if it's just a rock he thought you might like, a pair of earrings you've mentioned before or even just something he thought you might could use. And he will give you one of his oversized blazers if the two of you are out and it's cool, even make sure you have enough to eat and offer you bites of his own food if you want. Hell, if you wanted what he ordered versus what you ordered, he would swap it even if your dish isn't his favorite thing.

Dami loves cooking with you, there's something so domestic about it that he can't help but imagine your future together. He always claims that the meals the two of you prepare together are the best thing he's ever eaten, no matter how simple it is. Just don't break the pasta in front of him, you'll send him into cardiac arrest.

He loves it when you trace and kiss his tattoos, they're something he's proud of and knowing how much you like them just makes him happy. Of course, he knows you don't have to adore every tattoo he has as long as he's happy with it, but it still makes him feel nice when you show his ink a bit of love. It always tickles him a bit when you drag your nail on the ones in his chest, sending shivers down his spine when you do. 

He is a cover hog, yet denies it with every bone in his body. He claims you push them onto him most of the time, despite the fact that you struggle to cover up completely whilst he's on the other side of the bed bundled up like a baby with almost the entire cover. Thankfully, he's warm enough that you can just curl up behind him or into his side and get all the heart that you need from him. He still denies that he hogs the covers when the entire comforter is in a pile on his side, almost like he's trying to build himself a nest

Showering together is one of his favorite things, he loves how intimate it can be. Holding you and helping you wash up without any need to be awkward and feeling comfortable in your own skin in front of each other means so much to him. Being able to be open with one another and not hide anything, even if it's insecurities about your body. He understands that the world isnt always the nicest place and that he can't undo how people's words might hurt you but he'll try his best to get you to love your body

Damiano would love to teach you italian if you didn't already and wanted to learn. He's so excited to be able to share something like this with you that he doesn't realize how hard it is to teach someone an entire language. He overestimates himself and how good of a teacher he is, but that doesn't mean he won't try his best. It just takes a little bit of time, for the both of you. He understands the struggles of learning a new language and wouldn't try to push you to learn it so soon. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day. 

#damiano david x reader #måneskin #maneskin #damiano david #damiano david x y/n #damiano david imagine #damiano david headcanon #måneskin x reader #måneskin x y/n #måneskin imagine #måneskin headcannon #maneskin x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin x y/n

[dk-thrive]

Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty

There’s a passage in Rilke’s “Letters to a Young Poet” that I’ve thought about often since I read it. In his first letter to the student who had written him for guidance, Rilke provides the most extraordinarily direct instructions for how to write a poem:

“As if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose. … Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty — describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember.”

There are endless ways to write a poem, but this formula is timeless and foolproof — describe your sorrows and desires, of course, but let the poem think, too, and furnish it with Things. The particular mix of objects, ideas and emotions that make up a poem is the readout of all of one’s lyric decisions.

— Elisa Gabbert, from "The Lyric Decision: How Poets Figure Out What Comes Next" (New York Times, January 25, 2022)

#Elisa Gabbert #Rainer Maria Rilke #Letters to a Young Poet #write #writing #feel #sorrow #beauty

[neocatharsis]

NCT’s Mark Lee on Dreams, Instagram Poetry, and Growing Up

Mark has a lot going on — but he’s making time for poetry, introspection, and, of course, the members of NCT Dream. - Vivien Wu

“I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot these days!” Mark Lee exclaims over Zoom from SM Entertainment’s Seoul headquarters.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

And while this may be the fifth year since their debut, in the grand scheme of things, the members of NCT Dream are still very, very young — by most standards, they would still be considered to have their entire careers ahead of them. Growth has brought them here, but where does Mark think it will take them in the future?

“Growing just never stops for us, I can see us growing continuously, endlessly,” he replies. “What the future holds is something that we will never know, but we always do try to prepare during the present, and so with whatever time we have currently and with whatever album, or whatever stage, or whatever piece of music it may be, we’re willing to make sure that we have the next one coming too.”

A final thought. “I’m glad that we’re striving for that, ‘cos we started off as…” Mark shakes his head, “…as babies.”

© Teen Vogue

#nct #nct dream #Mark #nct 127

[kitkatd7]

Christmas Party

Summary: You’re having a great Christmas eve… until you aren’t. You’re being bullied and Loki isn’t having any of it.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst! self-consciousness, bullying/belittling, cursing, fluff ending

Requests: 

Requested by @myraiswack: Hello love, congrats again on 500!!! Could I request a prompt thing for Loki with 4. “Leave me alone” angst prompt but then a fluffy end with 9. “Hold me” (so kinda a hurt & comfort thing? Idk you can do whatever😁💕) Thank you so much 😘

Requested by @cap-n-stuff: Hi! Can I get an angst to fluff with Loki?? Thanks! 

Prompts: “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe.” (Season of Fiction Writing Challenge)

Word Count: 1482

A/N: This is for @star-spangled-beard-burn Season of Fiction Writing Challenge!! Congratulations again, and I hope you enjoy it! Beta read by the beautiful @rhemasky and the ever wonderful @cap-n-stuff thanks lovelies <3

Prompts will be in bold (Poem is not mine and I take no credit for it, I’m borrowing it from google) 

----------------------

You’re at Tony’s Christmas party with your boyfriend, Loki, and everything is perfect. The food is amazing, all of your friends are present, and you’re all watching Tony, who’s drunk, and singing Deck the Halls with the wrong lyrics. And to top it all off- You feel beautiful for the first time in a long time. Not that Loki didn’t tell you every chance he had how gorgeous you were- but having someone tell you and feeling it are two very different things. But tonight- Tonight is different. You look gorgeous; you feel gorgeous. A dark green dress hugs your skin delicately, accenting your curves. The golden sparkles that start at the top gently cascade down the strapless dress, thinning out until they disappear just before the hem of your skirt. Your hair twisted back into soft waves, held by golden pins. The necklace you never take off you rests at the hollow of your throat; An elegant gold star with small white gems. It was a present from Loki, gifted along with a poem: 

I want to invite you for a walk

To a quiet place; in the moor. 

When the breeze sings serenades, 

One of those nights-

The moon is full.

A restless pounding invades my heart

When I think of my confidants-

The stars.

If only they could speak,

What would they say?

If you could hear them speak,

For they know my fondness for you

And that in my thoughts,

There is no other one.

If only the stars could speak

They will tell you that I love you.

They would ask you, 

To love me back.

That was how he told you he loved you. The memory wraps around you in a warm haze as you smile up at Loki. His grip tightens around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you sigh contentedly. 

“Do you want champagne, love?”

You hum a yes, watching as his dark, deliciously clad form disappears into the crowd.

You roll your eyes upon hearing a high pitched voice call your name. You turn, coming face to face with one of Tony’s countless guests. Lord knows how she got an invite. 

“Aren’t you Loki’s ex-girlfriend?” She asks, not waiting for a reply as her friends shoot you a pitiful look. “That is so sad! I can’t believe it. Everyone thought you guys would work out- But can you really blame him for breaking up with you?” She snarks, tone shifting as she eyes you demeaningly. 

“What? No, we didn’t break-”

“I mean, sure, you’re sort of cute, in your own way. But honestly, you're not good enough for him anyway. It’s probably for the best. You’ve got too many… How can I put this lightly?” She pauses thoughtfully, her hand under her chin in fake contemplation. “...Imperfections.” She finally says maliciously as her friends nod in faux sympathy. 

“Also, you’re obviously way too clingy- Guys don’t like that.” She hums, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Loki needs a more confident girl. Prettier. Thinner. Someone like- well, someone like me, I suppose,” she says casually, eyes glinting assertively. 

All the air is pushed from your lungs as you choke back sobs.

Loki’s eyebrows furrow as he watches you whirl away from a group of women and push your way aimlessly through the crowd. He grabs your arm lightly as you turn to face him, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He asks, cupping your face gently when you shake your head and try to step away. He whispers your name, his eyes clouding in confusion. “Tell me what they said,” he prompts you gently. Blinking back fresh tears, you pull away. “Leave me alone,” you whisper hoarsely before rushing out, vanishing in the mass of bodies.

He looks around for the source of your pain, his eyes scanning the crowd so intently he doesn’t notice Thor come up beside him. “Are you alright, brother? You look tense.”

“I’m fine. It’s Y/N. Someone upset her greatly, and I think it only fair I return the favor,” Loki growled, striding across the floor with purpose, his eyes glinting. 

Stalking up to her, Loki glares daggers, his words dripping with venom. “I don’t know what exactly you said to Y/N, but I know the general context- If you think for even a moment that you are worth more than she is, you are desperately wrong. She’s the most beautiful, intelligent, gentle person I’ve ever met, and to call her anything less than that is simply your resentment overtaking the little sense you have. She is worth more than you could possibly imagine, and she deserves for you to treat her with more respect than anyone here. The only reason you aren’t begging for your life right now is because of her and the restraint she taught me. Consider yourselves lucky we didn’t meet a year ago. Now. Get. Out,” Loki snarls, eyes flashing with barely contained rage. 

----------------------------

Some minutes later, Loki opens the door to your room softly, slipping inside to find you perched on the edge of the bed, smudged mascara and drying tears mixing on your cheeks. Your dress in a forgotten heap on the floor, replaced with sweatpants and a hoodie that you never gave back to him. He crouches in between your thighs, his hands resting gently on your legs. All his quick wit evades him, and he finds himself unable to conjure the perfect words to ease your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You burst into fresh tears, burying your head into his shoulder, and all he can do is hold you as you try to find the words. “She’s right, you know?” You murmur, sitting up as a mirthless laugh passing through your lips as Loki looks at you in confusion.

“What was she right about, darling?”

“That I’m not like her. I can never be like her- I’ll never look like her, or sound like her, or act like her. I can never be that perfect. She was right about everything. She was right that I’ll never be good enough for anyone. But I’ll especially never be good enough for you-”

Your sentence cuts off as Loki’s lips capture yours, his hands cup your face as he kisses you with such a confident passion that it leaves you breathless when he pulls away. Resting his forehead against yours, he stares deeply into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that you aren’t good enough for me again. It is I who isn’t worthy of you, my love.  But she’s right-” He starts as you look at him in shock. “-That you aren’t like her... And that’s why I love you.” He huffs lightly to himself, brushing the back of his hand against the soft skin of your cheek while gazing at you like you hung the moon in the sky. “I don’t want you to be like her. I don’t want you to try to look or sound or act any differently than you are- Because as soon as you try to be someone else, you lose yourself. Darling, perfect is not a real thing. Perfect is a mask, an image of what someone else wants you to be. To be perfect is to be fake and to let go of every ounce of life in your being. I love you exactly the way you are, and always will.”

You stare at Loki in complete surprise, your lips parted slightly, at a loss for words.

He kisses you again with a dominating sweetness that you’ve never felt before. His lips are fierce and compelling against your own as you lean into him, all of the pain you felt slipping away into memory at the caring touch and soothing presence of your lover. 

“Hold me.” It comes out a breathless plea against his lips as he gathers you in his arms and moves you both to the headboard. 

You snuggle into him, your head on his chest and his arms securely around you. Anchoring you. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined us spending Christmas.” You hum tiredly against his skin in agreement. 

Before you can slip into sleep, you hear him murmur your name. Your eyebrows furrow at the soft expression on his face and the light dancing in his eyes. “You have to kiss me if we’re under the mistletoe,” he whispers. 

“Loki, there isn’t any-” You huff before following his gaze to the ceiling where there is, in fact, mistletoe. “That’s cheating.” you chuckle, leaning closer instinctively, eyes flicking between his and his lips. 

“Mm, perhaps. But if I get a kiss from you then it’s worth it.” He charms, lips curving into a warm smile. 

You sigh, into the kiss in pleasure and exhaustion before nestling back into his side. Maybe this isn’t a terrible way to spend Christmas.

-----------------------------

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#christmas party #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #SeasonofFiction2020 #writing challenges #kits writing #kits requests #requests #loki requests #fluff #angst #angst to fluff #loki angst #loki fluff #bullying #hurt comfort #marvel #christmas fic #loki hurt comfort #marvel angst #marvel fluff

[9tzuyu]

the art of delicate hands – pt. i

[ wandanat. ]

College AU.

Multiple part series ;

↳ snippets of their relationship and how I perceive them.

sumary:

wanda doesn't like to talk very much, only to her brother (and sometimes her lovely redheaded girlfriend).

notes:

if anyone international is reading this, ASL is shortened for american sign language (language of the hands).

+

this is a revised and edited version from when i wrote it on ao3 in 2018.

The only person that knew was Pietro. It was her little secret, and she could only hope that no one now would find out. She knew she shouldn't be ashamed, it was nothing to be ashamed over. Unsurprisingly however, it became her biggest insecurity – years of relentless bullying ensued that.

Wanda was always anxious. When she was seven she began experiencing panic attacks. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth became familiar over time as her panic attacks worsened.

All because she was mute and didn't feel comfortable to speak to anyone, including her parents. The only person Wanda felt comfortable enough to talk to was her brother (you could say that's because they're twins).

A doctor in Sokovia mentioned to Wanda's parents that therapy may help, that it may get her to speak more than four words a week. So her parents moved her when she was 16 and hoped for the best.

Within a year and a half Wanda was able to develop a clear understanding of American Sign Language. Eight months into the move and Wanda's parents had given up on Wanda ever talking, something that she took personal. They didn't catch on to English as quick as the twins did, their native language stuck closer than expected. Pietro didn't mind learning English quickly as he wanted to fit in school, and he also didn't mind studying ASL to communicate with Wanda on a deeper level.

American high school wasn't much better than her hometown. People talked, whispered and gossiped about her in class, muttered hurtful things about her appearance and the way she carried herself; a shy, quiet, timid girl. The worst part of it was when they mocked her for using a language that was supposed to feel safe for her. Pietro always came to her rescue, shooing people away, reminding them that she's his sister. The silver haired boy had no problem fitting in, it was only when they were apart did people tease the younger brunette.

When their parents died, Wanda took the brunt of the emotional attack it had on the twins. She'd been sitting in the backseat of the car, earbuds in, with her music volume at maximum capacity. Her father had tried to tell her to turn down the music while her mother rest in the passenger seat, window down with her eyes closed. When Wanda didn't hear her father, he reached over, eyes off the road, and tapped her. The second she registered his touch a semi-truck hit her father's door. In a matter of minutes Wanda and Pietro both were left alone to fend for themselves.

Putting the blame on herself only caused her to shut down further. It took over a year for Wanda to speak to Pietro again.

But as per usual, the twins stuck together and finished high school. The only difference was that they lived in foster care, they belonged to the state, up for grabs if anyone wanted them. That came to an end six months into their stay. The foster family proposed the idea of adoption, they had no problem in taking care of the twins for the rest of the time being – or, if they wanted, every day after as well.

At twenty, Wanda and Pietro eventually both went to college and shared a house with a bundle of other people on campus. The younger sibling even found herself a girlfriend within the group, her name being Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha didn't mind at all how little Wanda talked. She was curious, of course, but even before their relationship Nat never pushed her girlfriend into anything uncomfortable. Natasha could tell Wanda always made effort though, that's what drove the brunette into allowing herself a relationship.

When the redhead would sleep, Wanda would continuously practice signing. She'd sign songs and poems, movie scripts and books, everything she possibly could to improve herself. It was a very personal, in touch form of language for her.

Wanda had been with her girlfriend a little over a year and Natasha still didn't know all the unpleasant factors that came about her life. Wanda only told her just enough to get by, and she felt immensely guilty for that. Truth was she desperately wanted to tell Natasha, she just didn't know how. She'd thought about just signing something to her and hoping she would catch on, but figured that would be too much. Anxiety spiked in her chest and in her bones, and she was tired of feeling like a liar.

With a sigh, Wanda plopped down on her bed and pulled her phone out from her back pocket. Unlocking it, she went to her text messages and scrolled to Pietro's contact. When she was sure no one else was in the house, she tapped the call button and listened to the phone ring until Pietro answered.

"You know I'm in the other room, right? You literally could've called my name." He greeted, accent heavy through the speaker.

Wanda giggled as she ran her fingers through her hair. You're safe. Speak, it's okay. She reminded herself.

"Yeah, but are you free?"

"Always."

"Can you come here? I need to ask you about something." Pietro gave out a loud, playful sigh but walked to her room, disconnecting the call on his way in. "What is it, my dear sister? What could possibly be troubling you here on this day? Is it that scruffy redhead?" He smirked arrogantly but sat down in the desk chair across from Wanda, not failing to notice how she rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't have scruffy hair and you know it. It's soft, gentle – and much less damaged than your shit show of an excuse for bleached hair."

"Whatever you say, little chaos."

Wanda groaned, "Why must you still call me that?"

"It suits you well."

There was a shared moment of silence between the two before Pietro spoke up. "What was it you wanted to ask me about?" A small frown was plastered on Wanda's face and Pietro found himself wanting to know even more now. Wanda waited another minute before finally answering. "Should I tell her? You know, about..."

A huge smile took over her brother's face. He was ecstatic that she wanted this for her girlfriend. "Of course you should! I really think she'd be interested to know more about you – y'know, since you don't ever tell her anything."

"I tell her things!" Pietro shook his head, "Does she even know your birthday?" Wanda nodded and turned herself away from him. "I just don't know how to do it. I mean it'd be kind of heavy just taking her out to dinner only to tell her my deepest, darkest secret afterwards. I'm scared she'll hate me, Pietro! And I've never even spoke. More than like, 12 sentences all at once with her!" He softened knowing how much trouble one past  had caused his little sister. "Write her a note?" He suggested, but she shook her head. "I want to tell her, not write her."

Right before he was about to speak again there was a knock at the door. The pair looked up to find Natasha standing in the doorway smiling down at the two. "Am I interrupting?"

Wanda froze while Pietro arrogantly raised his eyebrow and announced his answer. "No. We were just finished talking."

Confusion was written on Nat's face and she stood there until Wanda shook her head and muttered a small "No," giving her the signal that she could come in.

"I'll be in the other room if you need me." Pietro got up, despite Wanda's silent plea for him to stay. He gave her a thumbs up and left the room.

Natasha closed the door and laid next to Wanda, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. "You okay?" Wanda nodded in reply and Natasha knew not to push. For now she'd just keep an eye on her, reassuring her that she could talk to her if need be.

Over the next few days Wanda seemed to be doing better. She was supposed to go to a party with Nat, but opted out to study for classes instead.

"Be safe," she whispered and planted a small kiss on Natasha's lips.

Everyone else went to the same party, leaving the house to just Wanda. She sent out a group message telling everyone to text her or ring her (at the very most importance) if they needed a ride. Wanda didn't drink much anyways so she didn't mind being the designated driver of the bunch. And besides, she didn't mind having some time alone, it gave her the absence of the boys so she could study.

However, after over an hour or so of studying Wanda was beginning to feel stressed. Her nerves were building and she could feel her jaw clench.

She needed a break.

With a small sigh, she got up and connected her phone to her speaker. After scrolling and clicking on her song of choice, Wanda found herself signing the words to a Modest Mouse song.

Green eyes closed as her hands began to string along with the words of the song. It was rather fast paced, but Wanda was able to keep up fairly well thanks to years of practice. Lyrics flowed through her fingertips and in the palms of her hands, her stress levels immediately decreasing as she went on.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Natasha was standing in the doorway watching her every move. She was absolutely mesmerized by Wanda's hand motions. Her finger spelling was very fast, and Natasha was curious to know how long Wanda had known ASL.

When the song was over, Wanda stopped her music and moved herself so she could study again. She grabbed her pens, pencils and highlighters, along with her textbook while her back faced Natasha.

"I didn't know you could sign." Natasha commented. A mix of shock and uneasiness quickly took over the calm look on Wanda's face.

It wasn't until then when Tasha put two and two together. She quickly rushed over to her girlfriend, and carefully engulfed her into a hug.

"Hey, no, I think it's really cool. You don't have to worry now, your secret's safe with me." Wanda began to shake in her grasp, tears forming in her eyes. She backed out of the embrace and against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.

"No, you're supposed to hate me, laugh at me. You're supposed to be anything but be cool with it." Natasha tilted her head, "Is that what they did to you?"

Wanda peaked out from underneath her arms, the confirmative nod sent Natasha's heart well beyond sinking. She’d never understand how people could willingly be so cruel.

"I'm here to listen, not judge." Her words softly echoed in Wanda's mind, and she watched Natasha carefully to see if she was lying. When she didn't make any remarks or snide comments, Wanda knew it was safe. Accent heavy, she began letting words slip from her mouth.

"I have really bad anxiety when it comes to talking, so I just don’t. Asl makes it easier to communicate, but growing up I was often teased for it. You’re really good at reading me without it, so I hid it from you. Guess their words still haunt me...” Wanda finished, giving Natasha a little more insight on her life.

Natasha moved closer to her girlfriend, bringing Wanda’s shaking body into her embrace. She then kissed the top of her forehead.

Wanda looked up to see Natasha thinking, her eyebrows scrunched together and she was chewing on her lip. She nudged her.

“I think it’s quite beautiful if you ask me.” Wanda cracked a smile and rest her head on Tasha’s shoulder. “Beauty comes from pain, I guess.”

But Natasha shook her head, “No, No, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Wanda nodded. She understood what Natasha was saying, she just didn’t believe it to be true when it came to herself. Nonetheless, she spoke the words, repeating the mantra so that maybe she could start to feel a belief in them.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

#wandanat #scarletwidow #scarlet witch x black widow #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x reader

[tolkienmetallist]

Rivendell

Music Style: Epic Black Metal with Folk influences

Country of Origin: Austria

Years Active: 1998 - ? (Last album was released in 2005, no word since then)

Current Member: Falagar (Gerold Laimer) - Everything

Discography: The Ancient Glory (2000) Elven Tears (2003) Farewell-The Last Dawn (2005)

Tolkien Band Name Reference: Rivendell is an elven outpost in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, and home to Elrond.

Website: No official website other than the bandcamp page - https://rivendell.bandcamp.com/

Youtube: No official Youtube channel, but the entire discography can be found on the channel Black Metal Promotion. I recommend the album Farewell - The Last Dawn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs2SSJVd88Q&t=1985s

Spotify Monthly Listeners: ~180

My Thoughts: Much like there are two main subgenres of Tolkien Metal, there are also two main lyric approaches. The first is “Tolkien Inspired”, which is where the lyrics are about Tolkien’s work and there may be a few quotes pulled directly from the books, but for the most part the lyrics are the original creation of the band. The second is what I am affectionately referring to as a “Tolkien Cover Band”, where the lyrics are just Tolkien’s original writings. Rivendell falls squarely into the second category. Almost all of the songs made by this band are covers of Tolkien’s poems. In particular, I recommend Rivendell’s versions of Eärendil and The Fall of Gil-Galad. I don’t think this is a bad approach to creating Tolkien metal as, even though the lyrics are going to stay the same between bands, there is still plenty of room for individuality and interpretation in the instrumentation of the song. Rivendell takes Tolkien’s words and combines them with black metal and folk influences to create something new.

The lyrics, combined with the use of folk instruments, as well as a mix of clean and harsh vocals, gives this band an enjoyable sound, even if you aren’t into black metal (I’ve seen several comparisons to Falkenbach, to give an idea of the sound). Persobnally, I’m a fan of folk music in general, so any time a band blends in a bit of folk influence, even if it’s just a touch of fiddle or bagpipes, it’s going to make me like the music a lot more. I know folk isn’t everyone’s preference, but I really like this band, and I hope more people will give them a listen.

#tolkien metal #heavy mithril #Rivendell #Rivendell (band) #lotr #silmarillion #the hobbit