#maybe I should write a book of poems for real

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 03

03 | ENCHANTED previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. i'm going through a rough / stressful period and i find this series and writing it very therapeutic so here we are! this chapter takes place around episode 7 release, i'm not really inclined to write about the filming in between for some reason (unless you'd be interested)

liked by walker.scobell, thelnarchives, and 262,287 others rickriordan With the release of the new PJO series on Disney+, I'm happy to announce that to celebrate I've partnered with some of your favorite authors and close friends of mine to present to you all a new look into the lives of our favorite demigods!

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A HALF-BLOOD will go online for free this February 20, 2024!

Click the link in bio for more info! PS: A sneak peak from our writers on the other slides

thelnarchive ... WHAT THE??? i have to manifest a chapter for my girl, manifesting a chapter or more please or even just one mention ↳ iamcharliebushnell YOU DIDN'T KNOW EITHER?????

user1 HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT????

user2 1) more stories about characters and 2) WRITTEN BY OTHER AUTHORS???? WHO COULD BE IN THIS PROJECT ↳ user3 i'm manifesting a story about tahlia and jason as kids oh my god

iamcharliebushnell imagine releasing a whole anthology to celebrate? that's the best author right there

user4 ohhh we're eating so good

walker.scobell another book and there's still not enough percy jackson in this world keep it coming i love your work ↳ aryansimhadri Imo too much percy maybe some more grover ↳ leahsavajeffries wrong there should be more annabeth

dior.n.goodjohn the gc going wild with this news

🃏 @CHILDOFHECATE what are your guys guesses for the stories in what it means to be a half-blood??? 🗨 32 comments 🔁 150 retweets ❤️ 456 likes

user1 a jason and tahlia story about them as kids, just a delve into their childhood

user2 more stuff on luke and rina, as individuals and as a couples- like i totally see a luke perspective on some situations or a conversation they had being in the book ↳ CHILDOFHECATE honestly i think it'd be so cool if they went like contemporary and also gave us maybe a poem or transcript / screenplay of a conversation between luke and rina

user3 stories about annabeth, tahlia, and luke's time before camp maybe fighting monsters together or just trying to survive ↳ user4 watch me cry over this one

user5 i just see a lot of delving into the lives of the original trio and also like the original supporting characters to like tahlia, luke, rina, even rachel

user6 grover's childhood! i really wanna see that or some parts of the story from his perspective

user7 Angst.

liked by iamcharliebushnell, aryansimhadri, and 320,372 others thelnarchives celebrating with the half-bloods

iamcharliebushnell when you're so excited over new lore you go and have dinner to talk about it ↳ thelnarchives this means so much to us

user1 YN IN THE SECOND SLIDE OH SHE'S GOREGOUS

user2 her face card never declines ↳ user3 it even has like benefits and a perfect credit score

dior.n.goodjohn fans first cast second ↳ thelnarchives this show has more more dressed up than my wedding

user4 this cast is so cute it's crazy

walker.scobell the 3rd pic >>> ↳ iamcharliebushnell oh so true ↳ i.am.andrew.alvarez a banger photo ↳ thelnarchives phone hijackers.

user5 the little black dress is doing so good for her, if i saw her in public i would've fainted ↳ user6 i can't believe i live in the same city as this girl like we breathe the same air???

leahsavajeffries i'm sat for the release, we're sat ↳ thelnarchives this is MY superbowl

aryansimhadri i feel excluded out of the 3rd photo ↳ thelnarchives that's okay because you're one of the girls ↳ iamcharliebushnell wait that's not fair

user7 aryan being part of the girls is so real and charlie wanting in is so cute

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo #pjo series #pjotv #heroes of olympus #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell imagines #smau #pjo smau #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson smau #pjo au

[mimiiis]

El Sol (pt.3.1) (Namor x Latina!Reader)

(photos are not mine)

Summary: Namor fulfills his promise, you show him a piece of your heart.

Warnings: !!All Mayan used was taken from a translator, i apologize if anything if wrong!! Reader is heavily mentioned/implied to be Meixcan— tiny bit of angst (??), some curse words, hunger, small mentions of cuts n bruises n pain, that should be alll ? !! Not thoroughly proofread!!

Series Masterlist- Prev. Next.

Word Count: 10.3k

A/n: Heey… Month and a half since I last updated 😧 hope a few of yall r still here 🤠 🫶 It says 10k on that word count but i feel like nothing happened…let me know what yall think 😭

Where the land meets the sea, that is where you’ll find my heart

You stare dumbfoundedly at the words before you. A heart aching pang ripped through your chest as you set down the piece of parchment you held, processing the words you had just read.

You swore you’ve heard that before, felt those words. But you’re sure you have never read this book before. Maybe it was from a movie, a song, a poem? Or was it a dream?

Your wrist had that dull ache again, the one you get from writing for too long without stopping. You whirled it around, stretching the tense and tight muscles of your hand. Your brows knit together as you tried to recall why the quote before you made you feel so…empty? Something about it made your soul cry out, as if you were so close to figuring out where it belonged only to be misplaced after each guess. Like a puzzle. But you got one piece wrong, you needed to start all over.

But you couldn’t have known it right? This book and story were kept down here for centuries, hidden and preserved from the rest of the world. But there are endless possibilities of the same words being written over and over…

Thinking about it made that melancholy feeling inside your chest grow, you may have even started crying. You decided that was enough translating for the day.

You sat up, stretching your arms over your head as the rest of your body extended itself as well. Bones cracked and joints popped at the relief of not being so stiff.

You looked over to your bed as your head hung slightly upside down. The neatly folded blankets in one corner, the fluffed and clean pillows, they had no sign of life. You blinked at them, ignoring the temptation to crawl back into the hammock and go to your dreams.

That day with Namor, it felt like one. And it was all you thought about. All you saw when you closed your eyes.

That grand city, it’s sun, it’s people. And their King. It was the king who consumed your waking thoughts. Who made your cheeks flush and kick your legs in a girlish manner at each thought of him.

When you awoke the next day, he kept his word. The second you had finished dressing, he called for you. You almost ran to him actually, anxious to see if the man from your dreams was still real. And he was, the smile that he gave you was still there. That soft sincere look fell upon his face when he realized it was you who entered his space. It made your heart full and each nerve tingle in excitement.

He let you talk, let you ask questions about Talokan, his people and their culture. Though he did not go into much detail about exactly why they ended up there, he did tell you how. About the vibranium-infused herb. About its properties, why and how he became king. He told you of his abilities. How he was born with them and why he was so different from his people. The question which led him to showing you talokan was finally answered, the gift of fast healing given by the herb. You marveled at his stories, they truly were something out of a fairy tale. But it was real. He was proof, Nikté was proof.

Though the subject on why Namor’s people lived in the water was what you would call touchy. He always tensed and quickly found a way to change the subjects each time you asked why his ancestors needed the vibranium infused herb in the first place. You never wanted to pry him for answers, but something inside felt like you knew what it was. You felt silly to pray that you were somehow wrong.

So you did nothing but listen to him. Let his words fill your soul and mind with the memory of him and his voice.

He let you do the same. For each story and question, he was allowed to ask for one in return. And you let him. He showed you his home, his heart. Though it may have been nothing but a pure glimpse, something told you he was not the kind to do that to just anyone.

You told him of your mother, your childhood. Your sisters and brothers, grandmother. About their significance in your life, the lessons they taught you. He listened as well, an intrigued look always on his face as you told him a story of your childhood.

Though the way he frowned and his brows rose when you ever brought up a sad memory of someone breaking your heart, it made you want to comfort him instead. He always looked like he wanted to say something.

I would never hurt you, the look read.

I know, you wished to tell him each time.

You had grown weary of the cave. You still didn’t know how time worked in the dark, often wondering what day it was after naps and sleeps.

You craved for the sun, prayed for it. You missed the breath the wind would bring to your lungs. The sounds of waves crashing upon the shore- of children and people laughing. Music and seeing people dance without a care in the world. That was the only home you’d ever known. How you yearned for it.

You thought about Namor's promise a lot.

3 days on land each month. But when is the next month? Has that month already passed? He didn’t say it would start immediately, maybe only when he wished. You’d never asked about the conditions. You felt that if you asked again, that painful and hurt look would appear on his face once more. The way he said your name echoed throughout your mind. You hardly truly knew him but something about the way he said made it seem as if centuries of longing and heartache were behind it. You couldn’t tell the difference if your heart was breaking in agony for the fact you could not have him in that moment or for pure human empathy.

You sighed, lifting yourself back up and closing the book that had managed to keep you distracted for the past days. Shaking your head lightly as you attempt to clear your head from those thoughts.

In fact, you were almost done with Le Ujo’ . The Maya only got easier, though still tricky when heard and spoken for you, reading was not as hard anymore. You were able to communicate with your blue skinned friend a bit more easily now- having her write down things while you practiced speaking in response.

You can’t say you were getting anywhere though, the way the syllables parted but blended into one made your head spin as Nikté said them so quick and precisely. Sometimes you’d give up and begin speaking gibberish, she’d always almost start yelling the phrase she wanted you to learn repeatedly. You’d simply laugh at her rage, seeing her brows knit as she tried to make herself look more intimidating for you made you take her less seriously instead. Eventually, she’d laugh back. The cave would explode in fits of giggles and snorts as the lesson of the day was long forgotten.

You smiled at the memory, wondering where your friend was now. The roaring growl of your stomach made you realize you were now hungry, which meant that lunch was near and she’d soon call you out. There was a bowl of fruit near you that you could snack on of course but, the thought of seeing him again made you want to wait.

Heat crept to your cheeks as you thought of being alone with Namor again. It was a regular occurrence now, spending every meal together, but the idea of it still made your heart pound. You had just seen him yesterday. But the image of his strong arms, thick hands, and chiseled face crept up into your mind.

Namor, his name like a melody you never wanted to end. It was torture to have to wait to see him again.

You hummed as a smile crept onto your cheeks, biting your lip as a giddy feeling coursed through your veins. You would have giggled in glee imagining him if it were not for Nikté suddenly coming up to you and gently poking your shoulder.

Your heart leapt out your chest, turning around quickly as your eyes widened at the sudden company. A silent scream escaped you as you met her eyes. You took her in as best as you could, doing your best to calm your racing heart as she simply looked at you in confusion and worry.

“M-Ma’alobech?” She asks, hands reaching towards you. Are you okay?

“Nikté!” You gasp, the realization that it was her in front of you finally processing into your mind. You let out a breathy chuckle, grasping her hand with yours as you steadied yourself. She made no noise, didn’t do her usual whistle and call of your name whenever she entered. Or maybe she did. Maybe you were just distracted with thoughts of Namor.

“Ma’alobech?” She repeated, her free hand coming up to grip your cheek as she lifted your head. The cold skin made you shiver, the feeling going down your back. It seemed as if you had swallowed the sun with her touching you. No matter how many times she did your hair, held your hand, or came near you, you could never get used to her freezing body temperature.

“Je’el.” You finally reply, nodding as you do so.Yes

She glared at you for a second, as if she truly didn’t believe your answer. You blinked, trying your best to say I’m fine without speaking. It seemed to work for she backed away a few moments after, letting you go before giving you a small soft grin.

“Le ajawo' taak u wilech.” She says. The king wants to see you.

One of the phrases you knew word for word.

~~~~~

Nikté didn’t do your hair that day. Didn't hand you any of those fine embroidered dresses or the golden cuffs either. Simply placed large jade earrings, the same as Namors, inside your palms before leading you to meet him.

As you walked you noticed that the cave was unnervingly quiet. The faint dripping of water was the only sound besides your own breath. No sounds of scattered and hushed whispers as you strolled along the rock carved halls.

There were no signs of guards either. The other women you’d occasionally see holding fruit or fabrics around the cave were gone as well.

You thought you may have gone mad, that you were purposely blocking out noises again. Maybe it was just the time in between guard shifts, maybe more were coming soon. You thought it was all fine, that you were becoming worried for no reason. Until you passed that room, the one previously full of those beautiful dresses. Only to peer inside and see nothing.

Empty. Completely barren. Besides that vanity style mirror on the wall, not a trace of life ever being there was left. Not a speck of gold, silver, or jade flashed upon the floor.

How strange.

The realization of how abandoned the cave had truly become finally began to sink in. Your skin crawled and goosebumps spread as you wondered why everyone had left.

The previous day the halls were bustling with laughter and gossip. The sweet scent of freshly cut fruit and coconut water was now gone, replaced with wet rock and bitter sea salt.

You turned to Nikté, wanting to ask her where is everyone? What happened?

But you saw that she too was on edge. Her shoulders were tense, along with her back straightened. She had always kept her hair free and flowing, but today it was done and kept in a neat long braid, you had just noticed. Even her aura changed. That once laid back and welcoming warmth around her was set to match the cold of her skin.

Your stomach churned at the thought of something horrible having happened.

You didn’t even have enough time to think of possibilities as you crossed those small stepping rocks to Namor huts. Looking up to only see two of the most terrifying beings you’d ever laid eyes upon.

You had a suspicion that everyone from Talokan was utterly beautiful. That their race was the gods favorite and they personally carved each of its warriors by hand. Looking at them, well, they proved you right.

It was two of them. A man and a woman. Simply looking into their eyes made everything inside your body cry. Each nerve and bone yelled at you to go hide or run as far from them as possible. You froze in their powerful presence as the fear inside you grew and grew with each millisecond.

Tall, thick, and muscular, the man was covered in a necklace that looked to be shark teeth protruding from each angle. Armor coated his shoulders and neck but kept his bare chest open, the leathers beginning again at the waist where you noticed scars. Scars that looked like they had been etched into his skin in a manner the person who did it knew it would leave scars. But that wasn’t what surprised you no, it was the large hammerhead shark skull that rested upon his head like a crown. Just how that may have gotten into his hand, you could not decide if you did or didn’t want to know.

But the woman. You believed Nikté to be the most beautiful creature you’d set your eyes upon but she… she was absolutely devastating. Her lashes were thick, cast upon her almond shaped eyes as she stared back at you. A halo of lionfish scales sat utop her own head, the light of the cave gleaming softly through the sheer material. There were some on her neck and shoulders as well, poking out in every direction like feathers. Her strong arms were out on display, nothing covering the tops of them as you admired the muscles. You couldn’t tell if the blue skin made them more prominent or if it made those strong arms look softer. She didn’t stay still long enough for you to find out.

They moved swiftly and suddenly. You almost jumped as their resting and tense arms moved. You couldn’t say what you expected for them to do next but this certainly was not it.

The salute. They were doing the Talokan salute— to you. As well as bowing, bending their waists ever so slightly. They closed their eyes and bowed their heads to you as well.

Confusion ran through you as you stared at them. You moved to look at Nikté, to ask her why they were doing this. But you found no help, for she was doing the same.

A sense of panic surged through you as you looked at the scene before you. Not much had happened today but it was turning out to be the strangest by far. You almost wanted to run, to get away from this sudden change of everything. The silence,no other people, these warriors. Nothing like you’d seen before during your time here. Everytime was so consistent, you weren’t wrong for being caught off guard now.

You wanted to say something, to ask what was happening. But nothing came out of your mouth. Not a squeak or breathe as your mouth opened. So you did the next best thing. You recalled how the salute was done by the Talokanil to Namor, how they placed their right wrist over their left. And in return he did it as well, only the left over the right. You had no idea if that was the correct way to respond, if that way was only for the King or not but— it was all you could think to do.

You bowed your head in return, wrists going over each other as you looked at the two intimidating soldiers in front of you. You prayed you didn’t do anything wrong, hoped you did something right.

And it seems as if you did, for they nodded their heads soon after. They moved quickly once more, straightening and placing their hands at their sides before moving around you and leaving into the halls behind you.

You sighed a breath of relief as they left, going to look back at Nikté in hopes for answers but you could not find her. You almost began to panic once more, swiftly turning your head around in hopes she’d still be near. And she was, right behind you on her way out behind the two frightening soldiers.

You called her name, hands softly grasping her shoulder and turning her to you.

“Ba'ax úuch?” What happened? You ask her.

Her eyes meet yours, that tense look still cast upon them. Though the softness she held whenever she looked at you was there, hidden beneath a thin mask of fear.

She grabs your arms, her fingers holding onto your flesh tightly as she stares into your soul. A fire blazed inside her large black eyes, the flame bright and clear as she spoke.

“Mante u salvo in reina.” Her words were no louder than the cool breeze around you. The words were sincere though spoken rather swiftly, a familiar air around them as they settled into your mind.

Reina. Reina.

“What?” You ask. Queen, she called you her queen. You were taken aback, she’d never called you that before. It was never so empty in this cave either. You’d never gone a day without her doing your hair in elaborate ways. Never seen those warriors here before. And no one had ever done that salute to you. It was all so strange, so out of the ordinary you had gotten used to.

A thousand and more questions ran through your mind. The feeling to ask and beg for answers filled your body, the amount of strangeness that suddenly appeared out of nowhere overwhelming you. You almost shook in the want to yell each question out, to demand answers at the sudden stir in this small cave.

But instead, you just stood there. Stunned at the words she spoke to you.

Stay safe my queen. Your brows furrowed together and you continued to gaze into your friends eyes. What does that even mean? Safe from what?

Nikté could see the confusion in your eyes. Her intense gaze softened, the corners of her arched brows coming down as she suddenly pulled her hands away from you.

She bowed, turning onto her heels and finally disappearing into the dark of the cave.

You stood still, the previous interactions you had just experienced running through your mind.

“I see that you have met Namora and Attuma.” A voice spoke behind you.

It seems as if today everyone decided to band against you. As if all those around you felt the need to frighten you by making no noise and suddenly coming up behind you. You swore your heart stopped as you heard him, swiftly spinning around to come face to face with the man that you had almost forgotten you were meant to meet. His soft eyes greeting yours.

“I-uh.” You stutter, “I suppose I have.” Uncertainty rang through your voice as you looked him up and down, taking him in.

His top was bare, toned chest and abs out for you to see. Tan skin that was complemented by the thick gold and blue necklace he wore. His cuffs shone in the cave light as he extended a hand for you to take. You had still been on the small stepping stones when he approached you. You grasped the hand that reached for you, intertwining your fingers together as he pulled you up onto the small rock of an island surrounded by the water.

It was not unusual to see him like this. In fact half of the time you saw him he was half naked. But still, you never stopped marveling at his sculpted body. The way his muscles tensed and how fluidly his body moved always astounded you. When he helped you up, he let out no grunt or whimper like other men would have. He made you seem weightless as you stepped near him, staring at the strong muscled hand that held your own.

He did that alot, touched you. It was never anything too drastic, no he’d never go that far. But small pats and holds were how he seemed to communicate when words couldn’t. And you’d embrace it. Each touch calming a blazing cold inside of you and warming your heart whenever his hand met your own skin.

“How did you sleep?” Namor suddenly asks, his gruff voice bringing you out of your thoughts.

You flush, cheeks growing hot as you look up and into his eyes. “Since when do you care about how I sleep?” You attempt to tease, desperately not wanting to make your embarrassment obvious.

“Am I not allowed to care?” He smirks, the whites of his teeth showing with a smile. A low chuckle leaves his chest as he does so. You can tell he knows your true feelings.

You try to feign annoyance, rolling your eyes at him and letting go of the hand that held yours. But the muscles of your cheeks get the best of you as a smile slips and paints your face.

“You’ve never asked before.” You respond. The smile on your face only grew and soon one appeared on his as well.

Giggles and chuckles escape from both of you. The small and fake argument clearly not going anywhere as you laugh. The previous embarrassment you had vanished, the warm familiarity of him sunk in at last.

“Well I am asking now.”

“I slept well“ You reply, a soft and sincere smile on your face.

“So uh-Why am I here exactly? All Nikté said was that you wanted to see me.” You finally ask after a few beats of silence. You had still wanted to ask many questions, and needed many answers. But you don’t think that now was the time to bombard him with them all. You ball your hands into fists, needing some way to hold in your anticipation. The tapping of your foot was heard throughout the cave, echoing softly off the rocky walls.

The small leftover smile on his face suddenly grew. The familiar fire of his eyes began to blaze as he stared back into your own eyes. The intense look made you shiver, intent burned brightly on the man before you.

“You and I are going to be taking a small trip.” He tells you in a chipper tone, stepping closer to where you stood.

“A trip?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

His smile only grows even more. He begins to come closer. Close enough that his chest is almost touching yours. The action makes you realize how cold you are, his warmth radiating off of him and onto your own skin. The cave was always cold, that was something that you had grown quite tired of as well. The use of thick blankets and long sleeved dresses while knowing it was summer in the world above didn’t sit quite right with you.

You may have also been accustomed to the fact he liked to hold you, but feeling it could never get old. His skin burned your own and you swore the heat could have left a scar. Why would you need the heat of the sun when you had him?Goosebumps cover you as he grabs your hands, softly caressing the tops of your palms with his thumbs.

The endearing look he had whenever he saw you finally returned. His intense brown eyes went soft once more, soothing the small bit of anxiety that you felt build in the pit of your belly.

He comes even closer, lips at your ear and chills run down your back as he breathes out two simple words,

“Three days.”

~~~~

The cabin was by no means large. Big enough for a small kitchen, bathroom, living area, and a small bedroom. It was what you would call cozy. Empty besides a few pieces of furniture that seemed to be made of pure and rich wood. The dark colors of the dimly lit room bled into each other as the sunlight poured through the thin curtains.

You felt disoriented. The plush pillows and blanket were a different material than to what you had gotten used to. Your arms and fingers stretched themselves out as you came to your senses and began feeling the fabric beneath you.

It felt like fleece as you gripped soft tufts of it. You were drooling, arms and neck sore as they once were earlier. Even when waking up with such comfort, your body managed to go against you.

You curled your head back, lifting it up with a light jump as you realized there was a small patch of light before you. Only it wasn’t blue. But a bright white with a yellowish hue.

You almost threw yourself off the bed you laid upon, rushing to the window. Legs giving out and falling onto your knees in such a haste, you crawled. Pulling back the feather light fabric of the curtain you opened your eyes fully to take in the world before you.

Tall grass and thick palm trees created a dense forest of green. Red and pink wildflowers scattered against the dirt floor as the baby blue sky brought a painfully bright light into your eyes. You squinted, grasping the wooden edge of the window sill and pulling yourself back up.

Real.

You tried to breathe. Gasping in and out as you took in your surroundings.

This was real.

Wood. It was wood that greated your bare feet and not the sharp rocky floors of the underwater cave. And it was a bed next to you. Made of foam and covered in thick blankets, ones you’re sure to have seen in your mothers closet. And your clothes. You were wearing the dress from your first night in México. The one he had found you in.

You pulled the thin white fabric on you, feeling it hug your skin as you tried to remember what had exactly happened.

When Namor had spoken those words, you knew what he meant. You remember lighting up in excitement and practically throwing yourself at him in thanks. The words also helped explain everything, why everyone had left, where everything was. Who those two warriors were.

He told you they were Namora and Attuma, his second and third in command. How they were to be in charge of his country while he stayed on the surface with you.

You remember that part vividly. The way his soft eyes looked at you when he saw how happy you were being told you were going to see the sun again. But you didn’t miss the slight pained and annoyed flash of his eyes when you told him how thankful you were to see your home again.

And Nikté’s words. You knew what they meant now. Or at least you think you did.

When you asked him how you would get to the surface, he hesitated to answer. He almost cringed when you did in fact. But you managed to get it out of him. He told you that you couldn’t be awake for it, that you needed to sleep. Namora told him they could not risk a human telling someone else about the location and route of how to get to that small cave. It looked as if it pained him to tell you that. Said he knew you would never.

But she was right, you were just a human. And she was the serpent gods’ second in command, so who were you to second guess her words. You didn’t feel insulted, but maybe you should have. Namor made you feel so special, treated you like an equal to him that you had actually almost forgotten you were simply human. A surface dweller.

You stretched your arms over your head, leaning back as tensed muscles popped and cracked with every motion you made. You continued to stare at the world outside, the disbelief and shock still rattled and echoed inside of you but a sense of calm settled as well.

You finally managed to breathe. Fresh air filled your lungs and you closed your eyes as the gentle heat of the sun soaked into your skin.

A wave of sleepiness began to wash over you again, yawning as you went to sit down. Until your stomach growled. Loud and aching you froze in your spot. Your cheeks flushed as you stared dumbfoundedly into the floor, standing still hoping that wherever Namor was, he hadn’t heard.

Right. You hadn’t eaten at all today.

You slowly turned, the floorboards squeaking and beneath you as you made your way to the door in front of you. Loud and creaking, you slowly tried to open it. Cringing as the noises rang throughout the cabin, you stepped out to see the rest of the space.

Air flowed through the cabin and blew the curtains in the wind. They danced as their glimmering and sheer fabric swayed to reveal a deep blue color in the distant skyline. Yellow and greens mixed into one as you suddenly began to hear the faint but still loud push and pull of waves.You moved to the window nearest to the door, rushing to the view.

The Ocean.

You could almost smell the bitter saltiness. Feel the way the sand felt in inbetween your fingers and toes. Your skin crawled as the never ending siren song of the sea rose into your ears, calling you closer to the water. And you suddenly forgot about your hunger.

Get to the water. Get to the water. Ran throughout your mind as you stared at the large blue streak upon the horizon.

You grab the flimsy door knob beside you, battling to open it in one swift motion as a strange sense of panic takes a hold of you. Your body was moving on its own, as if it were looking for something. For someone.

You almost ran out the door, getting ready to sprint and answer that far off call, wanting to rid that strange sense of longing that you hadn’t felt in weeks. Until you felt someone grab you. Strong hands pulled you back into the cabin by the waist, wrapping around you and warmth seeped into your back. Whatever trance you had been in, this feeling had taken you out of it.

Consciousness hit you like a truck again and the calling of the waves stopped. The loud song of the sea ended abruptly, as if it had never even been there. You became aware of where exactly you were and what you had almost done. As well as who was holding you.

“A el igual que le áanalte'o'.” A deep voice whispered behind you. The breath so close to your ear sent chills cascading down your back. You wriggled at the feeling.

“Are you okay?” The rumble of his chest shaking your body as his large hands pulled you in closer. You could blame it on the summer heat, or the fact that he was so warm, but your body became hot again. Too hot. Every inch of your body and nerve ending sparked in flame that he had surely lit himself.

“I-“ You begin, slowly looking down to see his tan hands around you. They were veiny, his fingers thick and strong, covered in small but once deep scars that even his healing powers could not mend back together. Looking at them, you swore you began to sweat.

“I’m alright.” You finally finished replying, slowly pushing him off of you. The warmth of his chest and the feel of his sculpted body parted from yours as you turned to look back at him.

Worry painted his face as he looked at you. He wanted to say something. You could tell by the twitching of his upper lip and the light biting of his bottom one. But he said nothing, only sighing before asking you if you were alright once again.

“What happened?”

The question sent ripples of uncertainty through you. Shit.

How were you to explain that that was normal? That the need to run to the water and dive into the waves was something he had to deal with for the next three days. You couldn’t even tell him where it came from. Why it happened. Of all the things you had told him in your time together, how could you not mention this?

You stared at him, knitting your brows as you tried to make some bullshit excuse to tell him.

“I just.. uh-“ You begin to stutter. Words fumbling and falling from your mouth before you even had time to process what you even wanted to say. But thankfully (or un-thankfully?), your stomach growled once more. It cut you off, the loud rumble shutting you up as your hands quickly placed themselves atop it. As if by doing so would muffle the loud noise of it. It may have saved you from explaining your previous actions, but it sure as hell was embarrassing.

Your cheeks flushed, going warm once more and you swore you’d eventually end up passing out from a heat stroke today.

“Hungry.” You half shouted at the man before you.

“Oh!” He simply said in response.

You screamed on the inside. Yelling at yourself to ‘stop being so weird!’ as you ground your teeth together and balled your hands into fists.

The whistle of the wind and gentle rustle of leaves took up the space between you two. Made up for the loud silence as you finally took your time to truly look at where you were.

The cabin rested utop a small hill, surrounded by an overhead of trees and native plants. There was a clearing in the distance. Large and wide enough for you to see the distant Ocean and the foam that rested upon its waves. There was a dirt path leading to it, overgrown with weeds and covered in rocks. You could almost see where the dirt and soil meet the sand, the transition of brown to a soft yellow beyond the curve of the elevation. It looked lonely here, or in other words, isolated. Far from any sign of society, or at least you assumed.

“Have you not eaten?” Namor questions you after a few moments of silence. His hand reached for you as he stepped a bit closer, hesitantly going to touch your shoulder.

You turn your head back to him, hands still on your stomach as you answer, “I wanted to see you first.”

His eyes widened a bit and you swore a sudden hint of red flashed upon his high cheeks. His lips parted slightly at your words, a soft gasp escaping him before he closed them not a second after and his hand retreated back to his side.

A beat of silence rang through the air. Neither of you said anything and you had almost started to regret your response. You could never tell with him. If what you had said was right or wrong. If you should apologize and tell him it was a joke. But the strange feeling inside you that called you to him knew you’d never said anything wrong. That you could never. Not with him.

"There is a small village nearby. There is no food here but I do not doubt there is some there." Namor begins to speak again. “Would you like to go?” His words are hesitant, almost laced in regret as he asked.

“I thought you didn’t like people seeing you..?” You ask while tilting your head, though your voice was anything but a murmur. Namor had expressed his dislike towards surface dwellers during the time you’ve met him. Always commenting and making snarky remarks about their ways. You would always remind him that you were one of them and he’d always say the same thing.

“It’s different with you.” He simply states. Using the same words he always did.

“Ah.” You hum in response. Nodding, you feel your cheeks heat once more and head begin to spin at the small comment. You truly believed he was going to be the death of you. “Alright.”

~~~

It wasn’t a tough hike. The thick bushes and branches brushed against your legs as you did your best to hold onto the bark of each tree you passed for support. The shorts you had chosen to wear rode up your thighs, leaving you uncomfortably trying to pull them back down with each step down the steep hill. You cursed at yourself for not choosing to stick with the dress.

‘I’ll chafe’ You remember thinking ‘I’ll sweat in pants.’ But right now that seemed like the better option.

After agreeing to go to the village, Namor informed you there were clothes in the cabin. Perfect fitting clothes of all kinds inside the tiny closet of the room you had previously woken up in. You wondered where he had gotten it, who had brought it.

“Change if you’d like.” He said. “It is a few miles away, unless you’d like to fly there.” There was a small smirk on his lips as he said it.

“In your dreams.” You scoffed, walking away as his loud laughs echoed off the greenery around the cabin.

Though you really should have paid more attention to what you had chosen— but your hunger had almost made half your brain stop working. Sweat dripped from your forehead and down the backs of your legs as you heaved, trying to catch your breath.

“God just how out of shape are you!” You internally screamed to yourself. You leaned up against a nearby tree, wiping the sweat off your brow. At this point, you could give less of a damn of where you were going, only when you were going to get there. Not a care in the world lingered in your mind as you fanned yourself with your hands.

You knew Mexico was hot. You remembered how badly you cried as a child when you stayed in your family’s rancho without air conditioning. But this. This was something you hadn’t prepared for. All those times as a little girl, you had done nothing besides lay on the cold floor for some kind of relief. Had gone anywhere to get away from the seeping hot walls of the cement house and the blazing rays of the sun.

It was just as bad even now, maybe even worse. The fact you hadn’t eaten, hadn’t drank water in nearly hours, and were now hiking through hot, sticky, and humid air, it almost made you want to beg Namor to fly you the last few feet to your destination.

Not even an hour above land — and you were already regretting it.

All those days in the cave, you missed the warmth of the land above. Wished to feel the kiss of the sun upon your skin and wondered why you ever hated it. But now, sitting there in the shade of a palm tree, you remembered exactly why.

“Are you alright?” Namor asks from beside you, appearing out of nowhere. This entire hike, he had stayed behind you. He simply followed, told you when to turn and to watch out where possible dangers were. His voice was laced with worry as he asks.

You eyed him, not moving your body or head as you continue to attempt to cool yourself down.“Guess.” You sigh, stretching your legs out. You throw your head back, groaning as the sole of your feet are no longer touching the rocky ground which caused sores and aches to appear, which made the hike worse. You had found a rock nearby, sighing in relief at the sight of it before going to sit down.

He lets out a breath of a laugh as he looks at you, shaking his head as he does so. “I am not around humans often, but I have never seen one look so out of place on land as you do.” He chuckles, his top lip curled far enough to touch the end tip of his septum piercing. The jade jewelry of his nose and ears shone in the small gleams of sunlight that made their way through the leaves, it was your first time seeing their true colors. They were a beautiful dark green with swirls of lighter hues, a bit transparent even with how thick they seemed to be. Actually, this is your first time seeing him in a natural light.

It wasn’t exactly him that you saw though. No. The Namor you knew was the King of Talokan. The feathered serpent God that wore regal clothes and jewelry. Constantly adorned by gold and clothes which made his intimidating aura more powerful. A man who had soldiers and warriors at his beck and call, someone more powerful than anything or anyone you previously knew.

But right now, looking at him in a loose button up and too tight pants, you almost wanted to giggle. The building irritation in which the heat caused started to slowly melt away at the sight of him trying to pull the itchy fabric from his thighs. The cowboy hat he wore on his head to cover his pointed ears flopped to one side, covering his eyes as he furrowed his brows, getting a bit mad at the fact it won’t stay in place.

Pure awe fills you as you look at him. Even as he was so obviously uncomfortable and awkward, he did it for you. He didn’t have to, you told him. But he had insisted on it. It may have been an act. A way for him to make sure you wouldn’t expose all those secrets he had shown you, but some part of you made you believe he just wanted to be near you. And you did too.

You continued to stare at him. Noticing that the few spots of skin that allowed the sun to kiss him through the leaves, you swore he glowed. His skin radiating light that clashed with that of the natural one of the sky.

You admired his slightly hooked nose, his side profile, something you adored about him. His high cheeks and the way his plump parted lips made butterflies well up inside of you, a small smile waking its way onto your own face.

“I’m not really built for land.” You say, finally having caught your breath. “You should see me swim though. My mother always called me half fish.” You chuckle at the memories.

“Really?” He sounded interested, curiosity ringing through the word he spoke.

“Mmhm.” You hum, “I don’t know why I love it so much though. Ever since I can remember, every time I was near water I’d have to jump into it. My skin would itch if I didn’t.” You explain, looking back up and to him.

He was looking at you too. Soft eyes meet yours and you feel your heart pound in your ears. He looked at you as if you were all that mattered, that existed. He was attentive, hearing every word and whisper you dared to breathe. It made you flush and look back at your feet. You studied the dirty shoes you wore, the way the creases stayed a clean white as the rest was caked in mud. You tried to do anything to get your mind off his gaze and back to what you wanted to tell him.

“I have this thing which she and my best friend would always teased me for.” You speak again after a few beats.

“What is it?”

You could trust him, right?

“It's common knowledge with everyone that I know, my love for the ocean and water. But onlymy mother knows I truly can’t help it.” You paused, finding the courage to look back at him. His face stayed the same. Those damned butterflies begun to whirl inside your stomach — and you fought so hard to resist the urge to look away again.

But you somehow didn’t. Didn't bat an eye or shy away as you finally told him.

“Earlier when I tried to run, I was running to the ocean. It’s strange- I know- but ever since I was a girl the waves were always so.. loud. They never left me alone, practically haunted me. Everyone only hears the sounds of water clashing against more water but not me, I’ve never been able to hear just that. I hear a song. There was always a voice, calling and beckoning me into the water.

“Come find me, Come find me’ It would constantly say to me. And each time I hear it I try. My body takes over and any rational thinking I had gets thrown out the window as I throw myself into the ocean. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, but I have a feeling that when I find it I’ll be whole. Complete. That the piece of me I feel to be missing will finally click into place, and I’ll get to be my true self. The person I am meant to be.” Overwhelming emotions swelled up inside your chest. As you spoke, your voice started to waver. Cracking slightly as you remembered the feeling of longing for something more. For something you need but could not find. You hardly talked about it, but doing so now, it hurt.

“The only time that I feel true to myself is when I am there, swimming in the waves as they embrace me. Each time I step and cross that place in which the land and sea meet, they greet me. ‘Welcome Home’ they say, until they finally quiet. And it really does feel like it—Home. I- I don’t even know what home feels like at this point but... Not a day has gone by when I didn’t hear that singing—begging me to go. No matter how tired I was or how hard I tried to resist, I would follow. Just to make it stop, to allow myself some peace. It’s exhausting” You let out a breathy chuckle at your last words. You could feel a lump in your throat build, along with the stinging of tears in the corners of your eyes.

Embarrassment filled you as you tried to calm your fast breathing, finally looking away from Namor and to the nearest lush green bush. Studying its complicated branches, trying to distract yourself from allowing those emotions from bubbling over and falling apart in front of him.

Though you suppose there was no harm in doing so, you had just told him your greatest pain in life. You didn’t know why or what it was about him that made you feel this way. That you could trust him with every secret you held close, share every heartache and scar left upon you, and believe he could help heal them.

“It’s uh… Silly I know,” You begin to speak again, trying to change the topic. The growing uncomfortable silence around you made your head spin and chest feel as if it was caving in as he said nothing. The air was thick again and the heat you had long forgotten had started to produce a thin layer of sweat upon your skin once more.

“It’s not.” Namor finally speaks. The words shook you, and you quickly jolted your head back to him.

His words were sincere. Sweet and tender. Not a hint of pity or annoyance coated his words as he said them.

The feelings you tried to fight off suddenly came back ten times stronger and you swore you could have dropped to your knees right there. Your eyes went wide as tears welled back into your eyes, slowly daring to fall from the edges of your lashes until the sound of distant laughing was heard.

You both quickly turned your heads to the direction of which they came. Down the steep dirt hill you currently rested utop. You hadn’t noticed before, the thick green around you made everything so dark and had the expanse of colors around you all blend into each, but you now saw the sand.

Golden sand that mixed with the brown dirt had fallen tree branches scattering across the edge of the steep slope and tiny green leaves that brought out its bright color. It was touched by the sun, the light reflecting off the tiny particles as it almost blinded you when you turned to look at it.

Sand. Which meant that you were near a beach, no, next to one. And that meant the ocean was there as well. But you hadn’t heard it. The song that always played in your mind wasn’t there, not even the distant sound of its beckoning call came to your ears. For however long you had been here, walking near it, you had not felt that shiver run down your spine. The sound of waves crashing upon the shore was all you heard in the moment you realized.

Fear, excitement, and anxiety coursed through your veins as you stood up. That was impossible, you could always feel the water from miles away so why..? You walked up to the small ledge, peering over as the sounds of laughter rang through your ears once more. Maybe you had accidentally mistaken the song of the sea for that, maybe it changed. But no, it had truly gone quiet.

You heard shouting in the voices of children blend into the crashing of the waves. Light and carefree voices that scolded and yelled something in spanish.

There were three of them. One laughing and two shouting. You could not see them, the overhang of the trees blocked you from seeing anything past the green of its leaves but you saw their shadows. They stretched long and wide across the expanse of the sand. You studied their movements as you saw one run away from the duo that stayed back.

“Sofia por favor!” A girl yelled, she sounded stressed.

“No!” The girl yelled back, in the shadows you saw her do a dance.

You giggled at it, a smile lifting your lips as you turned to look at Namor.

That tense and guarded look came back to him. His shoulders were squared and that kind gentle man from before had vanished.

Right, humans.

He had gone to the ledge with you, his firm grip held your forearm as you looked over, holding you so you didn’t fall. He hadn’t dared to lean as far as you had, his feet were flat on the steady ground as your own pointed downward to that land below.

You turned to face him, eyeing him as his jaw clenched and unclenched. Uncertainty painted his face as he furrowed his brows, no doubt wondering what to do now.

“Hey,” You start, reaching your own free hand out towards him, “It’s okay.” You had no idea if he would believe the words you said. But it felt right to say them.

His eyes drifted back to your face. Worry swelled in the dark of his irises as he kept darting them away. Back to you, back to those shadows.

Unconvinced.

You sighed and looked away from him again, back to where you had been looking before to see the children running now. Loud laughter echoed through the trees as you continued to smile at their acts.

“They’re just children.” You speak once more. “If anything, it’s a sign that the village you spoke of is near. Let’s just find it, grab some food, and get out of here. Yeah?” You looked back at him, trying your best to reassure him that whatever he was afraid of would not happen. You gave him a small smile as he turned his gaze back to you.

He still looked uneasy, but the grip of his hand loosened on your arm, pulling away as he nodded and looked off into the direction he knew where to go.

You went to move as well. Legs bending to pull yourself up the small ledge you managed to climb down to see the children better but that was a mistake. You didn't think to grab the small tree branch near you for leverage, thinking you could lift yourself up without its help. But you instantly began to wish you did as you felt the pit in your belly drop.

You practically went flying. Eyes widening as you saw Namor reaching for you, horror in his own as his hands went to catch you. But you were already falling, your back hitting the dirt hill as your knees buckled against the floor. You closed your eyes as tight as you could, biting your own tongue to let the scream you held in down. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to curl your knees to your chest, an attempt to protect your stomach and chest. You tumbled hard and fast down the steep hill but lucky for you, it was not too tall.

You landed on the sand within seconds, arms and legs flailing everywhere as your back finally hit the plush particles of the tiny rocks. You groaned as you arched your body, gasping for air as the fall left you winded.

You heard gasps, the call of that girls name again, and the growl of your stomach once more. Great. You felt the tiny cuts and bruises on your legs building already, pain seizing your body as the hunger you felt got worse.

The sun at last hit your skin entirely. The warmth of it embracing you as you lay on the burning hot floor, but you didn’t seem to care. Its kiss was different from the heat that seeped out from the shadows and air of the wood you had previously been walking in. This was kind, welcoming and gentle. Unlike the horrible wet and dry air that engulfed your entire body and made each crevice sweat.

Sweat pooled at your forehead as you tried to turn away from the blinding light in your eyes. You cursed, attempting to lift your head but the unfortunate effects of not eating had started to come into place. Your head began to ache instantly at the strained elevation you attempted, immediately throwing it back into the sand. You felt its grains scratch and poke into your head.

You thought the crunching you suddenly heard was of your head moving in pain. The grinding of your teeth almost clogged up your ears, blocking out sounds around you except for your silent groans of pain.

“Sofia!” The voices came back. This time they were angry, worried, utterly terrified. They repeated themselves, calling that name over and over. Growing more frantic by the second

Your eyes were still closed, unaware of your new surroundings and you wondered where you were, how close you were to the children, all as the sound of crunching sand grew louder, closer.

You risked opening them. But the light that hit your vision made you want to close them once more. Everything was white in its presence. It made your head ache even more, practically pounding at this point. But you couldn’t close them again. Can’t. You needed to see.

You lifted a hand, holding it up your brows as you tried to regain vision once more. Only this time you were not greeted by the blinding sun, but shade.

Shade that covered your entire top half. A shadow. You immediately looked up.

Wide eyes meant your own as you peered up into them.

It was a girl. Her long hair fell from her head into a curtain around her face, over your own as well. Her small pink lips parted as she stared at you. She wasn’t scared of you. You could tell by her face, amusement and curiosity painted her eyes as a timid smile began to form. Her body language could tell you that much as well. Her top half had tilted forward to see you, her waist slightly bent and you saw her brightly colored clothes. Bruised knees and scratches littered her tall skinny legs, colorful Hello Kitty bandaids hiding the cuts she had most likely gotten.

You couldn’t tell the color of her eyes, the slight blur from your lashes and the shadows kept you from truly seeing them, but something about them was so familiar. So warm and comforting, safe. As if you had peered into them before, and inside them was the place you called home.

You continued to stare at her, brows raising as you tried to slowly regain the strength that had been lost from your body. When you did, you planted your hands on your sides, before bracing yourself to lift your body up.

Her cheeks rose slightly, the curves of them going up and making her eyes smaller as she saw you slowly rise up. The girl suddenly runs to your side, reaching her hands out for you.

You stare at them. Small hands with different colored nail polish on each finger nail and more bandaids carefully wrapped around each. You look at her, and back to her hands, as if asking Are you sure?

Her smile brightens and she motions her hands towards herself, Yes. So you take them.

She’s small, but seemed to be tall for her age. Looked no older than 7. Her limbs were long, tanned and sun kissed and strong. You did your best to only take her hand to be kind, knowing that your own weight might be too much for her but to your surprise, she almost hauled you up on her own. It might have been because your own muscles were still not at their full force but she may have done all the work in helping you sit up right.

You sat there looking at her in shock, not able to find the words to thank the small thing. And you didn’t have to, for she spoke before you could.

“Te pareces a mi abuela.” She said. Her voice was so sweet. Full of childlike wonder. It reminded you of summers with your cousins, laughing for hours until your ribs and stomachs ached as the taste of candy and fruits lingered on your tongue. You recognized it from earlier, Sofia. Though she only said one word you could truly comprehend while inside the thick green, you could immediately tell it was her.

Your head shot up at that and you finally got a good look at her. Her clothes looked like ones you had owned as a child, the sandlas like those your favorite aunt always gifted you when you visited her home. Her eyes were hazel, hair a light brown that shimmered in the sun which almost made it look blonde as its loose curls flowed down her shoulders.

You blinked and swore you had seen this child before. Something inside you knew her, seen her before.

“Que?” You asked, your voice rough and dry. It almost pained you to talk, the force of your bite during the fall hurting your tongue. The dehydration had gotten to you in the few minutes you’d been here beneath the sun. This strange yet familiar child just told you that you remind her of her grandma. What were you supposed to say now?

“Que te pareces a mi abuela!” She says a bit louder, sounding out her words for you. Her lip curled up even higher, giggles escaping her as she shook with her laughter. “La quieres conocer?”

Your mouth opens in shock, brows rising and eyes widen at the words she had told you. You don’t know this girl, she doesn’t know you. She hasn’t introduced herself, you haven’t told her your name. Shit, you had just fallen out from the trees after watching her and her friends play in the sand.

You really should deny it— deny her request and go back to find Namor. Go back up that hill and look for that village with him like you had originally planned. But your stomach growled, no, roared , speaking and answering her question for you.

The sudden pain caused you to take both hands to your stomach, rubbing your belly in hopes to settle that pain and embarrassment as you felt your cheeks flush. Sofia laughs, giggles as she throws her head back while you sigh and frown.

You look down at your legs, covered in small pebbles and scratches from that fall, and then behind you. At those tall trees and bushes full of wildflowers. Maybe Namor was still there, maybe he was trying to get to you. But the children… Sofia approached you, began to talk and help you. It would be even stranger if a man came running after you, a stranger who fell from the shadows and into the sun.

If anything, Namor could follow, watch you go to the village and meet you there. Find you and take you back after you found food. He wouldn’t be far, he’d be close, but that was only if he had not gone by now. You aren’t exactly sure how well he knew you, or how well you knew him, but you hoped he knew you’d never leave him alone, not by choice. And you prayed he wouldn’t leave you.

You tried to tell him something, calling out to him with your heart and soul as if he could hear you. Like there was an invisible string between the two of you as you said, Follow me, Stay close.

You looked into those trees waiting for a response, in the direction you felt he was— where he should be. The anxiety you felt grew and grew, building up and up with each second that passed. You began to feel silly. Stupid for believing he might actually hear you through some figment of your imagination. You sighed, getting ready to turn down the young childs offer and go back to him.

Until you saw the rustle of leaves, and felt a gentle caress inside your heart.

It’s okay, I’m here. You swore you felt the words come to you. You heard them in his voice, loudly and clearly as if he were there with you. Your heart swelled at the response. Joy running through you at the fact that the answer felt so real.

You looked back at Sofia and finally sighed, letting out the breathe you held, brushing off the dirt from your legs and finally getting up. Though your knees still wobbly and slightly aching, you managed to stand on your own.

She held out her hand towards you. Small and slender, full of bandaids and small grains of sand. Her bright eyes and welcoming smile looked up at you with pure joy and happiness.

You didn’t hesitate grasp it. Then you began to walk with her. Away into the blinding sun.

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Thank you for reading <\3!! Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly!!

A/n: I never like my endings i feel like theyre bad. But anyways yall could probably tell where i almost gave up here LMAO 💀

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta fanfiction #tenoch x reader #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #namor fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #fan fic writing #x reader #x reader fic #namor x reader #namor fic #namor fanfic #namor x y/n #namor imagine #my writing #mcu namor fanfiction #Mi Amor series #latina reader #x latina reader #x female reader #namor x female reader #☾☼mims writes

[larathia]

I think there is probably intended to be a direct correlation between the strength of a BSD character's ability, and the power of their writing.

As an example, I got to thinking about Dazai's power to nullify the abilities of others. And there's no real reason he should be able to nullify ANY other ability. That he should be able to nullify even powers as great as Chuuya's. Not laid out within the BSD-verse itself, anyway.

But then I thought, no, there is. Because poetery (such as RL Chuuya wrote) often doesn't translate well. It's hard to see the power and beauty of a poem without being able to read and understand the language it's written in. That limits it.

But No Longer Human is not limited. I've gotten several people into reading Bungo Stray Dogs (or watch the anime). And it's a normal enough progression that you read/watch and then you get curious about the works and I always warn my friends to read NLH during the day, ideally a nice day, maybe have a beloved pet on hand, and really really practice the self-care. Because it's a good book, but it will suck all the light and joy out of your world for a while. That's what it's meant to do - it's meant to make you feel the bleak empty despair of the narrator. It's meant to make you feel what it's like to be so alienated from the human race that you feel like a separate species. And even reading a translation of the work can have that effect.

Dazai's power in BSD is the power of the book RL Dazai wrote. The ability literally kills the magic in the world. All the magic. In-series, it is Dazai's power to, briefly, while he's in contact with someone, to pull them from their world of life and magic into a world with neither.

I think the only reason Dazai's power in the series is unparalleled is that we haven't encountered Friedrich Nietzshe yet.

#bsd analysis #bungou stray dogs

[onceler12]

Introduction post!

I drew myself using my actual photo as reference so trust me, this is very accurate to how I'm looking irl. I'm also showing you my photo in this outfit (not this one used for reference) which is showing me and my pillow! On second photo is me and my guitar and I noticed that in movie is similar frame so I made comparison. I hope you like it!

As for introduction at first I should say that I'm 19 yrs old (20 on 1st October) and I'm extremaly similar to Once-ler, we have same personality and interests and this is very problematic to me because people are often thinking that I'm roleplaying when I'm just being myself so you should remember that this isn't roleplay and I'm desciribing my actual self!

So when you know it then ofc I want show you few examples of those similarities. First, I'm very interested in business, I have many ideas for my own businesses even if they are just dreams. I can be very passionate about that and talk so much about it. By example I was writing speech of opening of Thneed factory even if this business is just a dream but I'm just too passionate so I can't let my energy get wasted and I remaked lyrics to song ,,Everybody needs a Thneed" - I mostly changed uses and I done it because I love that business so I was thinking that maybe I should try make few Thneeds in real life and I sewn one but that was Thneed from random material for practice so it's not so good but it have shape just like in movie and I didn't saw any so-called Thneed in this shape before because indeed this shape is very difficult so probably I'm the first who actually did it.

Currently I'm struggling to find better material but when I would find it, I hope that I can make Thneed that is very close to this movie one! Also I'm very good at defending deforestation and telling why it's not that bad and telling about how business in movie could not get bankrupt even after cutting whole forest! I'm also aware than my mindset it's unique and that I can show others different perspective on those things.

I also very good at making pancakes and I'm eating them with marhsmallows and it was my idea because I know that's not common mix and I made it by myself (btw on one photo here there is small picture in photo frame in background which is me with plate of pancakes so you have proof) and baking - mostly cupcakes. I like drawing, writing books and I even wrote few poems but the most I like writing about things I'm passionate about. I love music and I'm learning to play on electric guitar but I can't play on it yet. I also love cats, I have three of them.

I really like movie ,,The Lorax" but when I would making it then of course I would make Thneed business better and bigger and it wouldn't get bankrupt! I also have some ideas of another companies which are involving Truffula trees and obviously there would be more scenes with Once-ler because he deserve it. Anyways this movie isn't making sense very often but this is environmental propaganda so what do you expecting? Like what's wrong with destroying just one forest? I have arguments that even shows Lorax as the villain (this is some example of my unique mindset because no way that I'd say that chopping trees is bad so I'm taking serious when defending this business) but I won't write my arguments here because I already wrote too much and I don't want to bore you (but when you are in fandom then you probably want to hear about it..?) so that's all for now!

If you are interested in meeting person like me and if you want to talk about business, Thneeds or something else related to movie then don't hesitate to interact with me, I'd be happy to met Once-ler fans!

#lorax 2012 #onceler #greedler #once-ler #lorax #the onceler #the lorax #onceler fandom #onceler 2012 #onceler cosplay #how bad can i be #art #onceler fanart #fanart #oncie #lorax fanart #lorax fandom

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

hey) I'm reading a bukowski (aka harry's favourite poet is I remember correctly?) poetry collection right now and I was wondering if we as a fandom knew that because I wasn't here when the album came out so I might have missed people talking about it? so I saw he has a poem called bluebird (which is already 🤔), but then I read it and and omg he's talking about a "bluebird" living inside him and him not letting this "bluebird" out because it would ruin his career!!! (I don't have the book at hand right now sorry you should read it yourself probably my memory is shit) harry would definitely connect to it, wouldn't he, see his situation with glass closet in it and maybe that's what he's referencing when talking about a bluebird?

hey babe!! yeah we have been dabbling in bukowski, or at least i have (esp in my only angel post, a song that features bukowski writing at the beginning). i know for sure that not nearly every reference has been unearthed. i don't think it's possible to get them all tbh. i'm not an avid poetry reader, but i have to admit i like bukowski's poetry from time to time. this one, bluebird, was brought to my attention after harry's house! you can read a post here but it's just us screaming into the void jhsgfd. but now that you've sent this to me and i'm bored at work i figured i'd dive a little deeper.

There's a bluebird in my heart that Wants to get out but I'm too tough for him I say, stay in there, I'm not going To let anybody see you There's a bluebird in my heart that Wants to get out But I pour whiskey on him and inhale Cigarette smoke And the whores and the bartenders And the grocery clerks never know that He's in there

'bluebird', unclear as to what that means to the poet. but it's soft <> tough. ～"somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly," from the wizard of oz / "if i was a bluebird, i would fly to you," daylight. strong associations with the queer identity // a desire to fly away: sott, if i could fly, matilda, etc.

this paragraph is so hs1 to me. drinking, smoking, getting high, having sex, anything to think about what's truly inside of you. then i can't help but think about fine line's "we'll get the drinks in, so i get to thinking of her" where it's the other way around.

the bluebird is also real to bukowski, he's undeniably inside of him, he doesn't try to disprove that. he just hides him by keeping up a different persona, by having a hardened outer shell. // harry and his image

'i'm too tough for him' implies that it's his own choice to keep his bluebird hidden

There's a bluebird in my heart that Wants to get out but I'm too tough for him I say, Stay down, do you want to mess Me up? You want to screw up the Works? You want to blow my book sales in Europe? There's a bluebird in my heart that

the implication that if you show your true inner self, you don't sell as well. what secret about you could possibly fuck over your career? - brings the hiding of the bluebird in a new light, since this is an external motivation to change who you are

～"what if i'm down, what if i'm out? what if i'm someone you won't talk about?", falling

～"put a price on emotion, i'm looking for something to buy. you've got my devotion, but man i can hate you sometimes," fine line

～"i'm not going to get lost, i'm not going to go broke, staying cool," mfasr

Wants to get out But I'm too clever, I only let him out At night sometimes when everybody's asleep I say, I know that you're there So don't be sad Then I put him back But he's singing a little In there, I haven't quite let him die And we sleep together like that With our secret pact And it's nice enough to make a man Weep, but I don't weep, do You?

this reminds me of harry saying he feels most beautiful when he's asleep.

～"just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times"

it just fits so much of harry's art, where he pretends to be someone he's not and tries to come to terms with how people see him or how he sees himself. bukowski spent a lot of his career struggling with who he was, and same goes for harry. even though he's clearly in a more accepting era, he still battles with that split in his life - public and private.

i also think the poem's ending can be seen in a more positive light, as the poet taking control of his life and his privacy. he determines what others see of him. in this layered poem, where the poet makes it seem like he's acting of his own volition by keeping his bluebird tucked away from view, but actually lets it be known that he kind of has to, the issue of one's identity in the industry is prodded at. i think for harry, in a life where he has very little control anyway, his decision to put a giant lock on his private life is about the only one he could make. he probably could still have a personal instagram or twitter acc if he wanted to, showing non-descriptive holiday pics or whatever. he chooses not to, and this is only in recent years that he's begun to be more and more secretive. because maybe it's either all or nothing to him. either the cage is shut or the bluebird flies free

#bluebird #kind anon #lyric analysis #not really but oh well #bukowski #daylight #harry's image #thank you anon! #much appreciate the chance to use my brain once in a while

[toushindai]

Life-Sized Blogging

toushindai / 30s / cis female (she/her/hers)

A known bisexual. Administrative coordinator by day. Writer also by day. Asleep by night, unless something’s gone terribly wrong. Autistic, at all hours.

My special interests take the form of serial fandom obsessions. It’s currently and very narrowly whatever the fuck Rauru and Ganondorf have going on in Tears of the Kingdom right now. If you followed me for (counts backwards on fingers) Hades, Transistor, Baccano!, Soul Eater, or any other fandom I don’t post about anymore, sorry about that. I do not have any control over the direction of the special interest.

I write a lot of fanfiction, specializing--I may as well cop to this, I think it's been the case since I was in college--in what we'll call eroticized power dynamics. You can find me on AO3. You'll also find me occasionally peddling my wares on my nsfw twitter. My main twitter, wallofillusion, should be considered defunct at this point.

Below the cut, I'd like to highlight a few of the fics or fic series that I'm proudest of for each fandom.

Tears of the Kingdom

Questions of Kingship: Two PWP one-shots followed by a multichapter plotted work. Elements of dubcon and noncon throughout. Recommended if you like made-up politics, think TOTK maybe should have thought a little harder about the implications of its made-up politics, or just want to see two horrible men who hate each other fuck about it.

Following Ganondorf's oath of fealty to Hyrule, Rauru "invites" the Gerudo chief to stay at Hyrule Castle while Gerudo's subsumption into Hyrule is negotiated. It's a strategic action; Rauru does need to keep an eye on him. But his frustration with Ganondorf's false humility hides a desire that even he is not comfortable with, and Ganondorf has his own plans for the self-styled king of Hyrule.

Hades

Hello it is I a megzag main. reach out and grasp will be your best starting point. It focuses on Megaera's friendship with Thanatos and how it is affected by her (and Thanatos's) relationship with Zagreus. This series is available as a pay-what-you-want e-book at itch.io. From there, feel free to branch out; there is a lot of porn here and some things that are not porn. A further guide to my Hades fic can be found here.

Transistor

Not so much of the power dynamics in this fandom but I love Red/Boxer so much. I am not immune to a sword with a gentle voice. Here's the two of the on the verge of becoming a couple; here's what was as far as I can tell the first Red/Boxer smut on the entire internet even though I showed up three years late. Here is a post-game fic in which they finally must discuss the final act of the game.

Baccano!

Maskmaker trio my beloved. I've written over 100k across two separate "Monica is alive" AUs and my sole comfort is that I could never be as obsessed with this thought as Huey is.

Mad Religion is a one of my masterworks: set in the 2001 of an AU where Monica never died, Huey and Monica stumble upon a branch of SAMPLE only to discover that Elmer has already stumbled upon the cult on his own and is trying to make their sacrifice smile. Because that's what he's for--isn't it? If you like writing dealing with unnamed religious trauma, this one is for you.

Other than that--wow I cannot even begin to summarize my work in this fandom. Here's Ronny and Maiza getting to know each other in 1711. Here's Huey being the worst father imaginable to Liza. Here's a lil tone poem of Huey thinking on Monica and Elmer in the 1930s. Conversely here is Fermet leaning real hard on Huey's boundaries. There's more out there, my friends, but it's so scattered. I'm not even mentioning Ronny/Lucrezia here.

Soul Eater

Hello it is I a Medusa/Stein main. And also a "Stein's relationship with Lord Death/authority" main (I was working through some things at the time).

What it Means to Lose Control: When Stein has to give up control in order to fight, some are more than willing to step in and claim it from him. A Medusa/Stein divergent AU. I turned this into an e-book, with some side stories included; you can get that here (mobi | epub)

A God without an Ego: An examination of the relationship between Stein and Lord Death—where it works and where it falls apart. Looks like I never put this one on AO3... well, I'm not linking each piece individually on ff.n. The best way to read these ones is on e-book (mobi | epub)

Prior fandoms

If you want to go further back than "the tail end of my college years" godspeed and for god's sake please don't tell me about it. WallofIllusion on ff.n, you'll find some The World Ends With You, some Ace Attorney (original trio), some Death Note, and some Yu-Gi-Oh!. Also more Soul Eater than I transferred over to AO3.

#fanfiction #tou and her liveblogged life #tou wrote a thing

[renaroundarosie]

Was It Over Then? (Is It Over Now?)

We need more Mello content so I spat this out guys sorry. Let me know if I should continue?

September 24th, 2005

Lorelai Grundel wrote in her diary. She sat in the Bar of her Apartment Complex trying to figure out something to write down before her therapy appointment. She didn’t like writing very much, she was always better at numbers. Doctor Lambardi told her she could use it to write down anything she wanted. 

Doctor Lambardi clicked her pen once…twice…three times before she said, “Ms. Grundel, if you aren’t going to say anything I’m going to have to ask you to communicate with me in another way.” 

     Lorelai furrowed her eyebrows, “How so?” 

“Well you could always draw how you feel?” Lorelai made a questioning face while Doctor Lambardi continued, “I didn’t think so, how about this…” 

      She stood and pulled a journal out of her desk drawer and handed it to her. “You could write. It is obvious you do not wish to speak about what happened and I’d hate to have to sit here in silence once a week. Write whatever you want in it, how you feel, poems, song lyrics; hell you could even write your grocery list in here. Just something, anything to help me help you. Can you do that Lorelai?” 

Funnily enough, she had agreed and that's why she's at a bar with a notebook in hand. 

It’s not like she didn’t say anything during her therapy appointments on purpose. She just couldn't get out what she had to get out. Every time she tried to talk about what happened, nothing came out. The journal method seemed to be working better compared to the previous meetings. From just two entries her Therapist was able to discover that, since the incident, Lorelai went out once a month and saw her family even less. 

Lorelai was about to write another to-do list when someone sat two seats down from her. A man with sunglasses and blonde hair threw himself into the seat and ordered a drink she didn’t catch. He didn't seem to notice her there because he continued to talk on his phone. 

“Just make the deal Tony, I want it done by 6.” He hung up the phone and glanced her way. “Can I help you with something?” 

“No.” She said dryly before turning back to her notebook.

He turned to face her a little and took a sip from his drink, “You a writer?” he asked.

    At first she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she glanced down at the open notebook and her disheveled hair that she had been tugging on the entire time she was sat there. “Oh. No this is something else, I’m much more of a math person.” 

He nods before turning back to his drink. She took this as an opportunity to study him. He wore a leather jacket and trousers. He had blonde hair to his shoulders and was wearing sunglasses. She guessed the sunglasses were an attempt to cover the obvious scar on his face. Or maybe to hide his identity. 

She couldn’t help herself from asking, “Do you live in this building?” 

         He smirks before picking up his now empty drink and shaking the ice around, “Who wants to know?” 

Unimpressed, she sighs and rolls her eyes. Staring at the empty journal in front of her she starts to panic. Why couldn’t she write anything down? She had so much to think about. So much to say and there isn’t one word she could use to begin to describe it. In frustration she slams the book shut and stands from her seat. 

She hears laughter, “Whoa,” the blonde laughs out, “What's the matter with you?” 

Lorelai shoves in her chair before saying, “Stuff it Blondy.” And leaving him at the bar. 

__

“I feel like we’re moving backwards with these meetings, Lorelai. Which I didn’t think was possible, but here we are.” 

Lorelai did feel bad. It’s not like she was doing this out of some vendetta against Doctor Lombardi. She just couldn’t think of anything at all to write. 

“Here’s what I think we should do.” She adjusts her glasses, “I think you need to reconnect with the world again. Go to a bar–a real one–meet a friend for some drinks, something to get you out of your apartment.” 

The Brunette scoffed, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t have that many friends.” 

      “You don’t talk to Paisley, from University?” 

      “I do, but–”

      “I know this isn’t what you want. Especially right now but I really think this will help you. It’s one night, why don’t you just try it?

—

Paisley Tomphson was a blonde, energetic girl who had majored in Finance. She and Lorelai met in their sophomore year of school at Columbia. Unbeknownst to Lorelai, Paisley had missed her dearly. She never knew why the girl stopped reaching out to her after they had graduated. 

Of course Paisley hadn’t known what happened to her. So Lorelai sat on her couch in her place staring at her phone. For some reason she just couldn’t pick it up. Fifteen minutes had passed before she finally thought what the hell.

“Hey Stranger!” The sweet sound of Paisley's voice rang in her ears.

“Hey How’ve you been?” It came out a lot drier than how she had wanted it to but it was better than her first thought which was to hang up. 

“I’ve been good, I missed you though. I haven’t spoken to you in three months.” 

“I know, I’m sorry time got away from me.” 

“Yeah it did. It’s ok I’ve been busy too, I moved back home for two months.” 

      Another thing that Lorelai had liked about Paisley was that she was very low maintenance. They each had their own lives and things to deal with and they both respected that. “You still in New York?”

“Yeah. I was actually thinking about meeting up for drinks? Maybe tomorrow?” 

“There’s nothing I’d want more. I’ll meet you at your place at 8 tomorrow.” 

Lorelai sighed, “I’ll be here.”

#mello

#mello death note #mello x reader #Mihael kheel #death note #death note x reader #mello

[cordeliaflyte]

dreamt i met a tumblr mutual (not anyone specific. i was just aware, throughout the dream, that we were mutuals on tumblr). she had amazing taste but she was also very bitter and ironic and spent SO much money. first we went to a stationery shop where she had her very own locker, and she showed me (but wouldn't let me touch) this thing she called a book, which she would only touch with gloves on. it was a tube-shaped velvet container with details added to make it resemble a castle. each turret could be unclasped, and contained within a painstakingly handwritten manuscript of one of her favourite books or longform poems. when you unravelled the whole thing, it was a pencil case with the highest quality writing supplies imaginable. everything in the shop was super expensive but i felt silly not buying anything, so I just got a pretty bookmark. the girl was like oh you should buy this as well it's my favourite book :3 the book was blue and written by some woman called Edith. I was like it's a book how much can it cost. Well reader it cost £100 and came with a fountain pen and notebook and many other things that would justify it being more expensive than a regular book, but not £100. So I was like um maybe next time. Then we went to what is in real life a hot chocolate shop, but in my dream it was an ice cream shop with very unexpected flavours. I chose two immediately but after I told the person at the till what the first one was, the second one disappeared immediately and this upset me tremendously. I was like noooo my flavour literally disappeared. Can you give me something in recompense. So they gave me a shot of strawberry 🍓 vodka which the other girl proceeded to drink for me

#d

[distant--shadow]

get to know meme

lil thing where I'll give a bit too much detail so it fills its purpose, honoured honestly to be tagged by three of my favourite writers in this space @sharkodactyl, @unicyclehippo , and @astoriacolumnstaircase - anyone reading this should be reading their works instead.

favourite colour: brown(s), like a mid to a dark tone, i like them to have a bit of red involved. like our old-boy chet, I love the wood. my dream home would be all wood-panelled with built in inlayed and set back shelves and nooks a plenty and yeah just full of brik-a-brak. otherwise my favourite colours are navy blue and greens that are more mixed with blue than yellow, teals and emeralds and once again generally around the mid tones. green makes me very happy. moss and outdoors and all that.

currently reading: fic. haha. (suss my recommend reading tag) I did venture out to my (very) local queer bookshop and asked them for something that won't send me on a spiral if I'm already on one/provide some escapism and they reccomended river of teeth by Sarah gailey. anyone I've said about it to seems real enthusiastic about it, I am not well read at all when it comes to published things, tend to just get really into a few fandom authors works and picking them apart (rereading a lot) . still haven't started it but maybe I'll try take it out to the park in the next week or so. I'm dabbling in reading (and unfortunately writing) poetry thanks to @picturesofthegoneworlds and @blorbotomy 's influence, those mini books are fun to keep on you when out and about, poem or two on a tree stump or boulder with a grand vista and a brain that wants eyes on a phone screen.

last song: last song I consciously (not background music) listened to was:

I went on an early lord snow stint the other night because the air smelt crisp and there was a nice chill. they have remained my favourite heavy (as a broad term) band for a decade now.

I used to have music on all of the time, whether that be cd's at home or in my mp3 player (that I still take out with me) but these days I find listening more of an intentional activity and I prefer to have people just nattering when I'm at home and want background noise. think it's where my heads at and I've just got more sensitive to being overstimulated I guess. I was also pretty good at going to a live gig at least once a week before I did my back in, looking forward to getting into that habit again.

last series: I don't watch much stuff outside of critical role, least other than YouTube videos I'll put on whislt I'm drawing. oh wait yeah I ordered 3 seasons of xena on ebay because it's like a couple of quid a season and it is a real good comfort show and fucking amazing. I hadn't seen it since I was pre teen and it was on day time TV and I'd catch it on sick days. the amount of people I've brought it up to these past few months who've been so stoked to be reminded of it/eager to watch it with me is actually hilarious.

last movie: uhhhh God movies I watch even less. I haven't been to a cinema in over 12 years now, just not my thing, and it's funny caus my mum used to work in the film and TV industry and we had shelves and shelves full of VHS growing up (mostly bootlegged) and she can just ramble about pretty much any early era film up to the stuff from the 80s (when she was working on em) for days. never could sit through em, never felt satisfied with how the story went. guess that's why actual play appeals to me. but saying all this I did rewatch Bound for the first time since I was like 15 last month or so, enjoyed it a lot more than I did back then.

sweet/savory/spicy: savory all day. I am a salt fiend. I used to think I'd be fortunate enough to die from my salt intake. I'll put it on anything. cereal, toast, fruit. I think the other day I noted the one thing I wouldn't put it on, but I can't recall that right now honestly. it's gotta be decent salt too, sea salt or rock salt that has some texture and delicious flavour, I'm not fucking with that table salt shit. I carry salt with me in a mini mason jar everywhere I go, saves when you only have access to bland cold supermarket food. one of my earliest memories is when I was like 6 I had had my daily 1 glass allowance of squash/fruit cordial in my white Tom and Jerry printed beaker with the accordion bendy straw and so when I was pouring myself a glass of water from the tap I put salt in it caus I wanted flavour that would not show through the white translucent container. it's all been downhill from there, although I also, luckily I guess caus otherwise I would be really fucked, do drink a lot of water.

currently working on: myself and healing. hah. I never realised how much paperwork and phone calls came with this maintenance shit. I'm still out of work, and my mental health has taken a huge hit from not being able to do the things I usually would. so right now I'm just trying to keep everything together. I can draw again though, so sorry about that.

I never know who to tag in these things caus I don't think everyone wants to do them. so I'll go with this being open invite as always. hope anyone who read this far is having a good week, and sentiment is still there even if you didn't read this (unless you don't deserve my well wishes, then fuck you.)

#Youtube

[eulalized]

time passes.

kazuha finds himself writing in his notebook. he scribbles the words: i don’t deserve you. how are you real? he’s smiling as he writes it down. is it because he’s thinking of you? maybe he’ll even sketch a rough draft for a poem for you later. he wonders how you’d react if he’d show it to you. and he discovers the vocable for you are my fate to be clouding his mind, enough to even memorize it—just as he’d possibly write an envoi for it at the end.

time passes.

when kazuha says “i love you,” the words were his own. no, words are not enough. they couldn’t describe what he was feeling. instead—if he were a book and met you, the words would come out of the pages, for you had rendered him speechless. his feelings to describe you still lingers, even from when he met you. he has a lot to say, although no way of saying it. perhaps there is a better way; is it okay if he can believe in eternity? because what else should he do better? kazuha can only love you better.

time passes.

it’s hard seeing you like this, kazuha believes. seeing you become a stranger where he once saw his future in. your arms. the warm and comfortable hugs. the home he once had. it all flew away. he is left with no words. he can say nothing. but he could wait an eternity, if it meant he could be with you. he could, and he does. there is doubt that lies within, but still everyone has a place to return to.

now there is no more time left.

#love you better — the haunt #kinda. you know. #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha kaedehara #genshin kaedahara kazuha #genshin impact #genshin drabbles #lzd.drabbles #inspired by the vegetarian. sighs feeling Empty #anyway i should be posting another thing soon since i cant deal with angst. smiley face #genshin

[jocrude]

THE EGG IN THE BELL JAR

A POEM I WROTE TO REFLECT UPON MY YEAR

It's such a strange state of mind. In that hang time between Christmas Eve and New Years, as every year draws to a close, drawing to a crawl sometime after the anniversary comes around of the day that I was born in late October after 9/11 to a world that mightn't yet have realised just how it was going to change, in that hang time between Christmas Eve and New Year's Day I ask myself, well, how did I get here? And just where am I going, and why?

As a trans woman who mostly still presents male, as a Marxist who's not yet done more than read the books and change the way they think, as a nascent little philosopher reading, page by page line by line when I can be bothered to read Schopenhauer or Zappfe or Leopardi, those pessimists who thunk themselves into corners, figuring it all out and using too many words to say that it's really not very good but can't even have the distinction of saying it's all pointless. As a nascent artist figuring it all out and learning the trades who's so long struggled with creative block, as a victim of mental illness and physical illness and chronic pain and complex trauma, who can't decide whether her first brush with death should be marked as the fever as a baby that she barely survived or the first time her brother picked up a weapon in his violence acted out upon her or that time a few years after Mum (we were so very close) vomited up her blood and died that she wrestled there for months in the bed she'd slept with mother in for far beyond her childhood years and thought up a plan and decided that suicide really WOULD be the better option and saw the headlights of the car upon her at night cutting the dark until she could feel them and then walked home. As after all this still a lonely bastard. I ask myself again.

It's going to get worse. Mostly things beyond your control, but some things you choose to do and the path you choose to follow, walking a line across the knife's edge the hard way when the precipice is just right there on each side and you can see your destination drawing up to a point beneath you as you walk. I'm mentally strong enough that through all the things I've been through that everyone from the past doesn't matter and that no one in that falesly imagined cruelly imagined cruelly inflicted but cruelly real future gives a damn about if I won't pay them therapist's wages or wages paid in art and clever words that most won't read. I'm mentally strong enough that after all that I keep choosing to take the path of most resistance. Even past the point when I can't get the drugs to numb myself anymore. Why is my brain strong enough now to keep ticking? To not learn its limits? To endure all the things that it does to itself? And why is it weak enough to do those things in the first place?

It's such a strange state of mind. Such a strange state of affairs. In some writing I did previously, I can't remember the context, I keep having the vision of an egg inside a bell jar.

You're a mad inventor, or a sorceror, an alchemist. You've ingeniously found a way to put all the energies of an explosion within an eggshell. Of course, this miracle can only exist in that state for an instant before the shell can no longer contain it and it breaks and blows you and maybe whoever is around apart. So you put it in an ingenious little bell jar, worked up from thin glass. The bell jar stops time, like someone has paused a video and gotten up off the couch to wander out the door distracted, and time goes on in space all around it. Anything just slightly too careless or cruel, you worry, could shatter this marvellous assembly to pieces and the rest of the world would only see the violence. See a mad sorceror, a mad man in a dress, who was silly and learned through all his life silliness and should've known better but now is gone, and some will say what a shame and maybe some will say good riddance. But anyways The World, seeing only the violence, and being well accustomed to violence and energy far greater than that little spark which is all that you can muster up and scratch together, well it just turns its head to the past and moves on. You are left with this miracle, just this explosion within an egg inside a bell jar, and so you put it away so care-full, on a pillow, with the other little kitsches in your cabinet. In your drawer by the pillow where you rest your tired head, and until you fall asleep, restless, to face the sun again you ask Yourself,

Well,

Why?

And then you write a little in your diary and you shut your eyes again.

#poem #new years #reflection #mental illness #coping #art

[aquarda]

“Being the “keeper of the truth” is a very hard job and one I would not want. Ray Manzarek is basically a nice guy but I think he must have a very bad memory. And sometimes he acts like he hates anyone that was a friend of Jim. Most of what he wrote in his book and what he says in interviews about me and Babe Hill are far from the truth. I won't call his statements lies; let's just say that his memory is dysfunctional. We all know that Ray stretches and changes reality to suit his own purposes. Let me state this accurately: Jim Morrison was a fantastic human being and an incredible creative artist, but not for the reasons Ray says. Jim's myth and legend do not need the manipulation of Ray or Danny Sugerman. Jim left us with poems and songs and films and writings that establish him as one of the 20th century's most creative inhabitants. Jim doesn't need Ray to pump him up into a steroid monster myth. Actually Ray is doing himself and the Doors damage by not citing Jim's real accomplishments. Ray should stop trying to make Jim the bad boy of rock, stop trying to show how he was the embodiment of Dionysus (com'on Ray, the Greek god metaphor was old 30 years ago), and stop trying to portray Jim as a petulant child. He should stop because it doesn't do the Doors any good in the long run. Jim's poems will endure long after anyone can remember Ray's stories. It would be far wiser for the Doors to cite Jim's accomplishments. Instead they want to sell the public an image of Jim (Jim the drunken troublemaker and black leather outlaw) that they think will sell records. This is very short sighted, and something that Jim would find distasteful.

It's strange and somehow ironic that Ray doesn't like HWY. Maybe it's a matter of taste.  Maybe he doesn't like experimental films, or films that turn their back on convention.  Jim thought HWY was complete (he says so in interviews) and he thought that it was something of a break through film. He was proud of it, proud enough to bring it Paris with him to show to his friends Agnès Varda and Jacques Demy. In matters of artistic taste I'll side with Jim Morrison every time. Ray didn't like the film “Feast of Friends” either, but he cut it up and used sequences from that film for the Doors home videos. Maybe he didn't like it because he wasn't much involved in the making of the film? And you know, he was very unfair about those home videos. He never did credit me for my camera work at the Hollywood Bowl Concert.

[...]

Ray, Robby and John are excellent musicians and even, most of time, OK guys. But something monumental happened to them when they were young and they've never recovered. They met a genius on their way to maturity and they've had trouble trying to justify their behavior during and since that genius walked out of their lives. I just realized that a whole book could be written on this subject: the effect that a truly remarkable human being has on the lives of the ordinary humans he encounters. Does anyone remember Pier Paolo Pasolini's film “Teorema” which explores this very subject?

One last note:  I have no hard feelings about Ray. He and I were friends once. I wish he'd remember that and stop demeaning me in the press. In fact I wish he'd retract all the bullshit he's said about me and set the record straight.  I was not one of Jim Morrison's “drinking buddies”, I was his friend.”

— Frank Lisciandro

#jim morrison #ray manzarek #robby krieger #john densmore #the doors #words #interview

[journeytothewest-daily]

New volume! Thanks for keeping on! I took some notes for chapter 26!

Wukong (no more Wade Giles uwu) demands that Tripitaka receive his three meals and six teas every day. That's not bad for a mendicant ascetic! I'd quite like to be guaranteed that, hahaha! There's a typo calling him the Tank Monk later in the chapter, very funny.

It's funny how reading Pinyin, which is all anyone uses now, feels unusual, while individual trees having names like Long-life grass of reverted cinnabar seems normal. You can really get used to anything.

I was quite surprised that the immortals are described as youngish-looking! We usually imagine a Greek philosopher-looking sage here, but even Plato was a virile, hairy wrestler once, I suppose! They always carry around gourds with stuff in them; I've seen the like in movies, but were they ever made of gourds, do you think? Pumpkins weren't around in Tang times, at least I think not.

Is Eight Rules and Idiot the same character? The switching between in the same paragraph seems to go against best writing advice, but I daresay I'll not write anything that will survive 500 years! Incidentally, he quotes a saying "put on the cap to increase riches." Is that a real saying or did he misunderstand something comedically?

There are several beautiful poems about specific natural sites here, and I wondered where Chinese people would learn these. Would they have to read them? Are they carved into stones near these rivers and mountains? Is poetry a part of the curriculum? Accented Cinema on youtube said poetry is a large part of Chinese culture, and I'm jealous. We all disliked it in Norwegian class :(

These supposedly rural and simple immortals have jade tea cups and wine goblets! That sounds nice! They should redistribute them to me! Hahaha! They have eternal life, after all, and isn't time worth at least as much as money?

Also, shout-out to the peach thief! Can't believe we got another peach thief here!

1. Same! I too struggle with having that many meals and teas (no money). To be a Tang Monk...

2. About the looking young thing, East Asians have a gene whose name I've forgotten that makes them mature more slowly than other ethnicities. My biologist s/o will kill me if he knew I've forgotten the name. So yeah, in my fantasy or historical despictions even of older people, they won't have many wrinkles (in others do). Remember that Taoism is about prolonging your life, so it's only normal that saints are young looking, while in the West ™ our idea of wise and saintly is Plato, Saint Patrick, etc.

3. I think that the only original to Asia gourd is the Wax Gourd, so they might have been using that.

4. Yes, Idiot and Zhu Bajie are the same and I too dislike a bit the constant change of name. I looked up the saying in English but couldn't find anything, and my chinese isn't good enough to try to translate it back into Chinese and look it up. I know that some of you are reading the OG Chinese book, could you tell us if it's a real saying?

5. Poems are very important in all cultures I'd say, and of course also in China. People who got an education in the past not only had to learn how to write poems but also to learn them from memory. For the imperial exams you were examined on your poetry. I think normal people like you and me in China would have learnt them from memory when a passing singer said them and retained. People used to work their brains more in the past, methinks. If you cared for poetry and you were a peasant, you'd try to memorize it and say it to others so you weren't a base man, but an intelligent peasant, closer to heavens because poetry comes from heaven etc.

5. It's only normal that immortals have jade things :) Maybe they lack in other commodities, but would you rather have a precious jade cup or ten IKEA mugs? I am sure they didn't even buy it, but they just sprung out of thin air in their house when they became immortals.

Thank you for your analysis :)

[flushedmusings]

————————— ୨•୧—————————

you’ve given me a burn, a deep dull ache in my heart that always longs for you, my sunshine.

even as i feel everything melt away from my wax façade i still have this strong will to stare directly at you, memorize you in my mind, see you in my dreams.

i could do anything in my dreams, be anywhere.

and there i am, in your basement, and the numbness is gone. and for a brief moment, i am just fully at peace.

but those are my dreams.

in the real world i’m standing in the blaring sun, burning. i can feel it, your heat on my skin, months later. i can still picture it, the moment you had done what no one else could. and i can’t do that for you.

sometimes i stop to ponder if i had made you up, a little wonder, my own little sun. but, reality is not so sweet.

you’re burning me.

every line i have and will write for you sets me ablaze, with an ache below the skin. deep in my bones, i feel it, i feel the incandescent shine fighting it’s way to the surface, clawing past my common sense and self control.

the hope childishly winning. leaving me waiting for you for hours again. leaving me with a hole in my chest whenever you leave. leaving me an open book for you to see.

you’d think by now i’d have learned my lesson. written enough chapters, sonnets, odes to you to feel satisfied. but no, i feel this need to articulate the way my ears burn, and a smile cracks itself across my face when you’re there. and how it makes me feel so cold when you aren’t.

how there’s nothing quite worse than knowing i’m a footnote to you, a brief mention in the chapters of your highschool life.

the year i’ve had, led me to fill 3 journals with your likeness in ink, and to a hopeless unrequited love that burns me out. like a candle you light with your presence and blow out with your absence.

and yes, i know that i should probably grow up, yes i know i won’t be in love with you forever. but in this moment there’s no amount of burning flesh that could part me from you.

and maybe this makes you uncomfortable, and i’m sorry, really i am, but i cannot control it. and i’ve got it no better, feeling my heart drop, my pulse spike, and the hairs on my arms raising, looking towards the sun, my body is like a garden of wilting sunflowers for you. the petals turning to ash in the great heatwave of our time together.

i’m like a child with a radiator hanging on, until i. physically cannot, and you may blister my heart, and it may bleed. but i still maintain that all humans need sunshine to live, and you, my darling, are my little sunshine.

and you have given me a burn.

————————— ୨•୧—————————

i never know how to end these, is it obvious? 😭

anywhosies guys ! update, i’m a hair less manic (no i’m not)

this rendition of girlfailure poetry™️ is brought to you by the horrors :3

if you pay attention you also may notice my poems have a small level of continuity:3

thanks for stopping by again hope you enjoyed reading this! (lord knows i hated writing it)

-🍒

#love poem #original poem #poems on tumblr #poetry #cherry’s journal (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞! #love letters

[shame-is-a-wasted-emotion]

For the new ask game for writers:

6, 18, 24, 39, 42, 50

🫶🏻

Oh lovely Aurora! Thank you for so many asks.

6. Favorite character you ever created.

Hmm.. I revolve around glee characters Much. Let's see.

I have this character called Jenna in my WIP "What happens in Alaska?" She confronts a gossip couple, who were bitching so much about Kurt. I think she was nice to write.

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

None actually. I write. I glance again to see if I should correct something,then post. If I needed a beta,I go for it. Not much of revisions

24. Poetry or prose, and why?

I write both actually. But writing prose Is less stressful. I will break my head over writing a poem. It needs more time,effort and creativity which I don't have.

39.Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.

Not much. I just write what I want to say to people. A few times,I put Kurt in my situations and Blaine is my imaginary comfort character

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

Well I don't. It's all set you know. Maybe if I write an original book,I'll tell you.

50.Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

I think every one of my story ideas are weird. I want to write a cadaver story. Like a spouse is dead and her/his body is donated to a medschool. Another spouse decides to study for pre med/med to find the spouse is embalmed and his study device that is a cadaver. Scary isn't it?

Thank you for asking ,@fallevs . I loved answering

#ask the writer #ask game #thank you for the questions #it was fun

[wrecursion]

woke up in the middle of the night to write down this dream:

i was exploring a trash dump behind an abandoned house on a street. then i realized that a part of my glasses fell off and i traced back my foot stems to look for it. i went to a part where i door was used as a bridge over a hole. then a voice came out of the hole, a girl. she was reciting a poem, a poem that went viral on the internet and became kind of a basic bitch poem, just too whimsical and relatable. it's about a boy who used to buy books from a hermit, and never found time to actually read them. years passed, the boy grew up, became a working adult, forgot about that whole thing, and then he met the hermit again. he was embarrassed by how many books he never got around to reading. the hermit remembered him, saw how unhappy he was, and suggested he become a hermit as well, so he does. then the cycle continues, and a new boy buys books from a new hermit.

i already found my glasses part at that point, but stayed to listen to the end. online i only ever read the first half of the poem, before the time skip. so i deduced that the voice in the hole was the author herself.

also, on the walls around the dump there was graffiti, and some phrases had verbose comments written near them in chalk, in small cursive handwriting, using academic language, like annotations in a book. there were bits of the wall where the colored stucco chipped off, revealing the white bricks, and there the writing seemed to switch to ink pen. i assume the same poet wrote those as well.

also there were stuffed toys of patrick and squidward strewn about, but not sponge bob. there was some commentary about the thematic parallels between them but it's also heavily implied that the author ships them.

the poet then advertised her youtube channel, where she in turn advertised her location, encouraging people to come see her in person. it her videos she recites her poems but also she has videos of her dog. i think she posted videos of her dog partially because she needed to appeal to a wider audience and pets are a big draw, while poetry isn't really something that people who aren't already poetry enthusiasts seek out. also, in the video i watched she wore a dress based on a maid outfit but with more decorative elements, and again, is that something she just does or is it so that the audience is drawn to her channel?

overall she left an ambivalent impression on me. i enjoyed her more avant garde projects, but the ones that became popular were very conventional, and she leaned into that, so she was kind of a sellout, but like, can you blame her?

after that encounter i thought that as an artist maybe i should also become a hermit, like it's a hot new social media. in my own trash dump i could display physical pieces that don't look as good on camera, i thought. (which is already something that exists in real life, it's called an art gallery)

#wranght #dreams