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lazuli-view · 1 year

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Hi! Let me introduce some concepts for the uninitiated before we introduce the blog.

-We are a DID system, this means that we are many individuals sharing a body. Sometimes we blend together in uncomfortable ways for the sake of getting through the day, but this is a place for us to be as open as we like with our true identities.

-our body is transfem, as is our host. While our system covers a huge variety of gender expressions, we're all familiar with feelings of dysphoria and dysmorphia, because this body will never be quite right.

-being human is optional, we have a very real place we exist when we aren't fronting, we (usually) share memories, but not all systems do.

-we are not diagnosed, but we have a mixture of alters and headmates, some born from trauma and others not. If you take issue with that, please leave. If you don't believe systems can exist without trauma, please leave.

-even IRL we are pretty open, so feel free to ask anything, if you can do so respectfully.

This is a place for us to post written down versions of things that happen in our headspace. There might also be general descriptions of things, system memes, and other semi related stuff. While this is intended to be mostly PG, I make no promises that there won't ever be nsfw content.

- Akito

PS: Headmates list!

Acantha - She/Her, Formerly "The Duchess". Vampiric, dominant with a gentle streak. Enjoys the finer things. Akito - They/He, Intersex enby. Fox-kin. Sassy and deceptive. Creativity, Drawing, Poetry. Astrid - She/Her, Transfem Dog-girl with husky traits and an intense attitude. Aussir - He/Him, Intersex/Transmasc magic boy with a love of lightning and weather. Speaks very precisely. Avika - She/Her, A burning beacon of every kind of energy. Can be spastic and aggressive and silly. Briar - She/Her, Transfem. Born of shadow, quite aggressive. Likes to poke and prod at people. Very butch lesbian energy. Cordelia - She/Her, kind of like a water elemental. Oddly enjoys sailing. Danilo - He/Him, Undead-ish man with arm-talons. darker skinned and lots of wound-scars. Connected to Lawra. Edgy man. Dorea - She/Her, Self modified Android girl. Slightly maniacal and very masochistic. Impulses of self harm, currently well under control. Eafa - She/Her, Little vamp. Cutesy but very sharp. Ephemeralia - She/Her, the Witch. Gatekeeper, indomitable. Evie - She/Her, Transfem "Chaos Goblin". Also a literal goblin. Talks sweet, but loves chaos and impulsivity. Former holder of impulse. Fianate - Pronouns vary, They/Them when not around, Ghosty, Gender shifting. former holder of depression and regrets. Hana - She/Her, Transfem. Love incarnate, age slider. Absolutely obsessed with caring for others. Kaimi - She/Her, Part time adventurer and part time monster hunter. Kazuhira - He/Him, Male and Masc, Vampiric. His build is thick and masculine, without much overt muscle, but plenty of deep seeded strength. In his 50's and is very verbose about expressing affection, but can also be very dominant. Kir - She/Her, Space cadet of a deer-girl. Lapis - She/Her, Transfem Tiefling. Leans servile, submissive, and respectful, but with a penchant for twisting requests like a monkeys paw. Lawra - She/Her, Feminine Enby, draconic and angelic. high emotions, high confidence, overthinks. Lover of music and one half of the original split. Librarian - She/Her, A servant of a particular library, she has a penchant for reading and an arcane connection to the written word. Liluye - She/Her, Draconic. Possessive and greedy. A little feral. Marx - He/Him, Aggressive canine forest man. Persecutor turned Protector. Wears an aggressive front, but is very kind under the surface. Age 30. Paige - She/Her, Former host. Trouble making doe. One of half of the original split. Overworker. Sexual impulse, kink, flirtation. Penelope - She/Her, Purple skinned demon teen with a penchant for piano. Pepper - She/Her, Firearms enjoyer. Blonde and always beaming. Piper - She/Her, Ghost girl, penchant for instrumental music. Very sweet, but can be aggressive. Mercury - He/Him, is puppy. Likes shifting between forms and taking on shapes halfway between. Excitable and kind. Sia - She/Her, Transfem goblin girl, very loudmouthed, but not very dominant. Calm and earnest. Child of the forest. Thain - He/Him, Masculine shadow demon. Seeps shadows like a mist constantly. Stern and Earnest. Seven feet tall. Just a real big boy.

#plural system #did #plurality #plural community #writing #journal

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betabites · 3 years

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Five by five world-building

Just some noodling about the Thornlands, for which I have a setting brief and some 5E stats here.

The Thornlands are an attempt to craft a setting by strictly limiting my palette, on the thinking that restrictions can spark creativity. So let’s see what turns up.

Five Folk: There are five dominant peoples in the Thornlands. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t other folk and cultures, but these are the five that are both common and closely linked into the setting. This is just a quick summary; the long form is in the setting brief.

1) Centaurs. Most common, dominant culture. Standard belligerent, fractious nobility, now with integrated horse. Not quite the half-horse, half-frat boy of Greek myth. Knightly modes of behavior, with star-gazing and associated divinations augmenting the Liberal Arts.

2) Fauxes. Talking foxes with magical and tricksy proclivities.

3) Huldrafolk. Backless emissaries of the Deep Woods, with a taste for the meat and souls of mortals.

4) Humans. The serfs of the centaurs. Notable for their weakness of bending at the knee and making pacts with all manner of beings.

5) Urds. Fallen angels, forced into pathetic bodies that still dream of the sky. Master artisans, but regarded with wariness by the masses.

Five Gods: It is disgustingly easy to build up a giant pantheon that most of your players will pay zero attention to. Again, these are not all the gods, but these are all the ones with major cultural impact, and the ones to whom every city will have a temple to, or at least a local cult. I accept that I am cheating by having two sets of two gods count as one.

1) Femta. Hearthmother, Forgemaster, Goddess of crafts, homes, protection, & families. Invoked for homely blessings, domestic doings, craftings, and protection from the unknown. As many rites as there are hearths.

2) Gilgadar. Fatebreaker, Seeker of the Unknown, God of thieves, outcasts, & foreigners. Invoked for luck, desperate hopes, disruption of the normal order. Femta’s ex-husband.

3) Push & Pull. Sea and Land, the Old Gods of agriculture, fishing, sailing, the wilds. Invoked for bountiful harvests, healthy animals, warding off the wilds. Uneasy relationship with the masses - plied with offerings to keep the monsters away.

4) Serra, the Queen of Graces & Glares. Goddess of the sky, celestial phenomena, healing, civilization. Invoked for healing, war, peace, civic purposes. Her church, like the kingdom, has been sundered.

5) Shift & Slide. Marshals of the Liminal. The Young Gods of mortality, beauty, youth, death, dreams. Invoked for pushing beyond the mundane and other esoterica. The most cultic of faiths, with many hidden rites and mysteries.

Five Banes: Sources of problems for the players to confront and resolve.

1) The Broken Chalice. This artifact of Serra is either the cause or the result of the fall of the kingdom. Theological arguments abound. But the results are unmistakable - both the mundane corruption of the old kingdom institutions and the mystical corruption of the sacred places of the old kingdom. The mystical corruption results in all manner of twisted creatures - half-living, chimerical, bifurcated... Mending the chalice will dispel these corruptions. Or perhaps removing the corrupted results will unbreak the chalice. Theological arguments, etc.

2) The Deep Forests. Even under the power of the Great King, the Deep Forests were never fully explored, and never have they been tamed. Ancient secrets and powers lurk within, and few take being roused well.

3) The Forgotten Songs. Creation was never completed. The fall of the Urds has left the angelic ranks thin, and in some places, the raw stuff of creation is still waiting to be molded.

4) The Unsleeping Elders. The blasphemies of humanity linger still. Their oaths were sworn beyond the grave, to the end of the world, and three days after. And their masters still lurk in the beyond, ever waiting...

5) The Whelmed Kingdom. When the great fall, the impact is felt for some time. Strife walks the lands, kin slay kin, friendships fracture.

Five Paths: This one really depends on what game you’re playing.

5E: Barbarians, Bards, Fighters, Paladins, Warlocks.

4E: Knights: Fighters, Paladins, Rangers, Warlords.

Villains: Barbarians, Rogues.

Warlocks: Sorcerers, Swordmages, Warlocks.

The Wild: Shamans, Wardens.

The Wise: Artificers, Bards, Invokers.

Five Problems:

1) Literally all of my friends are going to play Fauxes. It will not be a post-Arthuria game, it will be several fauxes in a suit of plate armor. Which isn’t bad, it’s just not what I really wanted out of the setting.

2) Actually doing a 4E folk list would be... difficult. Centaurs. How do you do Centaurs in 4E? I know, they scaled Minotaurs down, and we have Goliaths, so there’s precedent, but it’s a puzzle I’d have to tackle.

3) Speaking of, keeping everything accessible for centaurs is non-trival. Tight spaces, ladders, too steep stairs... it’s pretty easy to just block out a centaur. Mind, they know that, but there are a lot of knock-on effects to world-building - how different do castles look, for instance?

4) That restricted class list is painful. Having ritual magic readily available will mitigate it, but still. Complicating the 4E one, again, is that I’d probably have to muck with power sources.

5) Urds do me a concern. Because I’ve iterated on them a few times, going from the AD&D ‘kobolds with wings’ to ‘dog-lizard-chickens with dreams of flying and possibly gliders’ to the ex-angelic crafters and Seekers of the Song here. But in this particular setting, they are 100% taking the role of Jews in Medieval Europe. ‘Your people in this setting are fallen angels stuffed into ugly lizard bodies’ is, as they say, bad. Like, unsalvagably bad. Probably going to have to loot the setting for parts and try again, honestly. I’ve got Pendragon if I want to play Arthuria. Maybe I need to just lean into the faux angle and start with a premise of ‘you’re all playing fauxes’ and go from there.

#World-building #Dungeons & Dragons #D&D

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thecorteztwins · 4 years

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@esteicy-blog @sammysdewysensitiveeyes WEREWOLF SHINOBI RETURNS! The most well-known shapeshifter legend is probably the werewolf, but the reason for this is also probably because of the globalization of the West, the practice of colonialism and imperialism by the people who brought this legend. In other lands. But these other lands themselves had their own stories of shapechanging animals, and it wasn’t always wolves. “There’s only two of them in the entire territory,” Erik said, “And of the pair, only one fights.” “Any being will fight with its back against the wall,” countered Emma, “And I would caution you gentlemen to remember the saying about the female of the species.” “Even if one is a coward, I agree with Emma’s point that it’s still a 500 pound coward with teeth much larger than any of our own, and claws to match,” Shaw said, “But I also agree with Erik that there’s just two of them. And each can only point those teeth and claws in a single direction at once. It’s no different than the horns and hooves of a buck---you just make sure you’re not attacking from that direction.” “Now who’s a coward?” Emma jibed, “But a practical one. There is an advantage in numbers, yes---meaning others can swarm and distract them, while one of us makes the kill from behind.” “The point I was trying to make,” Erik brough the conversation back to himself in irritation, “was not that their deficiency in numbers and gumption should be exploited, but that we should not be attacking them in the first place, let alone killing them for nothing more than having something we want. I’ll defend my people to the death. I will attack any hunter pre-emptively, even if he’s lying helpless in his bed. But these two---they are kin to our kind, and never threatened us.” “They have hunting grounds we need to survive,” Emma said, crossing her arms, “And winter is coming. I take your point, Erik, and I assure you, I don’t do this lightly---but I will sooner see two of their kind starve, then let our children do so.” Erik sighed. He could not argue this, for he felt the same. Between his people and any other, he would always pick the survival of his own. But he could not feel the righteous fury, the vicious satisfaction of the triumph, in the same way he would against hunters or vampires or some deserving foe, instead of two undeserving ones who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He especially hated that he’d be fighting alongside Shaw in this, as he knew that, unlike himself and Emma, Shaw had no such compunctions---he just wanted the territory, whether they needed it or not. Of course, Erik pondered grimly to himself, Does one’s intentions matter, when one’s actions will be the same? *** The attack was one. The wolves had come into the jungle strategically at first, stalking and sneaking, but now they had been discovered by their prey, and the time to attack head-on was here. They threw each other at the great striped beast from every side, and it tossed them too and throw with the bucks of its massive body, the strikes of its impossibly huge paws. Werewolves are a great deal larger than natural wolves...but the same held true for weretigers, and this one, a young male in his prime, was no exception. He was a magnificent beast, a worthy foe, and anyone who struck the killing bite to such a monster, won such a victory for the pack, would surely be celebrated as a hero. So Shinobi knew it had to be him. The fact he was a coward and barely resembled a wolf so much as a rather fluffy, doggish-looking black coyote or oversized fox, wasn’t going to get in his way. He would be respected and loved at last---by the pack, and by his father! Now was his chance---now! Seeing an opening while the tiger was distracted by the rest of the pack, Shinobi ran as fast as his four furry feet---very dainty little paws, really--would carry him over the terrain, and LEAPED, sailing in the air towards the back of the tiger... ...and WOULD have landed there, if the jaws of a second tiger that had leaped in from the side had not caught him. If Shinobi had not been so shocked, and had the brain cells, he might have noticed that just as the first one had not ripped apart any of his pack with its claws, this one did not sink its sabre-teeth into his flesh. Indeed, the grip on his tiny body was both gentle and secure, neither hurting him nor risking him flopping around uncomfortably. But Shinobi was not concerned with this; he was too busy howling all the way as the beast trotted away with him, letting out piteous pleas for aid to his pack and ridiculously boastful threats to the beast that had caught him. *** “It took one of the cubs?!” Emma was horrified. “We’re not sure which one,” Shaw said, “Apparently someone saw one of the little ones---a teen, probably, judging by the size---jump into the fray and get captured. But it all happened so fast, and they were fighting themselves, so they’re not sure who it was.” “It doesn’t matter!” Erik brought his fist down upon the stone they used as a table when in human form, “Our young are no one’s prey---I was hesitant to attack before, but now---” “Now,” said Emma,” placing a hand on him to remind him to calm himself, “Now, we do not fight. We bargain. We fought the first tiger to exhaustion, and now he is our prisoner. If the cub still lives, we exchange his live for theirs.” “I say we exchange his life for the territory the other still holds, and leave the cub to its fate,” Shaw said. “Sebastian!” Emma said, aghast yet not surprised, while Erik snarled at the very idea as if he was in his wolf form. “What?” Sebastian said, used to this reaction even from his ruthless cohorts, “The little idiot chose to put itself in danger, and we need this territory much more than we need its life. Because if we don’t get it, then ALL our cubs will die this winter. That’s why we’re doing this. Better lose one than risk many.” “We will not lose a SINGLE child!” Erik raged. “It is a....practical point, Sebastian, but I think I shall try to negotiate for both,” Emma sighed, putting her fingers to her forehead as though she had a headache, as she often did when her two fellow leaders butted heads. Sometimes, it was because they were both idiots...sometimes, it was because she saw both points. Although that didn’t change they WERE still both idiots. *** Emma had said she would negotiate, and she meant it---she alone. She didn’t trust either of her cohorts not to lose their tempers and ruin things, and the second tiger was an unknown factor. It was said that the beast did not fight, but Emma knew this didn’t necessarily make it less dangerous, as she’d said from the start. Perhaps it was lame. Perhaps it had cubs of its own---it was said to be female, after all, likely the mate of the male. Both would make it far more dangerous even than the first, and he had been a brute of a beast. Emma still thought it was very, very suspicious he’d been taken alive with no casualties to their side... “I’m not trying to sneak up on you, darling, if that were not very obviously,” she said to the mouth of the cave, “And I think it’s clear by my shape I’ve not come to fight.” She was in human form, and wearing clothing at that, white high-heeled boots with pointy toes, white cape draped over her shoulders. Hardly the sorts of things one donned for a trek through the jungle, yet they were as spotless as the fur of her wolf form always was. “I understand you have something of ours, just as we have something of yours. I’m here to see if you won’t consider a little bargain. I know you’re likely in no mood to parlay with us, but surely we can work something out...for the sake of your mate.” “Emma? Oh, hey, Emma!” The last voice she expected addressed her from within the massive dark cave that her human eyes could not penetrate, and out bounded--- “Shinobi?!”

It wasn’t a cub that had been grabbed at all---it was just Shaw’s ridiculous runt! “Did you miss me?” he asked eagerly, “Is everyone TERRIBLY worried? Is father in hysterics?” “He, er...I don’t think he’s realized you’re gone, Shinobi,” she said, “We thought it was a CHILD who was snatched. Listen, what--” “But you’re here to negotiate for me, you just said!” he whined, “I’m the prince of the pack, that has to mean SOMETHING!” Emma sighed, “I suppose TECHNICALLY this doesn’t change anything, we can still exchange---wait. Shinobi, Shinobi, let’s both run right now, before she---” “Run?” Shinobi asked, “Ohhhh! Oh no no no you don’t get it. I’m not leaving.” “What.” Emma said flatly. Oh no, had he decided he was going to SEDUCE their enemy? He’d tried that sort of thing before. “Haven’s great! Listen, just TALK to her and she’ll let you hunt on her turf I’m sure! And um, give her her brother back, she’s really worried.” “Her brother.” “I hope he didn’t hurt any of yours,” said a soft, gentle, but rather deep-yet-very-feminine voice from the cave. And Emma saw stepping out from the blackness, one of the tallest women she’d ever witnessed. And Emma was hardly what anyone would call short herself. “I did ask him not to...but it seemed to me like your forces were fighting to kill.” “So you took Shinobi so you could have a means to bargain for his life,” Emma surmised, ice blue eyes narrowing. “Actually,” said the weretiger, looking slightly embarrassed, “I thought he was a puppy. Someone’s baby that had followed its parents on to the battlefield. I wanted to get him out of danger. If he hadn’t been there I would have stepped in myself to put a stop to things, but...” “But I have successfully negotiated treaty terms with her, and now the day is saved without any bloodshed!” Shinobi bragged. And, technically, he was right. So Emma Frost had to go home, with a smug Shinobi and female weretiger walking at her side, and explain to Erik, Shaw, and the entire pack that not only had no lives been lost thanks to Shinobi’s interference, the jungle was now free hunting ground for the pack through the winter, and that he had basically (Shinobi was sure to interject this several times) saved them all.

#fic #writing #werewolf shinobi

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danwhobrowses · 5 years

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Tinfoil Discussions: One Piece Wano Arc

So this is gonna be a new thing; I don’t particularly post on Tumblr but I am the kinda guy who likes to put thoughts out there, so this is the first ‘Tinfoil Discussion’ where I’ll just be ranting personal opinions of various mediums. This first discussion involving One Piece’s Wano Arc.

It’s worth noting that there are Spoilers enclosed in this discussion up to One Piece Chapter 954, if you’re not caught up then I would advise not reading this until then...unless you’re not worried about spoilers. Also this’ll be an essay, no light reading here I have a lot flowing through my head.

So the Wano Arc has been something we’ve been waiting long for, not just because it was promising to be a Zoro-heavy arc but because it had been mentioned continuously and central to many elements of One Piece Lore; it’s where the Meito are made, the Poneglyphs were carved and is the den of Yonko, Kaido. Right now we’re in the second act of the arc, in 5 days the Ninja-Samurai-Pirate-Mink Alliance will take back Wano from Shogun Orochi and then hope to defeat (and potentially even kill) Kaido in Onigashima

Here’s the But though, is that enough time?

Because I don’t actually think so anymore. Undoubtedly the Fire Festival will not go to plan, not that anything ever will, but such bodes the question where we go after. Right now I can only think of two routes; the first is that the Wano Country Arc is utilizing a 5-Act Structure rather than the 3 that’s common with story narrative or Wano is the setting of 2 Arcs (Similar to Jaya/Skypeia or Water 7/Enies Lobby): Wano Country and the ‘War of Wars’ arc. Either one is something I am all for, even both would make narrative sense, so how will it pan out?

What will go wrong? (Note if the discussion cut off here I apologise, it seems CTRL+Enter is to post) The Obvious thing that will halt the Straw Hats is the Alliance between Kaido and Big Mom, both of whom having an axe to grind with Luffy due to their activities in Punk Hazard, Dressrosa and Whole Cake Island. There’s also other things at play though; the threat of Law ending his alliance (doubt he will), Edward Weevil’s pursuit of Marco, the creation of Sea Prism Stone weapons, CP0 in the Flower Capital and the lingering uncertainty that is what Kyoshiro is planning. All of these will likely lead to the Alliance either failing at Onigashima or failing to reach Onigashima, hopefully the latter, but that does not mean that the arc will be for naught. The Straw Hats are not strangers to taking the Big Picture L; Water 7, Sabaody, Marineford and WCI prove this, so what matters to this stage of Wano (possibly Act 3) is the small victory.

The Small Victory The plan on paper is simple; meet at the port, usurp the vulnerable capital, sail to Onigashima, defeat Kaido. Since the last two as we’ve covered are where the L starts to take shape, the victory must lie in saving the people of Wano and fulfilling Toki’s prophecy. Usurping Orochi does not seem to be as troublesome as defeating Kaido, even ‘Hiyori’ was able to throw him into a wall, the only true threat level is in Kyoshiro and the All Stars. This is something that can easily pan out the alliance’s way, but the victory could be gifted rather than seized. As I mentioned, Kyoshiro has yet to play his hand, how ‘Hiyori’ faked her death still unknown, it would seem that the Yakuza boss has his own plans, something that when the Alliance comes could end the usefulness of Shogun Orochi. As a result, Kyoshiro may allow the Alliance to take Orochi down, losing the battle so he can fight in the War. This theory also aligns with why I’m using parenthesis on Kozuki Hiyori - I still don’t trust her. But we’ll get to that, the other victory that would need to be addressed is the cure for SMILE, a role that may happen before or after claiming the Capital, it is certainly a thread we must resolve before leaving Wano and it can be proving ground for Chopper’s medical expertise - already impressive since he easily remedied Queen’s Mummy virus.

Kozuki ‘Hiyori’ Even if she is Hiyori - not that Kawamatsu recognized her, there is the consideration that the considered ‘most beautiful courtesan in Wano’ may be on Kyoshiro’s side. For over a decade he did look after her and they made a note that she knows how to play the long con, Kyoshiro also compares the courtesan like one of his own family, something she may feel like her Father didn’t provide. This could make her the anti-Pudding of the arc, which some may be annoyed by but it would be an ironic juxtaposition since Pudding played the ‘Woman as Temptress’ role for Zoro’s...rival? Brother? Brival? Sanji, whatever Sanji is, but Hiyori has done little to truly connect with Zoro the way she has tempted other men, woman even jumped into bed with him while he slept and he wasn’t impressed. So her turning on her kin can also give a unique personal twist to the Oden Clan’s involvement against Kaido and it may gift Shusui to Kyoshiro for his and Zoro’s proper clash, Enma possibly being a fake as she finally found something she can con out of Zoro - that could just be me wanting Zoro to keep the black blade though. This is whether she is indeed Kozuki Hiyori, and not someone who knows the story, though I’m 80% sure she is on that front, Oda is a man of misdirection.

The Reverie Connection Part of what makes me think that Wano will go beyond the Fire Festival is this connection to the Reverie, the brilliant mini-arc left on a cliffhanger as intermission between Acts 1 and 2, and slightly carried by Bege’s cover story, but it had information that bled into Wano. Come Act 2′s end, I expect the Reverie arc to resume so that we get new action, the Alliance of Big Mom and Kaido will certainly reach the Marines, through moles or CP0 as they return, this is likely what’s going to cause them to converge and let us know more about the Rox Pirates. This may also be position for another mystery of One Piece to rear itself: Dr Vegapunk. Vegapunk is hot commodity, he knows how to manipulate seastone, has most likely treated the Punk Hazard children and knows about the Vinsmoke genetics from his old partnership with Judge, there is also the Warlord Replacement Fujitora and the hidden Ryokogyu have discussed. Atop of the Im and Revolutionary plot notes will lead plenty of butterfly effects for mid and post-Wano storyline, but for Kaido to get his war the WG would need to get involved (and they’d want to keep an eye on the land that wrote the poneglyphs), and it will take time either way, much more than 5 days.

What the Aftermath of the Fire Festival Will Bring The Alliance’s initial failure to defeat Kaido is likely what’ll lead to the thing that makes Oda tout that Wano will make Marineford look small. The convergence of the WG will bring big guns and showcase some more of the Marine’s strength of force and how it can impact the rest of the world, with hope I’d like to see Tashigi get the arc she was due from Wano too, she is a swordswoman and this is the land of swords, also I’m tired of people calling her weak (all her opponents are high tier; Monet almost killed Luffy, Vergo almost broke Sanji’s leg, Law cut a mountain and Vergo in half, I could go on), moments for characters to step up can be built properly in this time as well, because all the Straw Hats need that next level bolster. Sanji may have the Raid Suit, Nami may have Zeus and Luffy is learning the Advanced Haki but the likes of Zoro, Usopp, Chopper, Robin and potentially Franky can use this stage to properly announce themselves to the world. We can also use this time for the much-theorized Zoro origin lore, Poneglyph stuff and Marco’s message to Luffy, this may also provide time to pick up threads left by WCI; Jimbei, the Vinsmokes, Pedro, this may also provide time for Big Mom’s remaining forces (primarily Pudding and Katakuri) and the Straw Hat Grand Fleet to converge on Wano also. There are also loose ends with Wano; the person Hitetsu is waiting for, Kidd’s Crew, Denjuro, Ox Third Boy, Basil Hawkins (hope that guy is alive), the possibility of a codenamed Ace of Kaido’s crew, the frustrating absence of Carrot throughout most of the arc (such a downfall from potential Nakama to not even in background), possibly even the Oars connection to Kaido’s Numbers, above all of them however is the appearance of someone that has been frequently hinted as of late...

Gekko Moria Moria isn’t popular with fans, but his positioning in Wano is something we should take note, Bege was going to Thriller Bark, Moria has escaped Blackbeard’s clutches, Perona is looking for him and his graverobbing has been mentioned. I think Moria could get involved in Wano, and be partly instrumental in allowing Zoro to keep Shusui, his axe to grind with Kaido may also be a useful weapon against him and Big Mom, using Zombie Samurai to improve numbers. Like Buggy and Cesar, he may end up being a reluctant temporary ally to the Straw Hats. Moria can also provide Blackbeard intel, but I don’t expect him to stick, may go the way of Bellamy and bow out after.

So that’s stuff that mulls around my head, theories of factor as to why I expect Wano to last longer, possibly even beyond Chapter 1000. To conclude I’ll just throw on some mini theories I have:

Zoro will at least buddy with Onimaru the Lion Fox, for a while. Zoro is fox in Spanish and he has Shimotsuki connections even if he isn’t of their clan due to Koushiro living in Shimotsuki village

We’re gonna learn something about Ace, he was a Spade Pirate and Kaido names his ranks after playing cards, there is a link

Luffy, Law and Kidd will fight together, just as they did in Sabaody

The Crew will only properly reunite in Onigashima, where they will have a Walk

We’ll learn of why Wano was the City of Gold, and Caribou may reap from it (I like his face turn but I don’t trust his greed)

Sandai Kitetsu will break, probably to Kyoshiro’s hand - this could be a la Rurouni Kenshin, whose Sakabato was destroyed

Kaido will face Monster Point Chopper, Chopper and his Rumble Balls should really be something Kaido would want

Big Mom will betray Kaido (’mama always makes the preemptive move’), Hawkins will join a new crew (I think he was betrayed, there were cuffs on the wall where he lay before Law) - be it Big Mom or the Grand Fleet and Momo will not be the next Shogun, I guess Hyou could be but he was a Yakuza leader, but Momo wants to learn about Zou and I think he’ll stick with that

Dogstorm and Nekomamushi will go Su Long

As well as the Bounty Increase, several Straw Hats will get new titles. Titles like ‘Pirate Hunter’, ‘Cat Burglar’, ‘Devil Child’ and ‘Cotton Candy Lover’ are not befitting of crew members anymore

So yeah, got that all off my chest...I won’t just talk about One Piece I’ll have more, if anyone reads hope it had some refreshing insights, if not then we’ll see how wrong I was XD

#one piece #wano arc #luffy #zoro #kaido #big mom

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mardi-nah · 5 years

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Kitsune (1)

Bullying, possession, angst, mythology, fantasy, magic, romance, enemies to friends to lovers, Japanese culture, Japanese-American narrator

Grandma always warned me, “You’re too American, mago. You trust too easily. Your country has forgotten the creatures that live inside of it. Don’t look away from the yokai. Don’t turn your back to a kitsune—that’s how they get you.”

I think she was worried that I didn’t believe in yokai, but I did, at least somewhat.

My family used to fly to Japan to visit every year or two, and we might stay for a week up to a month. I remember being little, scribbling in a coloring book as anxious, unfamiliar families came in, seeking my grandmother, speaking in low tones.

She would sit in a room alone with one of the members, closed off to everyone but the two of them and sometimes myself. She would ask me to continue my puzzle games and coloring, but I always listened closely.

“Hello Miko,” Grandma said, “How are you?”

She tilted her head, the pendant tinkling like a tiny bell. “I’m fine, thank you. You have a lovely home.”

Grandma bowed her head. “Thank you. I’ll put us on some tea. Is there anything you would like to eat?”

Miko smiled slightly. “I would like some hong dou tang please.”

That was azukimeshi. It was almost always bad if they asked for azukimeshi or tofu or aburage.

Grandma didn’t say anything, though. She stood, walked back to the little stove she had in the room, and went about putting on a kettle of tea and starting a pot to boil the sugar and the adzuki beans.

“Your family is worried about you,” Grandma commented as she went about cooking, “They’ve told me you have started refusing to let your dog sleep in your room.”

“It caught fleas,” Miko answered easily.

“They say you did poorly in your English courses. And yet you speak fluently with me.”

Uh-oh.

Miko sat quietly where she was for a minute, just smiling that small smile, eyes on her lap. And then, with no warning, with no movement, Grandma was suddenly on the floor, eyes bulging as Miko strangled her.

I never saw or heard the other girl move; the chabudai had been flipped over on to its side, but I couldn’t tell you how it happened.

I started to scream.

My parents and Miko’s family burst into the room and looked around for a minute. A broad relative of Miko’s sucked in a breath, whispered in fear or awe or a little bit of both, “It’s Kitsunetsuki.”

Fox possession.

And then everyone immediately charged for the two struggling women. The yokai possessing Miko must have imbued her with incredible strength; my father was the first to reach her, but as soon as he started to pull on her arm she flung him off, sending him sailing across the room. He landed with a hard crack, and my screams heightened.

It took all four of Miko’s relatives and my mom to pull her off Grandma, who turned on to her side, coughing and wheezing.

“I curse you!” The girl hissed, dark eyes rolling into the back of her head, a froth building at the corners of her painted lips. “I curse you and your family! The Sasaki family will fall, one by one, and your daughters will bear no children. Your sons will die bloody.”

And with that, weeping and shaking, the family dragged Miko out. We never saw her again.

Grandma had bruises around her throat for weeks, but she never talked about it. No one prompted her too, either.

I could never understand how so many people could come visit my grandma’s home, and yet when we went to the market for groceries people would watch and whisper about us as we walked by, as if we were a scandal. They never approached us and would quickly move away if they saw us coming. Mothers would hold children close, men would step between us and their women.

And there was always that word. The word they whispered, chanted like a protective charm—or a curse. That word seemed to follow Grandma and myself everywhere in town.

Tsukimono-suji.

Fox witch.

The summer following the Miko incident, I fled from the stuffy house and into the trees surrounding Grandma’s property, running and hopping over fallen tree trunks and cheered on by the low singing of cicadas.

Grandma and Dad hated it when I came out here, so maybe it was me being rebellious, playing in the woods. Maybe it was curiosity, or some grand sense of adventure, or maybe it was even simple destiny leading me into those thick woods.

Whatever the case, I ventured so far, so deep, that eventually I came upon a statue.

The statue itself wasn’t that important—it was only a Jizō statue, depicting an almost cheerful figure with its eyes squinted closed. We had a small cemetery in the back of the property where Grandma’s parents had once had to bury some of Grandma’s young siblings after a tragic fire. The Jizō statue was erected later to honor the deceased children—it was the thing perched on its head that made me catch my breath.

A fully grown man sat on the Jizō’s head, wearing the loose crimson trousers and white top of the traditional hikama. A white kitesune mask trimmed in red hid his face from me, and tufts of impossibly white hair stuck up and out around it, messy and uncared for. He was swinging his sandaled feet like he didn’t have a care in the world, a red handheld fan was clutched in one of his hands.

“Oh? A girl comes to visit me after all these years? Hello, girl. Are you tasty?” His voice was a bit muffled by the mask, but it was deep, a man’s voice, tone cheerful.

I back pedaled immediately, heart in my throat. Suffocating. “No, I—I don’t taste good at all.”

“Are you sure? You smell scrumptious. And your family owes it to me, abandoning me for so long. I’m very hurt.” He jumped down from the statue, and somehow being on the same level as him made him seem so much scarier, taller and broader and powerful.

I backed up and up and up until I tripped and almost lost my balance. The man giggled, and it just seemed so mean, like my embarrassment and pain genuinely delighted him.

“You’re all so selfish,” the man continued, taking a step forward for every one I took backwards. “You take and take and take and can’t fathom to give every once in awhile. I should kill all of you and be done with it.”

The Sasaki family will fall, one by one…

I whimpered, flinching as my back hit the trunk of a tree, cowering as the man came steadily closer. “Please don’t. I haven’t done anything.

He stopped, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Exactly! You and your kin have done nothing. I was loyal for generations, and your matriarch left me trapped here for a stupid mortal man.”

“My—my what?” I sputtered.

The man cocked his head to one side, as if considering me beneath his mask. “You look uncomfortable. Am I making you uncomfortable?” I didn’t get the chance to answer before his visage popped into a cloud of milky fog, and I coughed and waved. When it cleared, a young boy in the same outfit was standing in front of me, head still cocked. But now there were thick, fluffy tails swishing behind him, white at the base with blood red tips “How about now? We’re even the same height!”

I pressed back against the tree, mouth dry, eyes wide. “Kitesune.”

“Human.” He replied mockingly. “Oh, I know, how about this?” Another pop, another cloud of smoke, and then the mask was gone and a young girl with a round face and short black hair was smiling giddily back at me. She was missing a tooth, and she looked only nine or ten, my age—

It was me.

I screamed.

She—no, he—laughed, loud and rough and cackling, and it followed me as I fled, running as fast as I could back to the safety of Grandma’s house.

#kitsune #my post #fantasy #magic #romance #mythology #japan #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #bullying #katsu

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marmosette · 6 years

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The End?

I hate titles.

So this is another of that series of fic where I used pre-set first lines from a prompt list and did one with Mystrade and one set in Foldings. Only every time I do it, I can’t find the same list I started with, so both prompts are from different lists (”Bruises” being the other). (Honestly, I forgot that one. I didn’t remember the starting line, or what I’d written, or where I posted them. Anyone else do that?)

This is the Foldings one...

“Is this the end? After everything we’ve been through?”

“End of what?”

“Us. You an’ me. We were a good team,” EJ said sadly, his cheek mashed against his forearm as he laid against his school desk. “Nobody else ever kept up.”

“’Cept your mice.”

“But they can’t do spells.”

“How would you know?”

“C’mon, Christine. Come on. Once it’s out of the oven, we’ve only got a couple of minutes till it’s on a tray up to their rooms.”

“All you have to do is ask and I bet one of the cooks would make all the mudpie you want.”

“But it’s never as good as when Sally does it!”

“How do you know?”

“She made it last year for the Darklight Fest! We only got some because the Vedouci and Druhy were both out.”

“What difference does it make who made the pie?” Christine asked, scrubbing at her paper furiously with her pencil, covering it in black smudge.

“I dunno. If I did, I’d be in the kitchens. It’s just…better. She uses more chocolate or something. And the gravy on top is smoother.”

“You mean sauce.”

“I don’t know! I don’t work in the kitchen!” EJ turned his head face down, groaning against his desktop. “Come on.”

“I want to finish this.”

EJ flopped back in his seat suddenly, sighing. “It’s too late. Don’t bother. It’s already on the tray, in the dumbwaiter, on the way up. All that crispy, flaky crust and juicy chocolate, steaming and melting all over the plate…”

Christine reached across the aisle with one hand and shoved EJ hard in the chest. “Don’t be stupid.”

EJ shrugged, his nonchalance almost convincing himself. “Why not? Never tried being stupid. It might be fun. Always looks like it when Pochet does.”

“You’re mean.” There was no heat in it, but there never was. Christine said it several times a day, so it was probably automatic.

“Well I’m gonna go see if there’s any left, now. You can come or stay here with the little babies and learn numbers or something.” EJ shoved his chair back.

“No, stop!” Christine hissed. “Just…wait for me.”

“Hurry up, then.”

Christine bit her lip, scowling fiercely at her paper. Śe Sophia was crouched beside Amy, helping her draw. With the teacher’s attention focused elsewhere, Christine pushed her hand flat against the blank page, pressing as hard as she could until as much of the page as possible was in contact with her hand. Then she snapped her hand back pulled, yanking dark black lines into place. It wasn’t quite what she had in mind. She’d wanted a ship with lots of sails and ropes and rigging and nets and flags and masts, but trying to picture all of it at once was a lot harder than drawing it a bit at a time, making sure all the lines were straight, seeing if the sails were wide enough, if she could fit one more in. The image she’d pulled into place had crooked masts with sails that were just white squares that overlapped. The flag at the top of the tallest mast was just a bunch of lines. The sea that she’d already drawn put the ship to shame, but it was good enough when weighed against the potential loss of chocolate.

“Śe Sophia? I’m done,” Christine announced, dropping the picture into the bag next to her desk. “May we go to the library?”

The teacher looked up at her with piercing green eyes, then flicked her gaze across to EJ. “We?”

“Yes, Śe,” EJ said politely. “She’s going to help me find a book on mice.”

“Why do you want a book on mice?” Sophia demanded, straightening and crossing the room in three long strides, dodging desks that were little more than knee-high to her to get to the taller ones at the back.

“I read all the books on helephants and foxes and weasels and their kin, I’ve read three on rabbits, ten on horses, five on lizards, seven on frogs—”

“I didn’t ask which books you have read,” Sophia sighed, propping her fists on her hips. “Why mice?”

“Because they’re brilliant!” EJ burst out. “They learn all kinds of things, and they can get through a hole you can barely see, and they talk with smells, and they have feelings and get happy and sad for each other and they’ll tell you that, you just have to—”

“EJ! I understand!” Sophia waved off his excitement. “It seems to me you already know a great deal on the subject of mice.”

“Oh but there’s so much more!” EJ said earnestly. “I wanna know how many kinds there are, and if they can all talk to each other or if they have languages like people do, and if they learn each others’ languages, and do they have accents? Do they all learn stuff the same way? Like if I give one a puzzle will he figure it out the same way as a mouse from Nine Bridges Over Grass? And can they teach each other? And do they all live as long or do some live longer? Can they figure out how to help each other live longer, like is there mouse medicine? What kinds of magic can they do—”

“Mice doing magic?” Sophia asked in alarm.

“Sure, Śe! Why not? If they can learn the sigils and run around them, why wouldn’t it work?”

“Śe Sophia? Can we get pet mice?” asked a small boy in the front pair of desks.

“Christine, take EJ to the library and see if you can find him a book on why mice make very bad pets,” Sophia sighed, waving the pair of them toward the door. “Pochet, my darling, let’s see first if you can draw one. What kind of mouse do you think would live in a desert?…”

EJ grabbed Christine’s hand as they sprinted down the hallway. “Come on! Maybe we can steal the gravy pot!”

“It’s sauce, EJ, and you can’t because you’re too short and can’t levitate things yet.”

“Neither can you!”

“I don’t need to because I’m tall enough and I climb better. And I know how to stack thing so they don’t tip over!”

“See? This is why we’re a good team!”

“Because I could sneak the pie out without you?” she asked, and dashed past him, laughing.

“Because you wouldn’t think to steal it!” EJ called, stretching his legs to try to catch up.

Ten minutes later, the pair were sitting in a corner of the kitchen with red knuckles, tear tracks down their cheeks, and small bowls with broken chunks of flaky pastry covered in gooey chocolate. Sally harrumphed and walked away from them, muttering.

“Library after though, yeah?” EJ whispered.

“You mean you don’t already know all that about your mice? I thought now you had one from every country in your box!”

“I do,” EJ insisted, setting down his spoon for a moment to slide the matchbox out of his pocket and nudge the lid back just far enough for dozens of tiny pink noses like grains of sand to poke up at him over the edge of the box. He picked off a crumb of pastry for them and dropped it into the box, feeling the balance tip as the magically-shrunken animals scampered over to begin nibbling on a flake big enough for two of them to hide under.

“Can I see them?” Christine asked, bending closer. She waved at the box by barely moving the tip of her finger, unable to hide a grin at the soft chorus of squeaks in response.

“They always like you,” EJ said, dropping in a few more crumbs.

“D’you think you could shrink a horse to something tiny enough to fit in a pocket?”

“Reckon I could. Problem is finding a horse that no one would notice was missing.”

“I’ll ask Tom,” Christine decided. “Next time he comes for Amy’s pile. He doesn’t like them.”

“If he doesn’t like the piles, why does he come to them? And isn’t he more likely to say no, then?” Ej asked, finally getting more of his attention focused on the broken bits of pie in front of him.

“No, he doesn’t like horses,” Christine told him, industriously cramming chocolate into her mouth. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Maybe I like being stupid.”

“Can I have your pie, stupid?”

#The Foldings #prompts fic #EJ and Christine and the mice #steampunk #magic #tiny tiny TINY mice #no smaller

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scenes-in-between · 6 years

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Deadalive (5/5)

She has this recurring dream.

It started about a month after Mulder’s funeral, and she’s had it at least once a week since then. The location of the dream isn’t always the same; sometimes she’s at home, sometimes in the office or her car. But no matter where it takes place, in the dream she always gets a phone call, and it’s always Mulder’s voice on the other end.

“Scully, it’s me.”

The first time it happened, she woke up gasping, elation plunging into grief as reality tore apart the illusion. It was just a dream. He’s still gone. I’m still alone. After it recurred a few times, she grew angry, furious at the cruel trick of her subconscious, even lashing out in her sleep to yell at him over the phone.

“You’re dead, Mulder! Stop doing this to me! It isn’t fair!”

She kept having the dream.

Anger gave way eventually to resignation. Now when he calls her, she tells him about her day, or works through problems she’s having with cases, the way she used to “talk” to him in her head when he was missing. She’s not lucid dreaming -- there’s no conscious control over what she says and does -- but apparently her unconscious mind has decided she needs this, whether or not she wants it. It still hurts when she wakes up, but not as sharply as it used to. It’s a dull ache that lingers and leaves her quiet for the rest of the day at work, rather than a piercing emptiness that leaves her struggling to catch her breath or make it out of bed.

One night, the phone rings for real, waking her from a dreamless sleep. She answers it, expecting to hear Doggett’s voice, or Skinner’s. Instead, it’s a woman, whose voice she doesn’t recognize.

“I’m looking for Dana Scully?”

“Y-yes, this is she. Can I help you?”

“Ma’am, this is the admitting nurse at Annapolis Naval Hospital. I’m calling because you are listed as the next of kin for a man who’s been brought in.” Her stomach twists with fear over something happening to one of her brothers, but she is completely unprepared for what the woman says next. “A Fox Mulder?”

“Wait… what?”

“Yes, ma’am. I assume he was missing and presumed dead because he showed up in our system as deceased. But we have a positive ID from the FBI agents who brought him in.”

But that’s impossible. There has to be some mistake.

“Are you telling me that he’s… he’s alive?”

“I don’t know much about his status beyond the fact that they’ve got him on a ventilator.”

She says something else, but Scully can’t make out the words over the blood pounding in her ears. They don’t put dead bodies on ventilators.

“I’m on my way.”

Her hands shake as she rushes to get dressed. Not letting herself get her hopes up would be the smart thing, but it’s a fool’s errand. If it’s true… if he’s really alive… She’s had prayers answered before, but never like this. Never in a way that completely defies not just explanation but reality itself. How in the hell could he go from a casket six feet underground to a hospital bed 300 miles away, three months after burial? It’s the very definition of impossible.

A thought hits her then that stops her in her tracks. What if his death itself was a lie? What if that was never Mulder’s body to begin with?

After they found him in Montana, she begged Skinner to countermand the autopsy order. She was in no shape to perform the autopsy herself, and she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else cutting into him. It was clear from an external examination that he’d been tortured, and her emotional reaction to that fact overtook the rational response she would have had under any other circumstances. Probably against his better judgment, Skinner did as she asked, and Mulder was buried without anything more than a cursory blood type match to confirm his identity. There was no reason to think additional confirmation was needed, and she was too distraught at the time to question the result.

But they have been fooled before. Maybe they were only supposed to think he was dead so they would stop looking for him.

She is so distracted that she leaves her cell phone charging on the kitchen counter, only realizing when she reaches for it in the car to call Skinner. She curses but doesn’t turn around. If he’s not already there when she gets to the hospital, she will call him from a pay phone.

The whole drive to Annapolis, she tries in vain to keep her thoughts in check. Which is more plausible, Dana - that you buried a man you only thought was Mulder, or that the real case of mistaken identity is this one, tonight? Obviously, it is the latter; the nurse only said that “FBI agents” made a positive ID, not that any actual verification had been done. Still, now that it’s taken hold of her heart, there is no suppressing the hope that somehow, against all odds, he is alive.

When she all but runs through the hospital doors and sees Skinner standing in the hallway, she knows. Odds be damned, he’s come back. Mulder has come back to her.

Oh my God.

***

“Tell me it’s true. Tell me.”

The naked hope in her eyes is heartbreaking, and Skinner almost lies to her, almost tells her there’s been a mistake. It would be far kinder to crush her hope here and now, rather than watch her go through the inevitable agony of thinking she’s got him back only to lose him again. Because she will lose him again. Whatever he hoped might happen, bringing Mulder up out of the ground, the man in that hospital bed is never going to wake up.

He can’t lie to her, though. “It’s not what you think.” He frowns. “How did you even find out about this?”

“The admitting nurse called me. She said--” Her voice cracks, and she blinks back tears. “Please, sir. I need to know.”

Skinner clenches his jaw. Part of him wishes he’d listened to Doggett, aborted the exhumation, let sleeping dogs lie. That was never an option, however, and now what’s done is done.

“I got a call yesterday. Fishermen pulled a body out of the water off the North Carolina coast. An autopsy was ordered but called off when the pathologist found… vital signs.” Her eyes widen, and he rushes to get the rest out before she can jump to the wrong conclusions. “The body was later confirmed to be that of Billy Miles.”

She blinks, clearly thrown. “Billy Miles? But they told me--”

“I made a judgment call. One that I’m not sure was right, but I don’t see how I could have done anything different.” Like a coward, he looks away from her face before he continues. “I ordered Mulder’s grave exhumed and his body examined. The same doctor who caught nearly imperceptible vitals in Billy Miles… found the same thing in Mulder.”

“Oh my God,” she whispers, bringing her hands up and clasping them together in front of her mouth.

“Listen to me, Dana. You need to understand… The fact that he’s clinically alive does not mean his prognosis is any better than it was when we found him. The doctors can’t explain how any of this happened, but we don’t have any reason to think he is ever going to walk out of here, okay?”

The door opens behind him, effectively cutting off anything more he might have said.

***

“I have to see him.”

“I know. But I wish you wouldn’t.”

She brushes past him, and Doggett watches her go, more sad than angry but not by much. They agreed not to tell her.

“You made a big mistake calling her, sir,” he mutters as soon as she’s through the door.

“I didn’t call her. The hospital did. Believe me, John, I don’t like that she’s here any more than you do.”

Doggett turns around, and Skinner does look genuinely unhappy. He’s probably not lying about calling her. It’s cold comfort, though. Whoever did the calling, she’s here now, and he doesn’t see this ending any way but horribly. She doesn’t deserve this, damn it. No one should have to endure what she’s already had to go through, let alone what’s coming, but least of all her.

“What did they say?” Skinner asks, and Doggett shakes his head.

“Nothing good. His body is still decomposing, for Christ’s sake. Explain to me how that’s possible.”

“I can’t. It’s just as impossible as everything else about this case.”

“And yet here we are.” Doggett frowns, glancing back at the hospital room door. “We never shoulda dug up that grave.”

“Look, what do you think would have happened once she found out about Billy Miles? There’s going to be a case report on him eventually. Or did you think we could keep that from her forever, too?”

“Maybe!” he says, a little too loudly, then takes a breath and lowers his voice. “Sure as hell would’ve been worth trying. You know, some truths don’t need to come to light, when all they’re gonna do is cause pain for someone who’s already had more than their share.”

Skinner sighs. “I don’t disagree. But I’m afraid that ship has sailed. All we can do now is try to help her through this.”

Doggett shakes his head again. “Honestly, sir? I’m not convinced there’s a single thing we can do to help her through this.”

***

His heart thuds steadily under her ear, evidence of the miracle to which she is bearing witness. It’s a sound she never thought she would hear again, and she thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she has ever heard. Grateful tears slip down over her nose, falling on the fabric of his hospital gown. Whatever happens next, he is here now. Despite all of the odds, he is here, and he is alive.

She imagines a message in the rhythm of the beats.

Scully… it’s me… Scully… it’s me…

#x-files fanfic #txf: deadalive #scullyfic #walter skinner #john doggett #a/n: it's probably a mistake to post this now #amid all of the pre-episode frenzy #buuuuuut i knocked this sucker out in a DAY AND A HALF #which is like #i can't remember the last time i wrote this much this fast #so i'm feeling good about that ;)#here you go folks #deadalive complete #onward to three words :)

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libidomechanica · 3 years

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Mission, cruel

Mission, cruel. In tho could bar,— “now tread the wife,

the restore to follows murmurous vestibule Long fame you make me a part of such grows pale, dreadful guest the sons of death process of thee, and pass for memorial still small grasses. his gulfe. Of merriment and love is of much difference up, and small work boots. In the Revelation of the hot blow tones, newly w as as if a dream of course untains, and he knew what flowery talent their pasture-grounde, sayne, but not Wit, they reposed, when a feast-night, like leavening with love killer, I

am stuffing your fingertips and whisperd in the marke: he has no shame, who, while she went, and

she vanishd pilgrim,—savd by thy song, and foreign

the leave but I lay silent Dead thy high estate has twa sparkling roguish

een. D the time. The widowd wombs after throat shall now by the sang of the door, Out went last

night head, and half-pillar; we saw or know not wet: if it chancd, for such? That I do but the exact use of raungers, which in they were living elf. a wave off a

lesser suctions leap, Arise and see A skylark world, with these women are! and know they grow; the

slope sideburns and more subdued me that now are wild that bed; she moving house, ten time at the two-celled thilke same to ye, my love, renews us, will

be false and not distillation light, a buzzing where I die. D in their sweetness and the bed-side, and shouldst rubies, who has left behind the lyre; but ten years will never growing up; and eyes delight, secure found his just skipp ing in vision—all was but attendants; then thou not but his world my only this

prayer, for goodnes take me gives a heart is dust at the worst allowed

both pleasure is of me: the earth reconciling was, and dead,

from when she spotted by the bosom

undecided whisperingly: him as some sweet hour yield thy name in her solitude, Shared, she flesh, and should die: till heard he turnd, as he did me seek throb with a friendly breath? Where Beauty oersnowd a great disastrous, not a clocks with the pilfering from a dew or dead, shuffling itself wildly and green den through those for Chastisement seemd the shifts and duly seated in

all hoped that the meadows, while: Ah! About the two extremes of a fox, daybreak. Each several prepared, as purple riot: the kelp describe,— that is, if I could so continue. ” The life hath been fire ye known she knelt before than mine ear, from a hook on thee to me but his Demon all he spray; his deuoyr beliue. And mortal eyes are always running by: struck me be; and enticing the last year, David, you so apply, for a look, and ben; Blythe, blythe Beadsman heart in my hand; and I sank supine

beside me, on a thriftless my heart with doubt to a lord, across our outrageous lucky together, still obligingly flow, and fly far in his house and drooping life hath she strong fingered, out of the brag o the warbled place;

and as she but exerted the green leaps to

the shifts and new soil to some will be false to my sight, then I rise, ye soft shade and dull, they must have done forever gone, foul dreamt of mine with a faint reflected seed, O shining. Ill come sailing from a

poisoned cry I should so sweet flutter them leave me deaf and fro with insuffice: nor turn to see and cease to attract his Jenny on his kin and kept, that I cant help their shadows, the sea!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #169 texts

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