#you need like a blessing from gods or sth

[writeshite]

This is my first time requesting sth and it feels weird, okay-

So, for about a week I had that one idea of a Morpheus/Love!Mmmale Reader, Like hes one of the Primordal Gods-> More important than Morpheus and [...]. ON the point. I wanted to ask for an angst to fluff. Like while Morphy is locked or, Reader, who is married to Morpheus, falls asleep and noone can wake him up, so people(and gods too ofc) slowly Loose their love(Love in as the feeling). AND WE ALL NEED LOVE. So when morpheus then wakes up again he goes back home, cant find his Husband he searches evrywhere, He has a lot of canonly flashbacks and stuff blablabla. After a while he visits the Readers Realm and sees that it's also destroyed blublublub he wakes them up and happy end. I just have I writerblock atm...

If u want to u can add smut but idrc '-' Also its just fine if u dint wanna write that. :D

With greetings

~Luce

It Is Better To Have Loved And Lost (Than Never To Have Loved At All)

Summary:

Among the thousands in existence, you chose him. Took his hands and demanded he ignore the ire of your kin, placed a ring on his finger, and declared yourselves wed. “I am Love; my union ascends all others; we need no blessing nor any witness,” Morpheus remembers laughing, head bumping yours as you swayed with him. “My Love….” he whispered to himself, head hanging; he heaved in a breath, glancing up at the harsh light above; surprising himself, Morpheus prayed. He muttered your name, you were a god, you would answer his prayers, but there was no such luck.

Pairings:

Morpheus x Male!Reader

Tags:

Primordial God Of Love Reader | Angst With A Happy Ending | Sleeping Beauty Elements | Reunions | Flashbacks |

Words: 3981

Author's Note:

Welcome, I adore the request, and as usual, went diving through the internet for some of that good ol' ✨research✨ I also spent way too long reading through Greek Myths, but that was just for my own amusement.

The bleak sandy plains of the dreamworld were one of the last things you saw; the domes and expanses you and Morpheus had once spent hours crafting had fallen, shifting to nothingness as the realm died in its primary ruler’s absence. All around the remains of the palace, dreams faded; the nightmares were not spared this fate, their forms dissipating. Lucienne had long since left, possibly in search of another primordial god, one who could perhaps drag you from your stupor and continue your duties. But how could you, your husband, the very being whose love you’d come to crave, was gone. 

The anguish of the waking world without Morpheus sent you diving into the dreaming world; very few gods ever chose to sleep; you’d only done so before to experience what humans did, and now you did so to dream. To dream of your husband. Of his voice. Of his eyes. Of his love. You slept to dream of what you’d been so unfairly robbed of. It had started simple; you’d lie on your side, eyes distant yet thoughts running, then you’d closed your eyes, relaxed your mind, and the thoughts became a nigh reality. His voice close yet far, the memory of his touch a shiver on your skin - the rush of euphoria had sent you falling from the bed. It had only been a few minutes, and your consciousness - the very being of love - had barely left the world unnoticed then, but now? Now you curled away at every chance. Hours became days, then weeks, and soon enough, you went six, maybe seven months sleeping, all the while the world around you withered, love thinning as your mind turned to slumber.

The higher beings were well aware. At first, they hadn't thought much of it, but now they quivered as they turned against each other, hatred seeping into their celestial domains, and what little devotees they had turned away, they came, begging, screaming, crying, but you turned away. They would hound you with pleas, and you would curl the pillow around your head, block them out and walk into the comfort of your dreams. When the Dreaming decayed further, you simply returned to your domain. The Dreaming decayed, but that did not deter you; your own domain - the Gardens - fared no better. The flowers and trees you’d once adored and tilled with Morpheus wilted around you, and a few of the nightmares and dreams followed you, seeking refuge, unknowingly trading one ill fate for another. Their fear, their frustration, your lament, it all soaked into the Gardens; the plants grew, thorns sprouting forth, fruit rotting, and leaves falling; they caged you away. And you rejoiced, welcoming the isolation.

You slid your arms into Morpheus’ coat - the only one you’d managed to grab before they’d all disintegrated - the sky was a starless blanket, and the once abundant wildlife had twisted into nightmarish creatures - cries reminisce of weeping. The blankets lulled you in, warmth loosening your limbs, your eyes drooped, Morpheus’ soft laugh sounded in your head, your arm stretched out along the bed, and you mumbled his name, eyes finally drifting shut. You opened your eyes to Morpheus, the world around you equal parts a dream and a memory - the Gardens as they once were, golden domes polished, outlandish creatures and fantastical plants greeted you. The echoes of the higher beings outside drifted away as Morpheus took your hand, the memory - many happy moments combined - the dream - Morpheus by your side.

“Elegant as always, my love,” his copy spoke, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your eyes softened at the nickname, love, nothing to many, but to between you and him, the greatest declaration, the assertion that your devotion was returned. 

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

The words strung through your ears, never going louder, as they brought your mind serenity, he held you close, and you did your best to return the touch. His form felt empty and unreal, but you did not dwell on it; too much introspection and the dream would fall apart. You drew apart, “Shall we head to the terrace?”

You nod, and the world moves; the terrace comes to you, a table laid set, synthetic food lay waiting, aromas you remembered surround you, and the phantom touch of the sun shone brightly as you dined. Books flew at your command, but their pages held no words, at least none you’d understand - gibberish passages replaced the hymns of Apollo - despite that, you read, remembering what it was meant to be.

Morpheus held out his fork, a piece of cake on end; it tasted of nothing and everything, flavors of cakes from eons gone past, merged with imagination and memory as they danced on your tongue. The tastes of the other foods followed the same pattern, but it mattered little to you. 

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

“My love.”

The echo returned, and you slumped back, thinking of the open foyer in the upper domes; you blinked, finding yourself there. Your head lay in your lover’s lap, his hands combing out the strands of your hair; you began to hum, nothing in particular but your voice carried through. The euphoria returned, imbedded with your love for Morpheus, partial but powerful, your mind drifted into a haze, and you welcomed it.

“Ridiculous,” Morpheus muttered, “Heinous. Betrayal. Blasphemy.”

“We’re going to socialize with others of our kind Morpheus,” you sigh, “not being led to the gallows.”

The endless groans, burying his head in your shoulder blades, he’s still comfortably dressed in his casual attire, whereas you don your signature fit. A pastel neck collar that grew softer as it stretched to your shoulders, parting to showcase your arms, it continued, descending down your body alongside the cape from the collar, slowly morphing into soft feathers at the bottom. Your golden arm braces were heavily detailed in motifs of your domain, and the cloth around your legs began by your belt, split on the sides up to your waist; your legs accompanied your chest, being on full display for all to see. 

“Could we just not stay here?” he asks, and you turn, hands on your hips, and you shake your head.

You open your eyes, smiling to yourself; Morpheus had grumbled about the gathering - fond of very few other cosmic beings - and you’d spent close to a half hour kissing the pout from his face, arriving at the party quite fashionably late. You sat up, finding yourself in the memory of that night, the vision of you and Morpheus, hand in hand, as you spoke to Nyx. Nyx, whose eyes turned to the real you, gaze pitying, “Love —” she called you again, but you shook your head, unwilling for the scene to fade away. She’s swept away, form replaced by memory, the dream is intact again, you enter and dance away the worry. The guilt. And the pain.

Time has no hold here, the only indication of its passing being the interruptions of your kin; Nyx finds her way back in multiple times, star-styled dress drifting behind her. You run, and she chases; you throw what your imagination conjures; sometimes, it’s enough; other times, you have to hide. Her hands always reach out for you, anger and desperation in her gaze.

“Love! Cease these games and awake!” her demand carries over the horizon; you hug your knees; you’re sandwiched among clouds today, watching the primordial night pull at her hair as she searches for you. “Love! Please, we need you, we need Love.”

You place your hand over your ears, lie on your side and bite your lip; her calls die down after the third hour, and you wait another hour before leaving your hiding place. Morpheus appears before you, the copy smiles easy, and you take his hand once more, happy to be free of any disruptions.

Morpheus’ cage allowed him little privilege, his physical form burned at being contained for so long, and he yearned for the Dreaming, his freedom, and you. You, who would lay sweet kisses along his face, tuck a strand of his hair back, and leave a rose in its place. 

“What use do I have for roses?” The flower was devoid of its usual thorns, the petals ruby and soft to the touch, he reached to remove it fully, but you stopped him. Pulling him to sit beside you, you hold his face, tenderly gazing at him, and Morpheus shudders, the adoration surrounding him. 

“They are gifts, testaments to my love,” you’d replied, thumb brushing his cheek, “you so rarely indulge yourself in material possessions; allow yourself this.”

Morpheus smiled to himself; the rose became a fixture in his room, placed in a vase by the bed. You adored leaving flowers in his clothing, little surprises for him to find, something to cheer him up if need be. He’d tried getting you something of equal value, but you’d stopped him, picked him from the ground, and held him in your arms, “I need no other gift than my dream.” His prison has no such luxuries.

“Do be careful, darling,” you’d said to him. 

Morpheus had grinned, “No nightmare could get the better of me, my love.”

“All the same, come back to me in one piece,” you told him, seeing him off with a kiss. 

The last kiss he’d gotten from you, he absent-mindedly reached up to his lips, fingers grazing them; your honeyed aftertaste was fading, as was the usual warmth he felt, the love, it clung uncomfortably around him, as if clinging desperately to this plane. He was thankful to be alone at this moment; what anger he used to mask his despair seemed to slip as he placed his head against the glass of his prison. He traced your name, looping the letters together; he repeated the motion, grounding himself as best he could.

“I love your eyes.”

You’d hold his face ever so lovingly; noses pressed close as you counted the stars you claimed to see. Morpheus would hold you close, head against yours, eyes barely open as you plowed into him.

“I love your voice.”

You liked to hear him speak; the baritone of his voice did wonders when he read to you; you’d work his body as you did the ground, kneading, delving, pulling until his voice grew hoarse and his body became lax.

“I love you.”

Among the thousands in existence, you chose him. Took his hands and demanded he ignore the ire of your kin, placed a ring on his finger, and declared yourselves wed. “I am Love; my union ascends all others; we need no blessing nor any witness,” Morpheus remembers laughing, head bumping yours as you swayed with him.

“My Love….” he whispered to himself, head hanging; he heaved in a breath, glancing up at the harsh light above; surprising himself, Morpheus prayed. He muttered your name, you were a god, you would answer his prayers, but there was no such luck. The love he was adept at sensing was fading, so he sleeps, his only refuge, that which they cannot take from him. He finds himself alone in the dream world; even there, he curls into himself, thinking of you but also of vengeance. 

A century passes, and then another few years before he escapes. Rage is all he feels at first, dissipating only when the younger Burgess is placed under eternal sleep, then its emptiness, uncertainty, and weariness. So long without his tools, he finds himself weak, so long without you, and he finds himself empty. Both leave him feeling uncertain. He returns to the Dreaming to find nothing - no home, no creations, no husband - he finds Lucienne, but she does not meet his gaze at times. When he asks after you, Lucienne grows uneasy, eyes darting and avoiding the question. She teeters on the verge of something, a secret on her tongue, but she says nothing. 

“How do you see through this?”

Morpheus quite liked his helm; having crafted it from the remains of a god, he’d felt proud when he persevered long enough to carve it. “Hang on, I think I’ve got the hang of it now,” you said excitedly. The helm looked out of place on you, but Morpheus paid no mind to that, more focused on the impersonation of him you were performing. You closed your hands behind your back, head high; you deepened your voice and walked forward, “I am the Sandman….” you moved your hands in an arc, fingers spread to emphasize the nickname.

“Are you done?” he asked.

You laughed, pushing the helm up, “Have I offended you, Mr. Sandman?”

“Evidently,” he replied, a small smile on his face; he followed willingly as you dragged him towards you, the helm removed and set aside.

“Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to earn my forgiveness then.”

Lucifer regarded him with mild indifference as he turned to leave; despite the general atmosphere of hell, there was something amiss. Morpheus couldn’t quite put his tongue on it, but the demons and the Lightbringer seemed off, perhaps less emotional than they should be. An odd hypothesis, but “What’s wrong with you?” he asks either way.

“As if you don’t know,” she responded, glaring as if waiting for him to say something. When Morpheus looked at her with confusion, she paused, eyes squinting before she laughed in disbelief, “Come now, Dream King, your games won’t do you any good, not when this affects us all.”

“I don’t understand —”

“Oh, you really don’t know, do you?” She grins wickedly, dismissing him with a wave of her hand; Morpheus leaves hell more confused than when he entered. Retrieving the Ruby leaves him exhausted, and Morpheus becomes acutely aware of a dull feeling, the rush of his powers again covers it, but when he focuses on it, he finds it, the hole in his being; it’s not until his hostile reunion with Desire that he understands what is amiss. Love, there was no love. This became ever more clear as he watched the humans; the park he’d fed birds at wasn’t crowded; the few people that were around seemed robotic; some still moved about as they should, but sometimes, they would stop, as a collective, expressions downcast as if in mourning. The children are perhaps the worst off, some of them cry, and their parents, the adults around them, almost don’t care, numb to their spawns.

“You know then?” Lucienne’s question drew his attention; she stood solemnly beside him, having appeared with another - Nyx, the Night - her usual starry appearance was as empty as a cloudy night sky. 

“I know as much as I knew when I regained my freedom,” he replies, “yet, I know little of my husband. Where is he?”

“In a prison of his own making,” Nyx spoke, voice equal parts exhausted and full of rage, “though I am remiss to consider it that anymore.”

“These cryptic answers give me nothing but headaches,” he grimaces.

Nyx fully turns to him, and Lucienne steps back, the primordial goddess is not one to be angered, but Morpheus has grown weary - every other person he’s come across knows, every single one making it clear it involves you - yet they refuse to explain. 

“It’s best if you see for yourself,” Nyx tells him.

Morpheus remembers the first time he stepped foot in the Gardens, an accident really, at a time when the cosmos was relatively young, you’d been in the midst of ‘borrowing’ a few animals from the early Earth. He remembers how sheepish you’d looked when he’d bumped into you, dinosaur egg terribly stashed away, “I’m preserving them,” you’d defended, clutching the eggs to your person, “besides, Gaia will have them dead in a few millennia, what harm would it do to keep a few?”

You always were handsome, even when thieving things from another’s domain. You’d been caught, of course; Gaia was the more observant of the primordials, but it had been fun, and he’d joined you on many more ‘preservation trips.’ The Gardens had been a sight to behold then; what could have been and what had been grew unhindered, kept beneath your domes and around the domain; they remained forever new, never wilting, nothing like the Gardens he saw now. The entrance was covered in tall thorny branches; wilted, unhealthy roses sprung from them, some reaching out to attack anything that got too close on either side - over that, he spotted movement, the animals you’d once adored had been replaced by monstrosities, their shrieking howls reverberating around him. 

“He’s been asleep all this time? Did none of you think to wake him or check on him?”

“You think we haven’t?! We can’t get past this; the only way I’ve been able to see him is in his dreams, a feat already difficult given your previous predicament,” Nyx seethes at him. “He refuses to wake.”

“No –he wouldn’t —I don’t believe you,” Morpheus turns his back on them.

Lucienne sighs, “Love’s been disappearing in the world; there’s no solution, none that we’ve found —wait!”

Morpheus had slowly been moving towards the branches and, at Lucienne’s call, had climbed over one; he shifted the size of his body, jumping, and ducking over the obstacles, all the while ignoring the warnings from his companions. He stumbled through to the other side; the creatures turned in his direction; Morpheus trekked past them slowly, always sure to keep them in his sight, growing antsy the further he made it into the Gardens. The first attack came from a flying beast, Morpheus had bumped into one of the columns, and the sound seemed to have been enough incentive to launch an attack on the endless. It dug its talons into his sleeve, making off with a good chunk of it when he swatted it away. The ones closer to land pounced at him, claws and teeth ready to make a meal of him.

They bite at his heels, and no amount of sand will put them to sleep. He looks around, mind racing to plan an escape; most of the stairs have decayed, and the only way into a majority of the structures seems to be climbing; he picks one of the lower domes - with broken windows, and a tree already crashed into it, he makes haste, ignoring the gathered animals below him as they reach up. He’s even happier when they don’t follow him, turning their backs, as Morpheus does the same. The interiors are just as altered, portraits covered in dust as vines crawl their way along their frames, and the plants are as twisted inside as they are outside. The carpets curl along their tears; Morpheus notes the silence, the occasional sound from outside coming through.

Your chambers were the only safe haven, unchanged as they were; the doors squealed as he entered. Your body lay beneath the covers, his coat around you, and the curtains drawn shut; the closer he got to you, the less dull he felt. The retreated love was here, amplified tenfold into whatever dream you were in. He shook your shoulder, calling your name, but you remained asleep, snuffling and rolling over, “Darling, please, you must awake,” he tried.

No response.

You smiled, mumbling his name, and snuggling further into the duvet. Dreams, you were trapped in your dreams; you needed to step out from the dreams. Morpheus positioned himself more comfortably, “Sorry for the intrusion,” he says before entering your dream.

He falls. Fast and without control, it takes him a moment to gain it, and when he does, he meets the ground far softer. The world around him is the Gardens as they were; he hears music and heads towards it, but the world doesn’t allow him, it redirects him away, and Morpheus has to assert his control. Vines shoot out to hold him back, but he persists, tripping over them onto a terrace to see you laid back with him, correction an imagined him - the details are near identical, but Morpheus, on account of the mob of beasts, is far more rugged in appearance. 

“Love?” He calls out, and you look at him, surprised to see him; the imagined him vanishes as you stand and back away.

“This is cold, by a lot of standards, this is very cold,” you mumble, “imitating my husband so you can drag me back into the waking world.”

“Imitat —no love, it’s me, I swear,” he reaches out, but you almost flinch, backing away further from him. 

“No, you’re not because he’s not here, he’s gone, and I can’t do a thing about it. So just turn around and leave me be.” He steps closer, and you step back, circling each other and getting nowhere; he reaches out at times but your retreat, using the dream space to keep him away. “You’re persistent; I’ll give you that.”

“I persist because —”

You hold out your hands in a shushing motion, “No, I don’t want to hear it; I’m sick of the fabricated nonsense you’ve all said.” You turn away from him, swinging one leg over the balcony, but Morpheus reaches out, dragging you back by your shirt - you topple into him, landing atop him; you twist around and pin his arms in the air, now thoroughly frustrated. “Why can’t you just fuck off?!”

“Because I want my husband awake,” he replies.

“Stop it! You are not my Morpheus. You’re just some cheap knockoff!” 

He winces when your grip becomes tight, the searing burn of your powers on his arms, “Please love, I swear it’s me,” he pleads, “Look at my eyes, really look at them.” Even with the power of imagination, nothing quite captured Morpheus’ eyes; you squinted your eyes and shook your head, expression morphing away from wrath.

“No, this has to be a trick; I can’t fall for this again; I don’t think I could bare it….” You say, grip becoming loose again. He sits up slowly, wrangling his arms free, your own moving to hold your heads, “....I can’t….please….don’t make me….” you sobbed.

Morpheus calmly moved your hands aside, now holding your face, “Love,” he calls your attention once more when you refuse to meet his gaze, “I assure you, as I live and breath, I am real.” 

“You can’t be; it’s —” you’re still crying, words cut out and muddled as the sobs wracked your body. 

“I am real,” he repeats. Morpheus recites the words as many times as it takes, always keeping your gazes locked; after once such repeat, your hand comes up to his face, thumb rubbing softly against his skin. Your eyes widen, “See,” he says, bringing your hand back and kissing it, “real.” It’s a rush when you collide with him, clinging to him desperately, “Now, will you wake up for me, my Love?”

You shake your head, “What if you’re not there? Even if this isn’t a trick, it could just be me,” you lamented, “me and my madness.”

“No love, I promise, if you open your eyes, I will be there,” he reassures you; you’re closer now; the silver of his eyes shines with determination; he leans closer, “and I won’t ever leave you again.” He closes the gap; at first, you’re in shock, but then you cling to him, hands fisted in his shirt, your eyes shut to the dream and open to the waking world. As he’d promised, Morpheus was there; you reach out hesitantly, and when he is as tangible as he were in the dream, you gasp, gathering him in your arms as he awakes. 

He holds you, placing kisses on your head as you weep happily; you draw back and kiss him. Morpheus feels the overwhelming rush of love; the hollowness is easily filled as he reciprocates, laughs shared between moments as you rejoice in your reunion.

End Note:

I rewrote this like three times before I was happy with it lmao 🤣 Stay Hydrated.

#morpheus x male reader #dream x male reader #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman imagine #shiterequests

[marksbear]

Hello! I was thinking could you do vampire male reader who is also very rich x izzy hands. Since there are not of male yn or trans male yn x izzy hands🥲🥲. So the revenge were getting hunt down by the navy or it can just be another pirate or something else it's actually up to you. so they need to find a place to hide for at least a month or so. They were quite desperate and izzy at first he's just gonna keep quiet but, the crew at this point they were just shouting and paniking and don't know what to do so izzy suggest to go to his "FRIEND" 's house . At first they thought it would be some kind of creepy barbaric pirate village full of dangerous people.

However at this point no one cares anymore so izzy tells the location. When they arrive they were shock because in front of them is a huge mansion by the sea. Even tho they are still shock they follow izzy inside and there they were greeted by yn with a big smile on his face when he see izzy( yn has a pale skin due to vampirism with the reader eyes color hair color) . They were even shocker when yn kiss izzy cheak. Izzy just got red, brush it off and said that they are just friends however Black beard glare at yn with an unpleasing look on his face. Yn welcome them and inside and after explaining the situation, they just kinda chill around the mansion asking question of how izzy met yn ( yn said that he met izzy when he is in the navy which is a lie)(izzy is actually a sacrifice for yn because izzy's old village thinks that yn is a god and give izzy to yn so yn can bless them with luck, rain, wealth etc.) and how they got together. At the end of the day they all went to bed. But edward and lucius were curious of yn. How did yn even care to look or even took interest in izzy due to that they met when izzy is just a navy, why is yn skin so pale like he's sick or sth. Ed and lucius bump into eachother and decided to go look around the place. Then they see someone. Y/N bitting on izzy's hand with his sharp fang gently drinking the blood that comes out ,asking why havn't izzy wrote anything to him, kissing him , and cuddling izzy. Then when ed and lucius is about to leave or well escape cuse yn is not normal and seem to be a creature stede used talk about. A blood sucking monster aka vampire. They both made eye contact with yn. While being frighten to the spine. Yn raise his finger to his mouth and make a silence hand gesture.

Ofc. You don't have to do it cus it would probably be really long . Anyways thank-you🥰

Yeah I got this BUT it's probably gonna miss a few details since it's a lot to fit into one story! WARNINGS! Vampire reader, FTM READER, Talks about sacrifice, Mentions of God. Powers

Izzy hands x Ftm vampire reader

The revenge was on the run. Stede had somehow angered five different pirate ships and now it's chaos on the ship. Everyone on board trying to figure out ideas trying to live another day.

"WERE ALL GONNA DIE!!" Frenchie screams while running around on the front deck. Wee John silently agrees with Frenchie's comment and that single comment started even more chaos on the ship. The two captains argue with one another while scrambling across the ship trying to defuse the chaos so they can both try to get out of this situation.

Lucius and Black Pete spots their distant first mate mumbling something under his breath. The pair assumes its insults so Lucius pipes up "What are you doing first mate dizzy?" The deck becomes silent with only a few giggles that can be heard. "Yeah iggy, did you have something to say?" Black Pete says with a smirk.

The first mate grumbles something from under his breath and repeats what he said "I said I have a friend we can stay at for a few months..." His voice became softer after he said the friend part and also his cheeks became a small shade of pink that no one noticed. The crew starts to celebrate and Izzy tells buttons were to go to the "friend" house.

It only took a few hours to get there, but once they reached land Izzy stopped them. "Alright hold." He turns around and looks over the crew to see if they look good enough. Once he decides that they look decent the only person who had to leave something was buttons and he had to leave the bird.

"Okay you cunts better be on your best behavior! No foolin around okay!"Izzy shouts at the crew. The crew agrees and they get back to walking. Once Izzy sees the huge mansion he shouts "Were here!" Izzy rolls his eyes at all of the gasp and whispers.

They all walk up to the house and Izzy knocks the door two quiet knocks and one loud one. The crew all looked among themselves when they heard the strange sequence. Their heads snap forward as the door opens with a small gasp they heard from outside the door.

"YOU CAME!!! You finally came back Israel!!" All of the crew looks confused at the stranger that skips towards their first mate and wraps their arms around the first mate's shoulders. Ed and Stede change their sights on the stranger and towards izzy who has a small smile on his face and a faint blush.

Stede turns his vision back at the stranger and looks at what he's wearing. He lets out a gasp when he sees the stranger's pale skin,long white fingernails, and weird in-human eyes. The stranger is wearing silk black pants with a rich robe but it's untied and loose on his shoulders and he takes note of the stranger's chest that has scars under both pecs. And he decided to ask later.

"Hello izzy" The stranger says to Izzy with the biggest smile on his face and the stranger places a kiss to Izzy check right on the tattoo and Izzy face becomes a deep red. Izzy whispers into something into the stranger's ear while he ties the stranger robe so the crew can stop gawking at him.

The stranger turns around and faces the crew with a small smile. " I am Y/n l/n, you all are in my care it's a pleasure to meet all of Izzy's crew he tells me that y'all are in danger so please" Y/n signals them to follow inside and they all do "Please don't touch anything!" Y/n shouts sincerely. Y/n gives them a tour of the house and tells his maids to get their things sorted. And tells some of the chefs to prepare a feast for his guest.

Once everything was done they all went into the dinning table and took their seats. Some of the crew were surprised that some of the maids would bow their heads at Izzy and some even called him "Master Hands" and Izzy would just wave them off.

"So how did ya meet?" Edward says looking at you and Izzy sitting right next to each other having each other yall's own conversation. "We met in the navy" the lie just slides off of y/n tongue and Izzy side eyes him knowing that he just lied but decides to not say anything. Y/n goes on about how he met Izzy in more detail and that seems to please the crew.

"If i may ask how'd you get the scars?" Stede interrupts Y/n story and causes Izzy to snarl at Stede and opens his mouth to defend Y/n but Y/n raises his hand to izzy to stop him from stabbing Stede. "It's nothing really. In the navy i was in a life or death situation and I had to get something out. So I did and got these scars from it" Y/n says with a smile. In his defense it wasn't a full lie. He was going insane from being a woman so he decided to get them removed. His father was supportive of him and decided to help with the removal.

Ed was sending death glares at you and it was obvious you saw them and smirked. So Y/n used one of his powers to speak into Ed's mind taunting him that he'll lose Izzy to you forever. And that made him do an outburst yelling at y/n calling him the devil. Which caused him to smirk but hide it and act like he was hurt from his words and yelled at everyone that the "dinner was off go into your rooms!" And grabbed izzy hand taking them upstairs.

TIMESKIP EVERYONE SUPPOSE TO BE SLEEP

Izzy And Y/n was in their shared room together with scented canals that lit the room so it looks warm and fancy. The pair was on the couch discussing what happened with their lives to the other while they were apart. "Does that idiot of a village still believe that you're a god?" Izzy asked while caressing Y/n naked chest. The question makes Y/n giggle and nods "yes my love, be thankful that my followers brought you to me as a meal. If not we wouldn't be like this now" Y/n answers with kissing izzy on the neck. "May I love?" Y/n looks at Izzy for permission. "It's been way too long without your sweet taste my boy." Y/n licks Izzy's neck but whines when he gets pushed away. "No neck today my god, you can do my hand instead." Y/n lets out a silent pout but doesn't argue and takes Izzy's hand and kisses and licks the vein and sinks his fangs into the flesh. The taste of his mate's blood makes him moan and sucks more. He pauses for a minute and looks back up at Izzy "Have you been getting my letters? Why haven't you written back? Wh-" Y/n gets cut off "Stop being a twat and just eat, we'll talk about this later." Izzy huffs. Y/n silently agrees and gets back into his meal. After a couple of more seconds Y/n eyes shoot up at the door frame and see Blackbeard and Lucios standing there with their mouth wide open looking terrified. Y/n hand signals them to be quiet and speaks threats into the pair's mind. Y/n eyes glow at them and use his power to slam the door shut.

Y/n lets go of Izzy hand and looks at him with a bloody smile "im so glad you came back to your god."

#our flag means death #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands x male reader #x male reader #x vampire male reader #the bear club #ofmd izzy hands

[lossie92]

Madara and baby Kagami~

I'm working on a little fix-it project. It's a short chapter fic where Madara raises Kagami and it ends up saving him from madness. If all goes well, I should be able to post it soon 🤞

EDIT: Here's the story, in case anyone's interested 😉

#madara uchiha #kagami uchiha #madara #fanart #naruto fanart #drawing kids is hella hard #you need like a blessing from gods or sth #but he cute #founders era #naruto au #redemption arc #fix it au #pencil on paper #traditional art #lossie draws

[gaystcr]

filmmakers don't despair your films will never contain anything even REMOTELY as stupid as the plot twist in war (2019)

#war (2019) #spoilers in tags #homoerotic military propaganda tastes so sweet in the morning #i was reminded of my hate for this specific plot element yday when shrew rb'd sth ghsnaf sorry shrew if you're reading this #i fuckinf hate the plot twist god bless what the fuck is that and ppl lorded this as a good movie #they could have gone the route of khalid fighting his internal battles of needing to prove himself bc of his father's past #and kabir and his way of martyrdom that he has chosen and starts to regret after meeting khalid/naina/ruhi #but instead ??? instead khalid gets secretly killed off in the first half and u bring saurabh back and then they SOMEHOW #use PLASTIC SURGERY to transform saurabh's face into khalid's and FOR WHAT ??? #like what is this MESSAGE LMAO like WHAT . #like why ruin all this character development for literal shock value like WHY WAS KHALID'S CHARACTER NECESSARY AT ALL #to bring back a RANDOM irrelevant character like saurabh like what is this story ABOUT? #this movie is so stupid it makes me so angry lmao #the only good thing that happened after the plot twist that i can remember in my haze of fury was when kabir was beating saurabh up & going #'i won't let you die with this face.' like yeah !! khalid did nothing wrong! #and if saurabh comes back in a potential sequel i will ACTUALLY develop homicidal tendencies (for legal purposes im joking) #anyway the only way i will ever watch a sequel if it comes out is if khalid somehow mysteriously returns from the dead god bless #in my head kabir & khalid are alive and well and are taking ruhi out for surfing in australia bless

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

[janiedean]

First off, I'm a HUGE fan of I'll be the frosting to your cupcake, one of the first fics I reread and a comfort fic staple of mine from the on.

Having said that, I recently learned English isnt your first language, and I'm shook. How do you write in such a flowy ample vocabulary precise english? Are you half British or sth? Have you live outside of Italy? What's your secret? What are your tips, please help a sister in need!

first of all thank you so much you're too kind ;v; and I'm really happy that it's been... ALMOST TEN YEARS and it still holds up ;v;

that said hahaha well I'M VERY HAPPY I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY MASTERED THE POWER OF NOT MAKING IT KNOWN ENGLISH IS NOT MY MOTHER TONGUE MUAHAHAH but in all seriousness:

no I'm not half british, my aunt was a high school english teacher but that was it and she definitely didn't speak english to me growing up beyond giving me the basics

no I haven't lived outside Italy just been on vacation in english speaking places so those two guesses aren't correct but

take into account that I'm 33 and I started learning english srsly when I was like twelve and I started writing in english when I was.... nineteen going on twenty so the way I write now is because I pretty much wrote in english nonstop since then, obviously whatever I wrote in 2007 had a worse vocabular/wasn't as good as it is now so count that a lot of that is practice

now basically i know it'll sound like ARE YOU SERIOUS but: I learned first translating songs by hand which meant I spent two years with a vocabulary translating bruce springsteen's and bon jovi's opera omnia that I had booklets for (YES THE INTERNET WAS ON 56K I HAD THE DAMNED LYRIC BOOKLETS RIP) and that.. I mean it didn't give me the widest vocab ever but it got me started, and then I jumped the bridge and started reading in english at.... eh I was 15 but like I got into stephen king, read a few of his books in italian, then got one I already had in italian in english for kicks and realized it... was better not translated so I swallowed the whole OH GOD I WON'T UNDERSTAND 1/5TH OF THE WORDS thing and went for it and like I can 100% assure you that if you get through the dark tower's second book and the indecent level of nyc slang in it you won't ever go back

(then being a masochist I went straight for steinbeck and if you manage the grapes of wrath at the level I was you're good X°D)

now like... that shows because every single time I take english tests like HOW DO YOU PRONOUNCE WORDS/WHAT IS YOUR WORDING CHOICE/WHAT DOES YOUR WRITING SOUND LIKE I without fail get as results that I pronounce like someone from new jersey/pennsylvania and I use words like someone from maine and that I read like king which... LIKE I LEARNED 95% OF MY ENGLISH on all of that so that makes sense

now the thing is after king I basically went like okay if that writer's english or writes in english I'm not checking the translations so basically I've read in english for twenty years and like... if you want to write you have to read and like I swear that when I was in high school I didn't need to open grammar books beyond the basics or actually study english at all bc having actually read stuff I like... having seen the word/expressions used on paper meant I knew how to use them so there was that but like the point is that if you read a lot your vocabulary automatically gets wider and if you see how published people you like write that helps you too because it gives you the background, makes you see how people break the rules etc

with this I mean... like you know everyone is like YOU HAVE TO WRITE SHORT SENTENCES IN ENGLISH UNLESS YOU'RE A CLASSICAL AUTHOR OR YOU'RE WRONG? okay like I always struggled with it bc I tend to be long-winded, then one day I ran into michael chabon who not only has the kind of refined vocab I can only dream of, but he also has no issue dropping six-lines long sentences (or a 12 pages stream of consciousness of a parrot without a dot bless him) and he won a pulitzer prize and while I am certainly not michael chabon and I can only dream of being 10% as good when it comes to that mix of craft, if he can do that then who stops me from six-lines sentences? yeah, no one XD

and I mean like... just to say one re how you re-elaborate things, the whole thing I do with using parentheses on another new line to say how characters are feeling or switch pov for a moment etc etc is a thing I absolutely lifted from king bc when I read him doing it I decided it was genius, but like at some point I started doubling or tripling the parentheses if I wanted to show what someone was thinking superficially and subconsciously which is a thing king doesn't do but at some point it happened and I liked it so I did it, and that's like the only conscious example I can give you but like you develop your style also based on what you like reading and what comes easy to you but that's things you find out through practice and again... if you like specific writers most likely it'll show up in your writing but that's fine everyone has their role models

also like... I personally don't gaf if supposed english tradition says I can't do something I'd do writing in italian ie abusing semicolons and long-winded sentences, like... if you're good at specific thing that your language allows and english doesn't don't gaf and write it in english anyway who cares

tldr the tips are: read a lot in english, consume a lot of media in english, practice a lot because you get better/get the hand of it with time (again if you read my lost fanfic on lj written in 2008-2011 it's nowhere near the same level as what I write now but not even the stuff I wrote in my spn days is at the level I am now etc), read a lot also in your own language or in any other you know, write as much as you can, if you feel like you're copying your favorite writer don't gaf and go ahead anyway at some point you'll sound like you and not like whoever your fave writer is and be constant because again 50% is reading a lot and 50% is practice, I know it sounds like the discovery of hot water but I swear I managed that without living anywhere else and only reading/writing/talking to people on the internet so... it does work X°D

<3

#ask post #walterwitch #janie rants

[rinharu-purple]

Twitch Session with Joe Zieja

...was fantastic and I loved every single moment of it!

For the ones who missed this spectacle, here are couple of my notes and one of the vids I took with miserable quality (sorry, I couldn’t do any better)

Joe told us that he originally went to audition for Lucien and Gavin. HE was so nice to dig up his audition tapes for us and played them online!

Here is the Gavin one :

Even Joe admits that he sounds like Kiro in this one, so cheery and happy ^_^ But Gavin was very serious at the beginning, so it doesn’t fit at all!

His tape for Lucien on the other hand WAS very Gavin-like! No wonder he then got the job :)

And then he started to try to play the game and boy he was so overwhelmed and confused haha! He was bombed by all the random company names. Don’t believe me? Here is the video Joe took and posted on twitter.

The first two stages of CH1 has gone missing, so he started by the Victor and Kiro scenes and get this...Even though he probably doesn’t remember his own line, as Victor saved MC from the car, he instinctively said something like “Mr. Diskin?! I thought I would be the one saving with the wind and such” 

Remember the line “Victor? I never thought he would save you like that”. Yeah :)

He really had a hard time to understand the concept of Evol and didn’t even know the other guys also had Evols. Goddemmit Joe haven’t you ever checked the posters of the game or sth?

He was like :”Is Kiro’s Evol love? Like, he looks in the eyes of people and command -love me!-?” Hilarious.

When Lucien’s moment came he was really surprised by Bill's  “Lucien voice”. But then saw the blackboard scene and said MC should get out because Joe also found the scene quite disturbing.

But let’s be honest, it IS a creepy scene. # creeplucien (no worries a Lucien appreciation post is on the way)

Interestingly, he was quite nonchalant, when Gavin’s scene in CH1 popped up. He didn’t comment much on it.

Unfortunately before cH1 was finished he was hit by the true MLQC experience by a neverending, ever freezing game update hahahahah :D He restarted it twice or thrice, but to no avail.

While waiting for the update to “not” run, Joe played a fun game with us, in which he came up with spontaneous pick-up lines to viewers’ scenarios and hell they were some extraordinary ones like “You sneeze into her face and because of you Evol, MCs skirt is flown away, how do you make up for that?”. His answer was...

Don’t say “bless you”. I already am ;)

Another scene was about being attacked by ducks, I believe, and he dropped a dad joke here by:

I won’t back down (you know, as in duck’s feathers)

I don’t know what the other ones were, but his answers were:

With me, you don’t need a second take (he said it is a rather insider joke for the VAs)

The funniest one was when someone asked about a scene where a masked “childe” kept throwing logs into the fire, but Joe didn’t know the word, so he tried to come up with something in a scenario in which a masked “child” kept throwing logs into the fire. He was sooooo lost at that moment :D

But he tried hihi ^_^

There was a very sexy cop reference at some point and it actually came from a viewer. Unfortunately I forgot how it went, sorry :/

At the end he made a quick Q&A session and to my luck, he answered my question!!! 

I asked him, if he checks the Chinese dub beforehand or if he checked any of the coming ASMRs, because...in case you don’t know...I live for that sh*t.

It turns out, he doesn’t. He only checks them in terms of synchronization:

Fun fact: His director’s name is Stephanie Amber...That can’t be coincidence :)

Fun fact: This stream is the most watched one on his Twitch channel hitherto.

At the end we all raided Sean’s twitch and bombarded it with “Let Kiro eat chips” comments. I tell you that... he wasn’t expecting it...AT ALL!!! But was very delighted by it and he even showed us his cat whose name is PANDA?! God so many parallels, I can’t even :D

All in all it was a great experience with Joe and the fellow Gavin-stans and it made me appreciate once again, how blessed we are as Gavin-stans. I mean, even our VA takes the time to talk to us and play the game with us. How great is that? I hope from the bottom of my heart that he does it again.

Btw. Joe mentioned that Bill also talks about Lucien from time to time, so I guess I will look more into that.

Anyway dear fellow producers. These were my notes from yesterdays’ event. I am pretty sure that I forgot many lines, jokes, moments etc. But I hope  you could at least get a sense of it by reading this.

Don’t be sad if you’ve missed it. Joe is going to publish the whole thing on his youtube channel soon and it is already available on his Twitch channel, so that everyone can catch up :)

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #mlqc bai qi #mlqc baek gi #koi to producer #mr love queen's choice #Twitch #Joe zieja #We blessed Gavin stans #Speaking to the VA? #Good times #Voice acting

[pilotheather]

EDIT: MY READMORE DIDTN WORK

- NO NOW HANG ON HANG ON.... OPENING THUS FAR IM ACTUALLY LOVING IT. I KNOW ITS TOO SOON BUT IM FEELING SOME PERSONALITY FROM THEM FOR ONCE AND I LOVE THE CHEESINESS THAT ISNT TOO... BECH AS IT WAS

- and the evil yorkshire guy

- AGAIN THIS IS ONE I-

- OH THATS ONE FUCKED UP LOOKING FELLA I -

- Hiiiyaa whos these cuties

- anyways my point: theres just sth off sometimes with the way chibs writes dialogue. like the doctor just asking things loudly whilst ic it just feels so fucking weird sometimes .

- also i did sneak a look into twitter livetweets. someone literally saI-

- OH MY GOD THIS BITCH SPIKE OH WAIT THAT KINDA LOOKED SICK FINE

- BITCH LOOKING LIKE A RIGHT CREATURE

- ANYWAYS people on twitter: "why is it so cheesy" girl you are watching doctor who?

- again witht he dialogue: you see that. theres something out there. WHY DOES IT ALWAYS SOUND SO STILTED SOMEHOW? IS IT LIETERALLY JUST ME?

- anyways also that "trick or treat" thing ok thats a bit too cheesy that one i'll concede bless but THATS IT

- dan he is literally holding eggs

- also regarding some dwcourse: people are whining about d

- I'M THROWONG UP DAN ..... KN-

- IKARAVNISTA

- HIIIII KARVANISTA HAIIIII HI HI HIHIHIHIH HI HELLO KARVANISTA HIIII HIIII HI I LOVE YOU KARVANISTA I LOVEEE UOI HIIII HI HI KISS KISS SHII AWWW WHOS A GOOD LITTLE PUPPY WHOS A GOOD LITTLE BOY GOOCHY GOOCHY GOO LITTLE PUPPY WAWWW DO YOU WANT A TREA-

- dan im insane

- YOU PUT HIM IN A CUBE?

- YOU YA MAM'D THE DOG, DAN?

- ANYWAY regarding the dwcourse about bishop: ive said my shit about me not wanting a new guy, even if i do LIKE dan thus far, BUT. i will say ppl are so silly for complaining about when they hire celeb actors and say the shows gone to shit. girl..... billie piper the popstar? catherine tate the comedian? even kylie minogue was like. such a good one off casting .

- GIRL HIS HOUSE?

- now why cant i smash some shit up with a hammer, say something kinda foreboding, whilst wearing a funky sweate

- a dog shot me how can a dog shoot me

- dan really is having an unlucky fucking day isnt he.

- karvanista my good little boy n'aww wwhos a good little pup dont be mean to dan

- karvanista: im going to kill you im g dan: bet

- "oh my god! doctor!" "who tf." OKAY COOL. HIII CLAIREEEEEE

- more women wacking things with hammer. thats exactly what doctor who needed in my opinion.

- GIRLIGHT GASLIGHT GIRLBOSS

- like are yaz and doc good though for real girlies cant we all just kiss about it hm

- oh so theres just an angel here now. hi . also unhappy about the decision to put you here but nonetheless- oh christ is she about t BYE CLAIRE.

- outpost rose?

- VINDER VINDER VINDDER HIII HIIIII HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHHI (TWIRLS HAIR) I JUST THINK HES CUTE.... TEE . HEE.

- OH NOW THERES NO FELLA I LOVE MORE THAN A KING STUCK OUT ON SOME OUTPOST, WITH A LOG, REPORTING PRETTY MUCH NOTHING FOR DAYS AND DAYS IN ISOLATION

- "whats wrong with sheffield"

- "lifes a gamble" i do like her now

- NOW THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I MEANT BTW: YAZ HAS HAD MORE CHEMISTRY WITH DAN IN THAT 2 MINUTES THAN SHE EVER GOT WITH GRAHAM OR RYAN. because YOU ACTUALLY LET THEM TALK TO EACH OTHER!!!

- i knew karvanista wasnt a bad guy. hes just a little grumpy puppy. n'aww.... sniff sniff. hes just trying to help u guys. why dont u want a little trip with the grumpy little puppy.

- is the tardis literally good

- IM THROWING UP WHY IS HIM SAYING "i cant live in that :/" WHEN BEING HANDED HIS TINY STUPID HOUSE OK... ITS FUNNY FINE ITS TICKLING ME FINE

- why- OHUGHGHGHGH LUMPS MY LUMPY LITTLEB MEN

- OHHHFHFHH

- YOU LOOK LIKE ABSOLUTE SHIT "you look disgusting"

- the sontarans actually being used properly we do hope i would like to see it :3

-again christ why do they have to do the doctor is in the centre of all of this like why cant there just be a problem and she drops in and helps for goodness shakes

- FOR GOODNESS SHAKES I DIDNT MEAN TO SAY THAT BU-

- W.... WAS THAT A PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM

- YOU LITERALLY stood up

- girl what is happening

- GIRRLLL WGAT

#egg.txt #flux liveblog

[duesternis]

@elyksina asked me to answer all the questions in the “hi, I’m not from the US” ask game, and who am I to deny them that pleasure?

find the original post here

1. favourite place in your country? → the north sea coast

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? → sadly I haven’t travelled much so far, but there are many places I want to see, both abroad and in my country.

3. does your country have access to sea? → YES, god bless. one and a half seas even (the baltic bathtub is barely a sea, fellas, I’m sorry to say)

4. favourite dish specific for your country? → öhmmmmmm.... Mettbrötchen? strikes me as very german (tm)

5. favourite song in your native language? → Ich will brennen - ASP [listen here]

6. most hated song in your native language? → too many to list, but i really don’t like anything by adel tawil and zweiraumwohnung. also like schlager... pls miss me with that. xavier naidoo get wrekt

7. three words from your native language that you like the most? → Sehnsucht, Vorfreude, Traum (these were chosen very randomly off the top of my head, but they are all gorgeous)

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? → people at work often believe I have a eastern european heritage, and funnily its most often people from eastern europe themselves who believe that. But I’m as kartoffelig as they come.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? → France, I think.

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? → Wixer is one i use very often. Hurensohn also.

11. favourite native writer/poet? → my favourite writers are Juli Zeh and Wolfgang Herrndorf. i can’t say that i have a favourite poet.

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? → I actually don’t partake in stuff like that, cause I’m afraid of it being bad lol. But when I see sth on my dash by chance (most often rilke, somehow, the americans seem to like him a lot) i’m like :/, cause it doesn’t seem as ~profound~ in english as it does in german. I’m a bit pretentious like that and enjoy things in their original language where i can.

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? → probably? but nothing specific comes to mind? fellow kartoffelpeople help me out here lol

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? → No ♥

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? → Jetzt mal Butter bei die Fische? also like MAHLZEIT!!

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? → hate it when people say german is an ugly language. it’s a gorgeous piece of work. Have to say I kind of agree with the stereotype that  germans are standoffish. We take some time to warm up to people.

17. are you interested in your country’s history?→ a decent amount i’d say, but I’m no historybuff

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? → thanks to moving around a lot as a kid, not really? bits and pieces of flavour in my manner of speaking, but all of it is kind of affected.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? → they are okay? Bundesgeier my beloved.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? → fußball

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? → Nazis? Weizenbier.

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? → I’m german, I’m not proud about my country. I’m german, I’m ashamed about all the shit the people have pulled and still pull.

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?→ BIER ♥ (although wiezenbier can go die in a ditch)

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? → Poland, I think? But france gets it’s fair share too

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? → Not really? there are many upsides to being born and raised in germany. (healthcare ftw)

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? → yes, and I’m not too happy about it mostly. not everyone needs to be an evil scientist (often shown loaded with antisemitic propaganda) or a nazi. Or a Bavarian for that matter. It’s very old stereotypes that Hollywood operates with and there are very seldom portrayals that seem untouched by them. I have my hopes on the future though. Younger and more liberal filmmakers shall do better by all nations, I hope.

27. favourite national celebrity? → I don’t know that many national celebrities, actually? I’m not hip with the kids and all that goes on lol

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? → all of the above, yup. And I don’t have a favourite, not really. I’m an ocean person through and through.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? → I live in a city that’s divided by a river, you can imagine the rest. But since I wasn’t born here I don’t give a shit.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? → Not that I know off

#azzy gets asks #sort of at least #THERE YOU GO ELENORA I HOPE YOUR CURIOSITY IS SATISFIED!!! #this was fun hehe #copy and pasted one answer and translated another one from when keeks asked me some qs

[seoafin]

jjk & tower of god chapter on the same day,,, i spent all of my brainjuice talking abt tog w some friends + working on my wip so this one might be incoherent LMAO but nsjdhfjd this my 2 cents for the chp (1) - 🐱

first of all, the zenins shld just eat shit 🥰 the bar is just nonexistant now 😭😭😭

also maki’s mother said sth that hits way too close to home for me too🥴

the maki & mai, megumi & tsumiki "make a place where they are happy” parallels...mai,, maki wanted a place where u'd be happy!!! 😭😭😭 good points abt any interesting nuances the original jpn might have had though

ALSO MUSCLE MAKI IS HERE

and lmao megumi's "ew no" face ,,, i didn't think he could make a face like that JDJJDJD ,, once again i think his outsider-insider status is interesting but the amount of ppl counting on him/leaning on him bc of strategic position is a lot. ig this is what kamo meant by supporting the 3 families,,,, gojou indeed is playing the long game. megumi in the meantime, very persistent in not getting more involved in clan politics, not using power that is offered to him, or leveraging it - in a way it is good, and it also makes sense with "stress is other ppl" but is interesting from a structural pov. megumi may not rly give a shit abt the rest of the jujutsu world. if the ppl close to him are affected, then he cares. otherwise, forget it.

also im interested in power implications here bcs it sound a little like there’s a slight split b/w leadership and everyday zenins and im curious what it's like if u have no connection to the top of the clan,, and again higher ups being unaffiliated with the 3 clans so they have to appeal to them. curious what other talents the gojou clan have and what they're known for bc clearly it's not just gojou, they still have power without him and still have a stake in the shifting power structure. kamo must be busy too...

MAKIIIIII ,,, honestly my heart hurts a little seeing her getting beat up in recent chapters. but i’m rly happy,, shes FINALLY getting the focus she deserves and i’m confident she will make a recovery and she IS in fact the one leading efforts on the zenin side. im rly hopeful she can take over the clan one day and no longer say she's not good enough

that stomach wound is bad news though so im wondering how she will come back from that,, that she didn't know her own father's abilities says a lot, too. i wonder if she could see the extension of his blade, or if she hasn't been able to see/understand many ppl abilities

im hopeful for next chp now. u can do it maki!!!!

flashing back on these bits, it makes more sense now why megumi wasn't melting down post-shibuya,, seems most information came to him in a sort of timely and calm way? also i rly have to wonder if gojou did not spend a decade plotting in front him bcs he's done it before,,,, like the whole clan head scene in megumi's middle school years....in a way i imagine he wouldve seen that gojou come out of the high school and watch him get more serious as he acquired even more skin in the game

all the time though i wonder abt megumi's tendency toward inertia and nonaction to things that would seemingly give him power and trying to understand it and that IS him being selfish and that IS,, imo the biggest indication of what he actually does or doesn't want. he wants it, he will act and work on it immediately himself. he doesn't like it? act like it doesn't exist. it make me want to shake him around like NO!! megumi pay attention!!! But his reaction to this clan stuff is a contrast to his behavior in recent chapters imo

and more mahjong references,,, between this and yuuji’s pachinko,, i wonder abt the undercurrent of gambling haha. a gamble for the shaman world and who will come out on top? a contrast to the flowy ocean imagery that connects shaman stuff out to the rest of the world

also this ,,,, there's that one jp tweet (i cant find it again😞) that talks about how toji, as the point of distortion, created megumi, who is currently playing a potential convergence/healing/uniting role (if he actually takes it on as a responsibility lol) and connects this back to the medicine buddha,,, whose mudra (hand sign) is used for chimera shadow garden. with the commentary abt ppl with heavenly restriction needing to know what to throw away in order to become strong or tap into their full strength and toji’s commentary at the end of fight with gojou,,  i actually always felt that toji died not having been entirely resolved with himself bc he talks abt going against the self that decided to forget abt self-respect, to live without thinking abt himself or others,,, in a way, living selfishly, for himself, by ignoring anything immediate and i think he succeeded for a while bc he didnt even remember megumi's name. he remembers it when he talks to getou abt him being thankful for toji not killing him bc of potential drawbacks

and at the very end he thinks of megumi again and that last act does think of someone else, like a "life before your eyes" moment where toji thinks about how the zenin's treatment of him led him there or how his return to shibuya ends with him remembering how he gave megumi back to the zenin,,, i think atm of his death he was starting to think he did want to care, in a different way, or that he needed a different paradigm. or,, maybe he was just starting to realize how far the zenin thinking had set into him

so we dont rly talk abt that being an enlightenment moment for toji but i kind of think it was. that megumi has the potential to become a pivotal piece as a legacy of distortion is interesting. i dont actually think toji set up everything intentionally bc he didnt know megumi's ability, and i dont think he wouldve thought that far. i think a lot of the heir and inheritance stuff is sth naobito set in after seeing megumi's development under gojou. it's clear now everyone has been keeping eyes on everyone else

at some point there's some interesting discussion to be had abt megumi and privilege - i'm surprised the canon characters dont hate him more for having stuff just fall into his lap, and so i liked that maki pointed this out that he could use this and he shld bc theres a frustration there - and yet at the same time megumi himself seemingly feels very little attachment to the zenin and the shaman world still. he just cares abt his little circle of people, and it's a very intentional choice, based on his good/bad ppl thing

u cant really affect the entire world, but u can assert urself on the environment around u and decide what u do and dont act on. this part of megumi is more teenage boy and kind of toji-like, i think,,, hence the emphasis on action

u express ur effect and existence through action, who u kill or who u save. toji having very little, while so much falls into megumi's lap while he doesn't want it, doesn't want to acknowledge it, likely doesn't want to take part in a system he doesn't like or, having been raised under gojou's wing, resents or finds corrupt or useless, or doesn't even think on bc he thinks its above his pay grade and gojou's there - this is also megumi's moment to solidify his own direction and commit to working in the system or out of it

the "not caring" is a defensive measure in a way too, i think. i dont think megumi is Big Good and wants to save everyone and everything and the world to be good and pure, i tend to think of him as a resigned chaotic neutral, who wishes he could be good orz

ANYWAY i think there's some interesting juxtapositions with the whole toji > megumi thing, that someone who is born without, restricted, births and creates someone full of blessings. its very shaman-like, action then reaction

AND i wish u luck on ur final paper (bless ur eyes to see incels bc i’ll just log off for the day when i saw one (1) of them on the net) AND DONT FORGET TO TAKE A REST,, the self care is much needed me thinks <333 (2) - 🐱

i love u 🥺🥺😭😭😭 you take care of yourself too!!!

also ur right...all this political intrigue im so curious i need to know how the jujutsu world is structured in terms of the higher ups and the clans. like i assumed that the three clan elders WERE to some extent also part of the higher ups???? but now it seems that the higher ups are a separate entity altogether, so like checks and balances i suppose. except both the higher ups and the clans are corrupt so no balance there 😭

the chapter implied the zenins are losing when it comes to the power struggle between the three clans. im interested. i want to see them all rot!!! like i also said though it’s going to be interesting to see the state of the kamo clan though, considering “noritoshi kamo.” like what do you even say to that???? im going to be surprised if it doesn’t affect their standing in the jujutsu world but then again the kamo clan IS one of the big three.

megumi really is a character that was blessed in all regards but like. doesn’t want anything to do with it LOL he really said ‘this is a pain no thanks.’ like gojo like megumi i suppose. i agree with u the whole toji and megumi set up....genius....i also love their juxtaposition. it’s so interesting and another source of irony.

#MAKI THOUGH......MAKIIIIIII #that stomach wound was worrying tbh at first i was like??? what is that panel even. but now.......ughhhhhh #🐱 anon

[davidjjohnston3]

The trees are straight and true here, and the help comes without seeming harpoons.  I considered some insane things which were ‘above my pay-grade’ and as is my wont reflected on the state and implications of my former profession and what old friends and pharons meant to me.  Right now think that my core goal in life is not to blow myself up.  As a former would-have-been SecState said, ‘I love so many people.’  I am only sad that trying as I did to uproot that carrot of love just now could have resulted in the demolition of an entire root-network, of at least my own excision therefrom.

‘Some people’ want revenge against life for not going their way or not being the color or fragrance or face shape they like or feel it ought to be - ‘no that is not what I meant at all.’  They will never hold a life reliable which doesn’t resemble their ideal, imago, or ‘soul-idol’ &c.  The meaning of the name ‘Cordelia’ as in King Lear is something like ‘heart’s ideal.’  I was driving and considering a novel that I feel touched absolute supreme greatness without knowing it or in a way that could mislead some readers Mrs. Mary HK Choi’s Yolk a novel I looked forward for a very long time.  I had all these references and fractal coreferences and forgot about actual birds, like what does the chick eat in the egg.

‘Blood is the life’ - I liked etymologies for a long time and my intellectualism caused me acute trouble in Confirmation Class at Morrow Memorial United Methodist Church in about 1998.  ‘Pastor’ Gretchen taught us the word root ‘consacramentum’ which comes from dipping the hand in blood in the concave of a Roman shield - those huge rectangular shields which could be used in formation as ‘testudo’ or turtle to stop projectile weapons and allowed soldiers to make pin-point stabbing attacks from a ‘matrix(?)’ of high protection.  I forget what kind of animal was killed to pool the blood in the shield but it might have been a rabbit.

I was reading ‘Revelation,’ I don’t recall what everyone else was talking about.  Some kind of community service project, interview your parents, buy a wedding-magazine and make a whole plan for how you would get married and how much it would cost (and while you’re at it describe how you would 1) restore a classic Shelby Cobra using newspaper and Krazy Glue 2) drive foresaid drop-top to the Moon).  

The Pastor was a pipe-smoker named ‘Painter’ who used the NY Lotto’s ‘Hey you never know’ slogan to describe sth like Pascal’s Wager; OTOH St. Paul teaches us that everyone is born knowing God exists (Romans).  The problem is that people fail or omit to glorify Him or subsequently ruin or betray their own best efforts through blasphemy, turning or falling away, cowardice, denial, attachment to certain sins or being ‘yoked unequally’ with non-believers.  

I reflected starting in 2008 that I was shy of my ‘first love’ (rather, the woman I fell in love with at 14); at the time I gloried or reveled in the shyness like a Wallace Stevens poem that ends, ‘And not to have written a book.’  I could’ve written a few books by now or walked away from book-writing or changed my mind / specified which kind of book I might have written and for whom.  

I remember always admiring the ‘magic’ of literature and feeling sad I had no characters or world of my own to work magic with.  Star Wars and my own life and later much else supplied ‘materia poetica’ and till the point that I began to think in fiction and became addicted to interpreting my own in ‘story-ideas’ although that is not to say that what happened around me didn’t happen.  

America is trying to become a better country in numerous valences, loving our neighbors, holding each other accountable.  ‘Justice’ with or without the marks is important.  It is a divine Judgment that Covid fell on the world even if eventually we all shall learn who devised the virus or leaked it or modulated its mutations.  I was eager to rejoin the world feeling I might overcome my mental illness but I mishandled specific questions and tests.  I ended up turning people against me and creating monsters more than ever as well as perhaps terminally sabotaging any chance I might’ve had of fulfilling a dream or making good on the past.  I have a lot of opinions on the CCP but should’ve focused on love and family and personal responsibilities as in the past or at least held to my long-standing feeling that Chinese people deserve better rather than associating myself with hard-liners and racists or those who would simplify issues in order to bring about ultimate victory without temperance or concern for the side-effects.

In Milwaukee where I lived for far too long everyone’s spirit - electric, intellectual, visory(?), informational et cetera seemed to be militating against everybody else’s.  There were fake vaccines, radioactive ice cream (or thermogenic ice-cream), gun-battles as usual, lines crossed, all kinds of scores that people tried to settle.  I also realized that the police were probably tracking for years my various attempts to obtain weapons from samurai-swords to handguns though the purpose was defensive and I can only trust at this point that some good lawyer will prevent the bad lawyers and cops from presenting the most damning circumstantial case they could.  People in Milwaukee own AK-47′s, automatic shotguns, probably all kinds of explosives, improvised chemical weapons and (’our Black brothers’ - Schopenhauer) biological weapons - the cops don’t stand a chance that I can tell and even the National Guard perhaps could get outclassed by retired military.  I had told myself for years that it was only the ghetto’s that bore witness to this paramilitary equipage and that the retired SEAL Team 4 member with the ‘Stop Socialism’ and ‘Jobs Not Mobs’ sign on his front lawn would protect me from the Maoist-Covid Night of the Long Knives but I feel I tempted God a lot in the past.  

I read all these books and took to heart that people thought I was just entertaining myself with but now as then I should’ve guarded my heart or not begged the question of what others thought about me or saw in me.  I literally felt of late ‘I am the anti-Christ’ - good-looking at times, preach world peace, ‘form of godliness,’ want to be friends with everyone, build bridges - and had to rack my brains to come up with an ‘anti-Christology’ and science / concept of the Whore of Babylon just to make sure it was more than me alone.  I also wished to simplify my past and help kids ‘get life right the right time’ doing battle with philosophies that opposed this consciously or otherwise but stepped into numerous minefields and also tried running when I should’ve flown over.  

Everyone’s trying to get rich and build back better and I profoundly admired the American President for doing, finally, apparently, what presidents had tried to decades even as I remember ‘Flowers 1881′ a poem that implies that basically teachers can do only so much before turning their kids loose in a world no one has yet fixed and which others keep breaking; from a California almanac that also instructed me that the same old debates and cross-fires and burdens plague teachers as always, not that it is an ‘impossible profession’ but honestly that God won’t let us establish Heaven on Earth or at least not me or at least not America or at least not teachers who savor the experience of being a teacher or the beauty of their students more than the outcomes or commitment or intrinsic value of the work or the confirmed identity / vocation / personhood of the instructor.  There are always new and old at any rate and different cultures all describe the teacher as needing to keep both alive; as do descriptions of higher education and scholarship.  

I questioned my qualifications / background and wondered about re-training but can’t afford tuition anywhere so I am trying to cling to the core of my capabilities / blessings.  ABC and XYZ.  The glory of the soul or souls.  

I kept theorizing Russian literature as well as weapons-systems and ultimate destiny, sailing ships, noble names, divisions, the flaming sword of Archangel Gabriel, the mission of Russia today with respect to the world order.  I am also simply trying to be healthy and stop for a while trying to parse out who was the love of my life or what it still left in terms of action or redemption or justice or surrender or mitigation or meeting new friends or propounding the kind of understand with carefulness I have believed in - ‘saving people from themselves.’  Driving up here I remember being distressed at a gas-station in California when I was about 5 or 6 since the pump was leaking, being very upset with my parents and family.  In those days I also disliked animal-cruelty though the world today seems so depraved and deprived with respect to human interests I would make no bones about neglecting most all animals outside of military or police use.  When I was about 3 I saw white kids set a frog on fire; my mother has a history of running over cats.

I dislike winging it and taking risks.  There is a song I call to myself ‘Run Away’ though its title is ‘Paradise.’  I am not a utopian communist for believing in secular justice and its instrinsic value... I wonder whether when I helped people in the past there were always strings attached or maybe I was just trying to close my case and discharge my responsibilities too rapidly without allowing others to gestate or make an abode in my heart besides and beyond what I could get out of them, glorifying myself, or tell others about.  

What is motherhood?  What is travail?  Is there a kind of problematic ‘female gaze’ as feminists talk of a ‘male gaze’ associated with sadism or fascination / fetishism?  It’s psychology which is not my first love at all since it appeared pretentious and distracting and retarding (in the literal sense of slowing down).

I also remembered reading various things about Victor Hugo whose ‘93′ is an important novel today due to its techno-utopianism, feminism or ‘new model egalitarianism,’ fusion of revolution and religion, etc.  But I had forgotten ‘Les Miserable’ with its themes of ransom or eventual recompense, genealogies, caution, and more none of which is to negate the various complains against me or death-warrant from China or my parents with their partial private readings of Proverbs (’Let’s stone David for embarrassing us / not doing precisely what we want’ - no mention of witnesses, tribunals, questions, mitigation-hearings, actual counsels of judges etc. but just American-German ‘coalitions of the willing’ ‘run and get my gun’ ‘team-building’ etc. which in my experience ends with tanks on the street and military dictatorships as when at the end of the CultRev PLA regulars were gunning down former justice-fanatics who’d been stripping women, kicking pregnant stomachs etc. as in The Vagrants).  Naturally having grown up in a family fascinated with Lee Kwanyew and Arnold Schwarzenegger and conflicted about ‘fascism’ I had reservations about the United States’ ability to suddenly dress up and ‘stand at perpetual moral attention’ but I guess my own problems are just that I am poor with a rich kid’s mind and no one really likes me except strangers and faraway friends who were easily spooked and/or just couldn’t be there.  ‘King of South shall attack and King of North shall crush them  with chariots &c.’ - in the end righteous will prevail whichever side of the line I end up on in the final assessment.  I also remembered today a novel called ‘The Old Capital’ about a bad artist father, a virgin daughter, straight and true pines.  Some other aspects of this novel are silly as well as criminally problematic and there's a lot of that going on in new-old old news America / Babylon or at least to quote my favorite lawyer / leave lawyering movie 'First let's get out of Milwaukee.'  Miss the land of June snow.