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izzy-b-hands · 2 years

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Buncha lil interconnected dethklok and ofmd crossover things that hit randomly bc the city woke me up at 5 AM sanding the streets lmao.

Modern AU for the Revenge crew but also they're still pirates sailing and robbing as tho it's 1717. They just like the aesthetic and prefer it that way, and are perfectly deadly all the same bc They Just Are akdjfk

Ten points if you guess which crew member hooks up the most in this

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"We uhhhh. Need directions. Or something."

"Nathan, ask if they got any snacks!" Pickles hisses.

"Right yeah. Do you guys have snacks?"

"Do we," the long haired man in front of them hesitates. "The pirates attempting to rob you and steal your ship. Have snacks."

"Right, because we do, but it's not what any of us want to eat," Pickles pipes up again. "So what's that situation like for you?"

The man blinks. "Yes. We have snacks."

"They know we're robbing them, yes?" Stede asks. "I know piracy as we're doing it is a bit old-fashioned, but-"

"No, they get it," Ed interrupts. "I think."

The band and a small army of now dead guards were all that was aboard the large metal coal powered yacht covered in spikes.

Now, the band was sitting in their galley, eating their food, and discussing key changes with Frenchie.

"Technically, if they want to stay, we can still call them hostages," Pete says, moving by them with another bag of chips. "So, you guys play metal? We've never robbed a metal band before, believe it or not."

"Hostages might work," Ed nods. "Can anyone smell...what is that?"

"Oh, our ship was sinking before you guys found us," the drummer, Pickles, remarks. "We were actually building a float out of Klokateers when you boarded, so ya know. Really good timing, all that."

"Is your extremely polluting ship sinking right now then?"

"Where else ams it goings to go?" a snort from their lead guitarist, a Swede named Skwisgaar who kept giggling with The Swede exclusively in Swedish. "Dis guys. You ams on the waters with a sinkings ships, oh, dids it sink? Into the oceans? No ways! Douchebags."

"Don't kill them yet," Ed gently pats Stede's arm, reaching for a knife. "We can get a ransom for them first."

"I basically hold the band together," Murderface sighs. "It'sch...tiring. But you do it you know? For the schake of everyone."

Pete nods. "I get it. I sailed with Ed way before this, was a major player on that crew. Now it's the same here. Even got a boyfriend."

"Yeah, I saw that," Murderface mumbles. "Say. One vital component schort of man to another...how did you do that?"

"Get Lucius?" Pete smiles, then chuckles nervously. "I have no idea. I liked him; I talked to him; I whittled him a new finger after infection took his original one-"

"Whittling isch the answer," Murderface says sagely. "We schould network more with each other; this is good."

"Like keep talking?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Okay...wanna hear about how we took down an aircraft carrier?"

"Holy fuck, yesch I do."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Pirates," Izzy corrects. "Charles, look. I wasn't on deck at the time, or I would have stopped them. I'm aware our choice of career is unusual at best and that this overall isn't ideal, but-"

"I didn't want to talk to you again."

"I didn't want to talk to you either."

Ed blinks. "Wait, this is Charlie? This guy? This is who you were engaged to while I was with Jack?"

"Yes," Izzy sighs. "This is Charlie."

"It's Charles now," the video image showing Charles in all his professional besuited glory flickers. "I run the most successful band in the world, and do you know what that means?"

"What it meant back then," Izzy supplies. "That you never take time for yourself or anyone you're with-"

"As if you didn't do the same, away for months at sea!"

"We're doing this? You really want to do this now? Fine then, let's dredge up everything!"

"I don't think we're getting the ransom," Stede interjects. "Maybe we could work out something else? Izzy, please stop flipping him off. Izzy. I get it but-okay, Mr. Offdensen please don't do it back. Please-oh good god."

"You guys ever shoot each other out of these?" Pickles raps a knuckle on one of the cannons.

"No," Wee John replies. "But we should have! Frenchie, do you think-"

"All we need is someone willing to try," Frenchie interrupts excitedly. "And who might fit."

"I got the perfect guy," Pickles smiles. "Toki! Come down here, we need you for somethin' important!"

"Okay," Izzy sighs deeply. "We're all adults here so let's just go over it quickly. What did we learn?"

"That just because Toki fits in the cannon, doesn't mean we should fire him out of it," Pickles rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"Oh no," Izzy frowns. "No, I meant we know now that we can shoot people pretty fucking far in our cannons without them dying. That's an excellent new technique."

Frenchie's eyes light up. "He's not even hurt, aside from the water bruising him when he hit it."

"I would likes to does this again," Toki, covered in spent gunpowder, coughs. "But withs paddings this time."

"Experiment away," Izzy smiles. "We might not have to kill you guys after all."

"That's fucking sick," Nathan examines the knife. "And now you're gonna kill all the motherfuckers that are left?"

Jim nods. "Trying to, at least. In between everything else."

"Fuckin' metal. Got any other cool shit like this?"

"No one showed you the weapons room yet? It's a mess, but, come on. You gotta see the cannons too."

"I love it here."

"In exchange for your safe return," Charles says. "I've agreed not to press charges and to assure them immunity and legal assistance for any and all of their future crimes."

"Seems like a lot," Pickles frowns. "And we're playing a show on here that you're gonna broadcast because...why? You got someone on here you're gonna fuck so they let us go?"

"It's a mistake, but not one I'm making because of that," Charles mutters, seemingly meant for himself by the way he blushes. "Um. Anyway. I'll be flying out shortly with your gear. See you soon."

"Okay," Pickles says. "Who do we think he's fuckin'? I got my money on Izzy or Stede."

"That ams stereotypicals," Skwisgaar scoffs. "But it ams Izzy. He and I fucks in the jams room earlier, and he mentioned it."

"Wait, you fucked Izzy? When?"

"Like twentys minutes ago, keeps up."

"Huh. Okay, well then. Good for you, both of you!"

"Israel."

"Charles."

He's still hot. Of course he is.

"It would be," Izzy continues. "Improper of me to ask this so soon, in the cabin my captains usually use. Had the biggest sturdiest desk."

Charles nods and bends himself over it, casually opening his belt. "I'd like to test that for myself. If we're planning to use it while we negotiate any final terms."

Izzy locks the door to the quarters, and starts unlacing the front of his leather trousers. "We're on the same page then."

Charles whips around as Izzy approaches him and pulls him in for a kiss. His trousers slip to knees, but he doesn't care.

He tastes just as good as he remembered.

"So. One of your current partners is fucking our manager," Nathan coughs. "Um. That's a thing."

Ed nods. "I can hear it. I'm not bothered by it, by the way, I just...I don't know why, but I would never have pictured them together."

"After he fucked Skwisgaar," Nathan says. "I didn't think they were serious about them having..."

A loud and delirious moan of Charles' echoes.

"They're serious," Ed chuckles. "Very serious. And loud. Wait, Izzy too? Who hasn't your guitarist fucked on here then?"

"Probably everyone. Pickles is right behind him though. I haven't really been interested in everyone else aside from talking but uh...you and your other boyfriend...since Izzy is busy, would you maybe be interested-"

"I think he would be," Ed gently lays a hand on Nathan's. "Should we go find Stede and ask together? Maybe give Izzy and Charles a run for their money noisewise?"

Nathan nods.

The show is loud, enough to shake the ship like constant cannon fire.

But it's amazing.

"And you really can assure our immunity?" Izzy shouts over the music.

Charles nods. "You have no idea what I've covered up in the years since we dated. You could kill anyone you wanted, any of you on here, and I could make it go away without even thinking about it."

Izzy pulls him in for a kiss, and decides not to ask if it isn't also to have reason to occasionally visit.

He already knows it is; Stede drew a little heart on the day marked 'Iz/Ch/us!' on their calendar.

#text post #long post #i had more with more members of the crew but this is already long enough #that im already gonna skip tagging otherwise so it doesn't clog any tags #but if ppl do find and like these and want more just shoot me an ask or like this or something #and I can post up some of those too bc these were fun

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poisonouswritings · 2 years

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Any felix crumbs? SFW, NSFW, whatever you prefer, i'm about to climb on the walls i miss him so much

Can't believe we started this hiatus with another Felix death I miss him so much QnQ

SFW here, NSFW under the cut, I have Felix things in my drafts!! I'll get to them eventually!!! I am so bad at keeping a steady work pace!!!!!

Someone said that Felix's accent is close to a British accent and I'm gonna agree! I'm thinking a royal accent for him. Also I just think him using British idioms would be funny so

He likes butterflies and moths! Taxidermies them! Usually after Stella hunts them down

He reads out loud sometimes,, does voices for the different characters,,,, nerd

Likes operas and musicals! Tried to bring Anisa and Sage once and long story short they both got banned from the concessions.

Hums while he works/studies.

Imagine like,, his old school asks him to come in to give like,, an alumni speech,,,, Escell probably makes him go,,,,,,,,,, does not help with his self-esteem that ask these people he graduated with when on to be important and powerful mages and he's just,, like,,, over here. His advice for the students basically boils down to 'be gay and do crimes'

Honestly I think that's just his life motto in general

Totally uses magic to get out of chores. Real Sorcerer Mickey-esque shit. That time Sage got stabbed with an enchanted broom? That was all Felix.

Actually I don't remember what the canon response Sage gave to that was so maybe it was canonically Felix???

Maybe it's because I'm listening to Pinball Wizard but,, idk I'm not saying he'd be good at pinball but I am saying he'd enjoy it

Stella catches mice and gives them to Felix,, Felix feeds them to random owls that show up at his window (who are attracted by his magic),,,,,, he just has owl friends now. Names them all. At least one is named Bernard

He would totally listen to Harry Styles

Is always cold,, walks between Sage and Anisa because they're warm

He and Tulsi have a Short Alliance. Aka a any time Sage bullies one of them for being short the other has to roast him for something.

Used to make his family mud pies and would cry if they didn't eat them. Escell and Scylla wisely just pretended to eat them. Florian ingested so much dirt,,,,,

Does he use an eye mask when he sleeps?I'm gonna say yes. A silk one.

Okay so he cast a translation spell on us at one point so,, like,,, cast a translation spell on Sage and Anisa to make it so they couldn't understand each other. No real reason why. He just likes tormenting them. Good for you babe.

Silk underwear? Silk restraints? Yes

Giggles a lot when he feels good, especially when cumming. He tries to muffle it but,, does not do a convincing job of that

Would read 50 Shades but mostly to laugh at it

Monster fucker monster fucker monster fucker!!! If Rime was corrupted Felix was 10/10 fuck him

Felix,, has,,, helped Rime on his heat before,,,,,, he talks about it like he's a veteran describing a battle, with the thousand-yard stare and everything, but really he uh,,, yeah it was a good experience for him

Probably has a higher libido than anyone gives him credit for!!

Not the best at dirty talk. Sorry. Very good at praise tho

Obviously he's a brat. Even as a dom he still managed to be bratty. That's just Him In General.

Always cleans up after sex because he doesn't like feeling sticky.

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix iskandar escellun #felix escellun #fictif felix #last legacy felix #sage lesath #rime varela #anon asks #ozzy answers #ozzy daydreams

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

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[ 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐉𝐨𝐉𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 ]

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[ 𝐀/𝐍 ] straight up pulled these out of my ass at like 1-2 am but here u go anyway

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𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

- consistently smells like cigarettes and cheap cologne but he has the common sense not to buy axe since it reminds him of the middle schoolers in his school

- cant fucking cook to save his life because he refused to sit down and let Holly teach him. he suffers the consequences his first week in college and ends up eating dinner there for a month since he’s broke

- literally only smokes Marlboro Reds. like he’s super fucking picky about his cigarettes and it carries on for the rest of his life

- i can’t 100% tell what his sexuality is but i know he isn’t straight (it’s a gut feeling i just k n o w)

- i know everyone says he fucks but like,,, the concept of him having only dated jolyene’s mom rather than having multiple past partners and just marrying her like all the white southern people do with their “highschool sweethearts” in my area SENDS me

- i like to think that he’s bilingual since he grew up around his gramps and holly speaking it all the time so it’s kinda normal for him to stare into the distance for 2 hours straight trying to figure out the english word for “salt” during dinner with his english-speaking grandparents

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐤𝐢 :

- BI-CON no you cannot convince me otherwise thank you very much

- probably has a male leaning preference tho cause like his vibe just screams “twink” to me for some reason

- he somehow speaks better english than jotaro (who’s grown up bilingual) and constantly likes to show it off by having conversations with his mom in front of him

- absolutely feral when playing videogames. like if you’re playing mario kart with him do NOT expect him to go easy on you since you’re a friend. in fact he might be even more competitive and a whole ass cheater by “accidentally” bumping into you while you’re trying to avoid a banana peel or some shit like that

- he likes cherries the most, but he pretty much likes any red fruit anyway. like he literally won’t eat any fruit that isn’t red, just because he doesn’t find it appealing. it’s been like this since he was a kid and his mom is still pissed off about it

- kinda insecure about his body since he’s thinner than the rest of the crusaders but polnareff makes sure to ABOLISH that shit since kakyoin is the Skinny Legend none of them could ever be. polnareff is basically his hype man when he feels unattractive no cap

- literally hates the way cigarettes smell and has complained about it enough to get Jotaro to finally put on some fucking cologne to mask it (even tho it does a shitty job) but it’ better than being suffocated by the smell of smoke all the time

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧-𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐟 :

- a pansexual icon, and likes to constantly clarify that by merely existing

- def the hype man of the group. like in the last one where i mentioned that he hypes up kakyoin when he’s feeling insecure?? yeah its not just limited to kakyoin (even though he arguably needs it the most probably)

- notices and compliments ever new piece of clothing any of them get and gives tips for their wardrobe unprompted (that being said he would literally fucking die if he saw part 6 jotaro’s snake skin print pants)

- can COOK okay like this man can make a 3 course meal blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back and it still comes out looking straight outta master chef. he can also grill, but not as well as joseph can obviously

- LOVES chubby girls like,,, its not a fetish thing he just LOVES chubby girls with all of his heart

- beats the shit out of anyone who makes a r*pe/misogynistic joke in his presence with absolutely no exceptions

𝐌𝐮𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐀𝐯𝐝𝐨𝐥 :

- s o m f t,,, s o m f t h u g s. like he’s just the warmest dude, and he smells so nice and has such a nice voice that reverberates in his chest- like if he sings you to sleep while you lay in his arms you might as well die right then and there because you’ve reached heaven

- probably smells like sage and chai tea with a hint of cinnamon in there. it’s v calming tbh like he basically feels like what you think home would be if it were a person

- gorgeous, but very VERY uncontrollable hair. like it’s v curly and thick and stuff and so he ties it in bantu knots so it doesn't bother him. he’ll let it loose sometimes just so he doesn't end up having breakage or anything like that, but if he’s actually trying to be productive he has to tie it up somehow

- i personally believe in puffy ponytail avdol supremacy thank you very much

- names all of the chickens. yes, all of them. and he remembers every single one of their names too

- theres a v v common headcanon that he’s Muslim and honestly? i don’t know much about Islam but i still think it’s cool regardless

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

- ya’ll thought he’s matured since he’s older now? lmao NO- he still does dumb shit all the time and i honestly doubt that it’s ever going to change. he’s a himbo for life ya’ll

- really likes film noir movies!! like the old shit is probably always going to be his go-to, but he also likes modern noir stuff too just because it’s so cool to him. highkey quotes lines from the movies when investigating something too and gets so excited when someone recognizes it

- i hate to fucking say it but i KNOW this man says “gracias” at Mexican restaurants to a) embarrass the fuck out of jotaro and b) because it’s canon that he has quote on quote “frequent failures at blending with the local culture and his struggle at battling Stands are a constant source of humor” (see the Joseph Joestar Wiki Page) and i plan to use that to the fullest of it’s capacity even if its a stretch

- highkey knows he’s a gilf but like refuses to let out the information that he has knowledge of modern lingo. he’d much rather use it incorrectly to make The Youth uncomfortable

- can actually use technology really well?? like you’d expect him to be a boomer about it but he’s knowledgeable to be able to help younger people with their phone problems (mostly courtesy of Hermit Purple)

- would die for some soul food at any given moment thank you very much 😌

[ ~𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!~ ]

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theywillcower · 4 years

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Sova Headcanons (General)

(Here are my headcanons for Sova! These will guide how I will write him in the future. 💖)

His full name is Sasha Volkov. Not only does the name contain many romanized versions of his codename, but Volkov means "wolf".

He's in his late twenties or earlier thirties.

He speaks in a Northern Russian dialect- so no I don't hc him from Siberia. He learned English from his mother who was an English teacher in their town.

He lived in a small village with his mother and his grandmother. His father died when he was very young in a hunting accident. And his mother took up the mantle of provider.

She taught him how to hunt with a bow and arrow and that skill and precision always overrode brute force. A result thereof is that there were never guns in their house and he only learned them later in life.

His babushka spoiled him in her own way, meaning that he got sweets every Sunday and a new toy every so often. The babushka that he mentions is his father's mother.

He's always been sociable and bubbly, but when the First Light occurred, it changed him.

He encountered results of the First Light during a hunt, peering into a strangely hollowed tree stump.

Radiant energy shot up and hit him in his right eye (why he has the blue eye) and killing his hunting party.

He was blamed, and exiled with his mother and grandmother.

The nature around them started changing and he was the only one who knew of the radianite. No one believed him.

He left at fourteen so his mother and babushka could rejoin the village, and he started living alone.

Birds are his favorite animals, but he attracts all of them. He had an albino Tibetan mastiff named Solnishko (little sun) and he accompanied him during hunts

He build a cabin from scratch that he would still visit if he could

Sova found guns on a dead hunting party and learned how to use them-- best at snipers though he prefers his bow

Recruited to Valorant after reports of a trail of destruction in Russia as he kills in his grief from leaving his mother and grandmother-- he's very emotional but doesn't unleash it

His bubbly and friendly nature comes back up in strange ways

"If you make me laugh again I will shoot my arrow at you"

He means well

Sova is immensely touch and affection starved, having been surrounded by his mothers and grandmothers love for so long

He cries, but it's with no noise. Scary.

Expresses his anger in action. He's not a yeller.

(THAT DOESNT MEAN HE PARTICIPATES IN DOMESTIC ABUSE THO DONT READ INTO THAT)

more like he goes hunting when he's overwhelmed by emotion

Or at Valorant, to the range

Wants to be best friends with everyone

Is best friends with Sage, Brim, Jett, Breach

Hangs out with Brim mostly tho Jett, Phoenix, Killjoy and Raze are more his age range

Best poker face. He'll take your money

Very high liquor tolerance because of his time spent alone

Doesn't give two shits about his appearance and has been cutting his hair for years

Pierced his own ears, lip and eyebrow

Wants tattoos. Like a lot.

Smart with history or literature, bad with figures or science.

Favorite part of day is dawn. He gets very little sleep

Ask me for other hcs!

#sova valorant #sova x reader #valorant fanfic #valorant x reader

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kl-writes · 3 years

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One thousand words a day is too much!

How many times do you have to tell a story before it consumes you and becomes redemption? 1001.

There’s nothing funnier than being told the twentieth “only right way to do something.” Particularly when the only difference is a step there or shifting your weight here. It teaches you things about the world you never had to think about in school, where there really was only one right answer. Supposedly. At least, you could count on there being only one right way to advance. Even the more open-ended arts and literature gave way to easily-graded grammar, symbolism, setting, spelling.

At the same time, there’s nothing worse than someone who is always responsible for when the right thing happens and never responsible for when the wrong thing happens. Even if it’s subjective who’s right or wrong, a three year old can spot that pattern.

When I was eight, I caught a basketball wrong and broke my finger. When I went into the living room of my grandparents’ house to show my parents, my mom asked my dad to set it back in place. I didn’t trust him to do it in a way that wouldn’t hurt, so in my arrogance I set it back myself. So my pinky finger will always be a little bent. Maybe I should wax poetic about how I’d rather hurt myself than trust someone else and get hurt. Or maybe I was a dumb eight year old who knew it would hurt either way, but would rather risk doing it wrong than have an adult do it. I’m almost twenty-five and I still don’t trust the notion of “adults.” “Adults” are awful people.

In middle school, my friend R- and I talked about keeping our middle names secret so that we couldn’t be True Name’d or impersonated. We shared our middle names readily. We worried about our parents, who already knew our middle names. It wasn’t a very good secret.

I would get frustrated with myself in middle school for not having the drive to finish knitting a simple scarf. I made a few bookmarks and coasters. I never considered that maybe the problem was that knitting was boring. These days, I have no issue finishing scarves, so long as the knitting is accompanied by a particularly long and dry class.

I used to plan conversations, sentence by sentence, before I had them. It avoids any freezing-up you might do on the phone, and helps you make it through the conversation. Nowadays, I still hold useless conversations in my head and in my dreams, but I no longer need them. The army’s made me almost too brash.

I hated creative writing lessons in middle school because the teachers always wanted you to write about real life. Nothing was less interesting or more stale and putrid than my life. I think I made up what happened and exaggerated for the assignment. I still dislike that I had to do it, since it bothers me to no end when my mother lies for the sake of a good story. I never had any issue writing or reading fiction, when people knew it was escapism.

I forget the names of second cousins and neglect to ask the names of people I sit across from at lunch for months. I don’t call anyone, and my facebook messages to my sisters are more to show my own excitement for whatever video game or image I’ve found engaging or funny. I dread getting calls, but I don’t despise calls from my Grandma Z- like my mother claims to. I don’t know if she does anymore, my mom isn’t the same person who raised me anymore. That’s a good thing.

I want to connect to people, to scream when I’m mad, to cry when I’m sad, and to spread my joy to those I care about. But I don’t like dealing with problems or obligations that arise from relationships, and I prefer that everything fades away and that I am forgotten. People wouldn’t like “me,” But “I” have a very judgy and spiteful personality. I know better than to sling barbs at others, so I hold my tongue and bury myself ever deeper. Till we’re nothing but pins in a sewing tomato of needles.

They say that Terry Pratchet wrote 400 words a day! Less than what most writing blogs and advice says (1k words, 1.6k if you’re on nanowrimo), but I bet that Pratchett was more prolific than all of them combined! Writing’s a marathon, not a sprint. So that’s why I’m following his sage wisdom, and writing 400 words a month. Absolutely nothing to do with my own lack of discipline, self-imposed sleep deprivation, or general flakiness.

Maybe it’s a problem when things that bring you joy turn into products. There’s a number attached to everything on the internet these days, and I scrutinize even what little heuristics I can squeeze from my AO3 fics. I used to delete unfinished fics all the time, back in middle school, since I only managed a chapter or two and then got bored and moved on. I shamed myself. I’m better now- I no longer delete fics, since I no longer risk writing anything that long and publishing it. My record word count on any work is 18k, and that one was encyclopedic in nature. Pretty much useless, too, but at least the journey was fun.

It’s far easier to spend money on fancy writing books and fancier typewriters than it is to actually write. That’s why I love my AlphaSmart 3000! It was cheap, so it doesn’t hurt as much that I don’t write on it often! (Plus, I bet it’d survive a nuclear fallout)

I gotta be careful not to send to computer too often, though. Then I start psychoanalyzing the word count, pitifully smaller than all my estimates. Writing may be one task where you want to train to time, not to task. But that’s just the pessimism and lack of ambition speaking! Battery life’s pretty Gucci tho…

The strangest thing of all is that the stories I want to read aren’t the ones I enjoy writing, when everything’s said and done. I love the prep, I love the planning, but actually sitting down and going for it after all that work? That’s a no-go. And seat-of-the-pants writing for me leads to incoherent-to-semicoherent blobs of nothing. Word count ain’t anything. So if I like twists, and mysteries, and all sorts of odds and ends, should I break all conventional wisdom and seek to surprise myself with the ending? Should I produce a murder victim with no murderer? I still think the goose was behind everything in Hot Fuzz, so maybe everything’s reasonable if you do it with style.

I like weighty stories, too, but I loathe to write my own weight.

The best fancy writing book out there is Elements of Style, no shot. Stephen King’s “On Writing” is the worst since 12 year old me was irritated that there was no writing advice, and 12 year old me skipped the intro where he talked about how the book wasn’t really about how to write. Intros and prologues annoyed me, since I read a lot of pulp fantasy with useless introductions. Eragon got me into the habit of skimming large blocks of text (My apologies to Paolini), so when I read denser stuff I would miss things and have to go back and reread, lest I frustrate myself with the text. Back then, useless introductions and unimportant blocks of text were just things that books had, they weren’t the subject of critique or judgement. So I wonder why I treat my own works with a judgement I never extend to others? It’s all or nothing with me. Either a sentence is perfect, or the entire passage is barely decipherable but free of spelling errors.

Did you know that you could do warm-ups for writing? Just write nonsense, and then when you run out of nonsense the rest of what you write that day will be fine. I don’t know a better way to hit daily wordcount goals and still feel like you’re doing something meaningful.

#writing #on writing #1364 if you count the title lets goooooo

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ryoshan · 5 years

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after the fall spoilers /

when u wanna liveblog but ur the first person you know to start/finish reading: a collection of disorganised and contextless thoughts by an excitable brit

book: mentions weiss and ruby

me: SCREAMING

fox is from vacuo!!!!!! i am VINDICATED

ADA ADA ADA ADA

split point of view per chapter is sososososososoososos GOOD SO GOOD DO GOOD

nothing will beat novels for their ability to drop explicit details in a short period of time

VELVET HAS A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY

coco adele? was that a typo? or is adele her middle name? stylistic choice? hmm

what a fucking show off our boy fox is

tiny criticism: pls stop knocking on about coco’s fashion sense we get it you’re doing that thing where you boil her down to one trait, hopefully this will happen less as the book goes on

FOX CLAPPED HIS HANDS TO HIS EYES. “OH NO!” HE SAID. “WHYYYYYYY?”

this initiation is some juicy fucking lore my guys

y.. yatsuhashi CAN FUCK WITH MEMORIES???

dyou think when fox stutters over a word in team cfvy’s mental group chat, coco, yatsuhashi and velvet repeat his mistake back at him

i am supremely interested to know how fox’s semblance interacts with rens

i literally fucking winded myself at the start of chapter 5 gasping so hard

“she looked like she had a mortal wound in her side” OH HAHA VERY FUNNY I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE

coco mentoring ruby has given me more life than anything so far

WEISS DONT BE MEAN TO YATSUHASHI

oh im not comfortable with weiss calling fox red that sounds very weird and not at all in character it sounds too much like torchwick and im not about making that association

WHY WOULD HER HAND GO TO MYRTENASTER ARE YOU REALLY GONNA FIGHT FY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY WEISS?

i really did forget how much of an ego weiss has right in the beginning ive been writing her post development for too long

BLAKE N VELVET BLAKE N VELVE T once again i gasped so hard my lungs hurt

wow huh okay blake being violent is..... a surprise

“I don’t believe in fighting prejudice with violence” jess is vindicated im so proud of my wife

COCO WAS GOING TO LIKE HER, VELVET THOUGHT you’re damn right she does

i dont like velvet and coco fighting ):

fox as the hardcore realist i am once again, VINDICATED

velvet employing the same words to gus as blake did to her..... aaa.....

yatsuhashi’s semblance makes me sad cause imagine if he made someone he thought cared about him forget him and it turned out to be really easy

UGH THE THEME IN THIS BOOK IS LEARNING LESSONS AND ITS SO APPARENT AAAAAA

fox and ruby interacted...... thank you for my life............

the inclusion of not only yatsu asking velvet to guide him so he can be better in terms of his language but also an active example of this happening is really pleasing to me

as the player of a dnd character who always splits off from the group i can say with complete confidence fox splitting off from team cfvy in the sands of vacuo will almost certainly not go well

“she kept waiting for the others to see it” ;___;

PYRRHAAAA ;____________;

literally all it takes is her name and i am sad .

this TEAM make my heart SURGE

coco genuinely is the big explicit wlw i’ve been hoping for

jesus christ coco hold urself together.

fox vc alexa play darude: sandstorm

OK BUT CYRANO IS MCFUCKING COOL MY DUDES I COULDNT HAVE IMAGINED SOMETHING LIKE THIS

- as long as her remembered to charge his scroll. i knew it, boy’s gonna run out of battery .

IF MY BOY GETS KILLED I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU ROOSTERTEETH

i love when things connect with canon i love it i love it

why is coco of all people picking on velvet ):

VELVET BITING BACK THO aaaaaa yay but also ):

uhg i love this fuck ign fami ly

im.... emotional,,,,,

the cairn mission......... no wonder it was so hard..... im ):

COCO FINALLY LETTIN VELVET DO SHIT YASS

I KNOW ITS JUST THE INDLUENCE OF GUS’ SEMBLANCE BUT IT MAKES ME SO SAD WHEN THEY FIGHT

also im getting serious shadow of the colossus vibes

FOX BETTER NOT DIE BERTIE NEEDS TO GET FUCKED

i love my son he’s so strong and smart

theres so many death flags here i dont even know who they’re on anymore

lol jk he’s fine

i really love how sure of himself fox is and so he should be he’s fought really hard to be confident

it is REALLY cool seeing an actual scene from the show written from velvet’s perspective, im all about this

moro is gonna be happy about glynda i know it she’s fab

“we just need you to tell us everything” “ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING” ozpin still putting tremendous amounts of pressure on teenagers i see

“we prefer to speak with you individually so we can separate you from your support system while tugging on your vulnerabilities”

yatsu getting mad ):

im not too fond on how blithely ‘coco never picked up on that’ regarding the finer points of velvet’s tendencies when coco has been established already as a people watcher and observational thinker.,

CFY TO THE RESCUE

what the FUCK these adults???? hello????? “i deserved that” NO YOU DIDNT???? what did glynda think he was gonna do, stab ozpin???

“haha we broguth her here alone to TEST you!!! you passed because you came to her!!!! hahahahahah!!!!!!” fuck you ozpin

no explanation as to WHY she had to be brought alone as if her ‘keen observational skills’ couldnt have been asked about in the presence of her team or indeed pulled fro the written report she’ll be making

this is such a formative mission for them and i like it but damn ozpin really up here ruining it all

the death flags were yatsu’s ALL ALONG

oh god the impact of velvet using some of these weapons has not been lost on me and it must be devastating for her

“if this didnt qualify, what did?” me when i get to the end of a game with 3468758976495 different things hoarded and dropping them all on the final boss

why are coco and velvet having a conversation like they’re about to die noones dying NOONES DYING

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH SHIFTING TO A FLASHBACK YOU WANKERS

thumbelina peach...? really???? but hey looks like beacon has more than 4 professors now

“noone knew what had frozen that beast there” interesting .

its interesting to me that so far its been atlas thats been shown to be the least accepting of faunus but now its becoming clear mistral is worse, worse enough that velvet wont even consider going there

“velvet waited for someone to ask her what she wanted, but they never did” :(

anyway i cant wait to see how coco is gonna make the blind worm her bitch

yatsu is so shy about his semblance im sad for him,

I CANT BELIEVE I THOUGHT YOU WERE CUTE

coco getting edward to help ;_____;

its both funny and depressing that sssn are here and sage and scarlet are still yet to have any actual fuckin lines or DESCRIPTORS for that matter

fox tapping that @ everyone command and getting chewed out for it

COCO YOU BITCH THAT WAS ART

u kno whats getting me most?

BOOK #2 WHEN???????????

#idk why im surprised i finished it already when ive been doing nothing else all day #anyway im gonna take a break and then start a reread for analysis purposes #( ooc. they’re lesbians harold )#after the fall spoilers /#rwby spoilers /

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spiritgriffon · 7 years

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Rachael’s Favorite FE Characters

Well, since I posted my favorite Pokemon... everything a while ago, I figured I’d post my favorite FE characters class-by-class as well! I’ll also post my least favorites.

The games I own are Sacred Stones, Path of Radiance, Radiant Dawn, Shadow Dragon, New Mystery on an emulator, Awakening, Heroes, all 3 Fates & Echoes. I’ve played a bit of FE4 too but I’m not far enough into it to pick favorite characters.

Favorite Lord:

Male- Chrom (He’s pretty vanilla but I still love me my Blueberry Dorklord)

Female- Erika (Who is not NEARLY as foolish as recent entries would have you believe. She’s quite a bit better than Celica at any rate- there’s no way she’d fall for fkn JEDAH)

Least Favorite- Ephraim (He’s such a... warmonger. There is no point in the entirety of SS where I go “Yes, he’ll make a good king!”)

Favorite Avatar

Robin! Robin’s the best. Robin has the best coat. Do I need to say more?

Well, I guess I’ll say too that Robin’s personality is quite a bit like my own, which is why I prefer Fem!Robin. I too, would relentlessly pelt Lon’qu with figs and, when faced with unwinnable odds would, just resort to a Big Fire™

Least favorite goes to... IDK, I want to say Kiran but Kiran can marry Navarre so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Favorite Cavalier/Paladin/Great Knight

Seth wins, but Xander and Berkut are close seconds. Seth/Erika is my ultimate FE OTP- they’re the only ones in the whole series I can’t even bear to pair with anyone else for a playthrough to get their supports. I like Xander/Corrin and Xander/Sakura quite a bit, but neither come anywhere close honestly. And Berkut is my angry garbage son~

Least favorite goes to Jagan. You honestly think I’m going to kill Frey who arguably has better stat growths than both Cain and Abel and keep you? Screw canon, off you go, old man!

Favorite Myrmidon/Swordsmaster/Trueblade

Joushua, obviously!

...

I mean, Navarre doesn’t really count because he’s my favorite FE character PERIOD. Besides Navarre, I like Joshua.

Least favorite is Marissa. Not that crazy about Mia either, but Marissa is just so inferior to Josh stats wise and while he’s tons of fun, she’s no fun at all. If she were in another game it’d different but Joshua makes her look really bad in comparison. Plus she took his spot in Awakening AND I’M STILL SALTY 4 YEARS LATER

Favorite Mercenary/Hero/Dreadfighter

Navarre in FE1

Ike!... Yes, I’m counting him here... Oh fine, Ogma then. They’re both big gay softies that are 40% pure iron muscle and 60% heart. I bet they give the best hugs!

(And no, I don’t believe Ogma’s “feelings” for Caeda are in any way romantic bc he met her when she was like 5 and he was probably 20. He probably feels like her big brother or father- which is equally impossible for him to express due to his lot in life. Plus, Marth never gets jealous around him, while he practically turns green around any of the other characters interested in her.)

(Oh, and I consider Soren to be the more canon partner for Ike over Sothe and Ranulf bc Priam is a thing and I’m like 70% sure Soren is supposed to be trans. And yes, there is a canon lesbian whose name is currently escaping me & Sothe is canonically bi, they just went with the “heavy implied to the point of being basically irrefutable” route instead of outright stating it, so it is VERY possible Soren is trans. I like all 3 ships tho)

Least favorite is... The dude from SS. I can’t even remember his name. He’s the only freaking mercenary in SS and his personality doesn’t do anything for me.

Favorite Knight/General/Baron

The Black Knight of course! His writing is bit... a lot of a mess, but you can’t deny how badass he is.

On a less villainous note, Forsythe is pretty cool too.

Least favorite is... IDK, was there one in Awakening? I thought there was one on the cover but he’s so forgettable...

Favorite Archer/Sniper/Ballistician/Bow Knight/Hunter

Tacomeme :)

Leon is also pretty cool, but he’s not nearly as useful in-game. I like Niles too! But I’d be lying if I said a good part of that wasn’t bc of Takehito Koyasu and his sexy voice rip

Least favorite is Faye in Heroes Python’s inability to hit the broad side of a barn Zero’s stupid name change to Niles Innes. His stats are nice but his personality rubs me the wrong way.

Favorite Pegasus/Falcon Knight/Sky/Kinshi Knight

Probably Claire! I didn’t expect to like her much (I got Maribelle vibes at first), but she really grew on me throughout the game and her supports. I love the way her friendship with Alm was written- if it had evolved into a romance I would have found it believable, but it’s one of the VERY, VERY few times I think IntSys has handled a one sided crush on the main character well.

Least favorite is... Probably Cordelia. Like I said, VERY few times. (Vanessa, Sumia, Syrene, Palla, Catria, Est, Hinoka, Subaki, Tanith and Sigrun all tie for second to last. This is... not my favorite class.)

Favorite Dracoknight/Wyvern Rider/Wyvern Lord

Hmmm... I would say Camilla, but my headcanon version of her is quite a bit different from the way she actually is in canon lol. So... Probably promoted Caeda. Minerva is utterly useless on the battlefield, unfortunately, and I like Caeda about the same as Clare so I put her here.

I guess I like Haar, Jill, Cormag, Gwin, and Valter (As a villain, not as a person) somewhat too.

Least favorite has to go to Beruka. I find her... bland.

Favorite Villager/Recruit

AMELIA THE GENERAL IS COMING THROUGH! MAKE WAY, MORTALS

Do I need to say who my least favorite is? Do I really need to?

It’s Faye. Because... she’s Faye.

Favorite Thief/Trickster/Assassin/Rogue/Ninja

That has to go to Julian! He’s very similar to Gaius, but instead of candy, his thing is puns. Fun fact: I have a blood sugar condition similar to diabetes IRL that makes me unable to eat sugar, so Gaius just made me crave sweets I can’t have most of the time :/

Second place goes to Gangrel or Rennac. Gangrel is actually my second favorite character to romance in Awakening due to his great redemption arc in his supports with both Robins & his talks with Em in the DLC, and IMO he makes the second best dad to Morgan (And yes, I have ALL of male Morgan’s supports with his fathers, yes, it was boring, repetitive, and took hours, and yes, the only one I like better is Chrom), and Rennac is just... so hilariously cranky. They also both go in the “They deserved better in their endings” bin- Rennac can’t marry L’rachel despite their great chemistry and Gangrel flat-out dies if you don’t marry him.

Least favorite... I guess Nina. I never found her very funny.

Favorite Cleric/Troubadour/Valkyrie/Bishop/War monk

Elise! She is... one of two healers I like. In the entire series.

The other is L’rachel.

And Sakura, Lissa, Natasha, and Rena I... don’t particularly dislike.

I don’t like any others. Tat/iana is the worst of the bunch. Tat/iana is actually my least favorite character in the series

Favorite Fighter/Pirate/Warrior/Barbarian

Maybe... Vaike or Ross? Or Boyd? Basilio? Wow, there aren’t any I really like a lot. Guess this is my least favorite class.

My least favorite of all HAS to be Arthur though.

Favorite Mage/Monk/Dark Knight/Sage

Soren! He’s really well written. At first he comes off as a racist asshole, but as the game goes on & you get his supports, he proves himself to be a really great, three-dimensional character. And he’s so gay for Ike. Like, so, so gay.

Least favorite is all of the little red-headed boys that are clones of each other. Except maybe Ewan, because he’s actually useful in-game. Most of the others aren’t.

Favorite Dark Mage/Sorcerer/Summoner/Necromancer/Druid/Witch/Cantor

LYON!!!! Oh man, I don’t want to spoil exactly what happens but suffice to say that he is my FAVORITE antagonist in the series.

My least favorite is either Validar or Iago... I don’t know which to pick. They are how NOT to do a decent sorcerer villain in FE. But all of the Cantors in Echoes also get a special mention for being FREAKING ANNOYING.

Favorite Manakete/Dragon Laguz

Tiki- particularly young Tiki! She’s so sweet... and badass!

Least favorite... ugh, I have to say Myrrh. I do like her, but her uses of Dragonstone are so limited that you can barely use her and while she’s just as cute as Tiki, she’s not nearly as tough. She also has a lot sadder story than Tiki- she’s a really good character, but she just doesn’t make me feel bubbly and happy when I see her the way Tiki does.

Favorite Beast Laguz/Bird Laguz/Taguel/Wolfskin/Kitsune

All hail King Naesala! He’s another character that brings a smile to my face when I see him-and that’s saying quite a bit, since he has a pretty serious story. This man oozes personality- He shows up on screen and you know he’s there to kick the world and rule the ass. And no, that’s not backwards.

Honorable mention to Reyson- every time these two are on screen together you know that Reyson is about three seconds from punching Naesala right in the nose, never mind the fact he’d probably break every bone in his tiny, fragile fist. The fact that Naesala’s only paired ending is with Reyson’s sister is just hilarious to me.

I guess my least favorite is Lyre... She sort of feels like she’s just there to have one more playable character to me, since she has so little bearing on the story.

Favorite Dancer/Singer

In terms of personality, supports, and gameplay, Feena is far and away my favorite. However... I’m honestly not a huge fan of her design, so in terms of appearance, Azura, who I personally think has one of the best designs in the series, takes the cake. The fact she has such a catchy theme song is a huge bonus too!

Tethys gets the last spot because she’s completely useless in battle. I’ve heard Ninian can’t fight either but she boosts your stats- why did they give Tethys the shaft so badly?

Favorite Lancer/Soldier

And finally... ending this on a weird one. See, neither Nephenee nor Oboro do anything for me- I don’t dislike them, but I don’t particularly like them either. So, I guess this one goes to Azura!

#fire emblem #Personal #OK to Reblog!#I hope somebody sees this it took 3 hours #And no I didn't really forget Kellam's name

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sparto-i · 7 years

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Soul character analysis?

hoooo BOY you better buckle in because he is my favorite gotdam character and i have a lot of things to say about this boy

first off, let’s start out with a summary so ppl who don’t wanna read 4,000 words can still get something outta this:

soul is a bit of an anomaly with his characterization in the beginning being VASTLY different from his characterization in the end: overall, he’s gone through the most change out of any character in the series. starting off, he was highly insecure and defensive, which likely could be the result of growing up under scrutiny: i have every reason to believe soul’s upbringing was not colorful or happy, but rather harsh and rigid. this is reflected in his desperation to scramble for an identity in the beginning (i have some theories about that). his turning point is when he’s infected with the black blood and begins to have more and more conversations with the Little Ogre- which made a few observations about him: he’s insecure. unsure. nothing like his partner. as the series progresses, he begins to gain confidence and lose that desperation to fit into a certain box and really starts to come into his own. he gains confidence in his abilities to think and analyze, as well as his abilities to support others. this shows his truly kind-hearted nature: a cool dude wouldn’t be a total jackass, right?

now for the REAL party (after the readmore)

just a warning, there will be a lot of mentions of mental illness (especially when it comes to his self-image) and unhealthy family relationships. if i need to add anything else to the warnings, please let me know!

let’s start off with soul’s past:

it’s a well-known fact that he comes from a rich, successful family of musicians- which is something he seems to be trying to forget. soul drops all of the aspects of his past life: he hides his skill and love for the piano, as well as redacting his last name entirely. again, this is common knowledge in the fandom by now. when he discovered he was a weapon, he took the chance to drop the Evans’s family tradition of producing musicians and started a new life.

but why? it’s never explicitly said that his home was a bad environment for him, only that he felt pressure to continue to uphold the esteemed family’s reputation. growing up under such a big shadow would produce that reaction in just about anyone. perhaps it’s soul’s running away that’s the most telling aspect of his life pre-DWMA. not only does he book it out of his home and into Nevada, but he completely tries to erase everything he was- the Wiki page on him states, “Memories of his past still affect him emotionally, so much so that he prefers to forget them entirely.” Pressure to be successful, while extremely stress-inducing, wouldn’t likely make him like this, unless his family was actively exerting this pressure on him. If his parents had reassured him that he didn’t have to fill in their shoes, he probably wouldn’t have run away, but would have rather gotten permission to enter the DWMA as per his request. But, that’s not what happened.

parents who live vicariously through their children put them through a lot of stress and oftentimes, that results in the child feeling unable to live up to their expectations, which turns into a low self-esteem complex. the child will either try hard to live up to those expectations, or give up entirely: soul chose the latter. as for his self-esteem, you can see this just about anywhere: he often compares himself to other people. he compares himself to his brother when it comes to his music skill, and he compares his abilities as a weapon to that of Giriko and Justin, both of whom can fight proficiently without a meister.

so, soul evans left his home and his name behind, ready to re-invent himself into the total antithesis of what he was going to be raised to be. which leads us into…

the image of ‘coolness’

soul’s beginning personality and appearance is the most well-known- a laid back, chill dude that worshiped the idea of “coolness”. during this stage, he was impulsive like Maka was, but for entirely different reasons: where maka would often act on emotion, soul would try to take shortcuts to get things done a lot quicker- this is shown in the first chapter when he tries to full-on charge through blair’s window instead of coming up with some sort of battle tactic. this is also in-line with the typical cool guy archetype- the guy that doesn’t take any shit from anyone, and who doesn’t think before he acts because only un-cool nerdasses do that. when an event occurs that makes Soul seem anything other than detached and in-charge, he clearly notes how “uncool” the situation is in an attempt to save face. noting soul’s typical personality during combat situations (i.e. advising maka to keep her guard up, seeing situations about five steps ahead, stressing the importance of plans), the moments of impulsive behavior he does have seems rather forced.

his past easily explains why he does this: he doesn’t want to be like his family. he isn’t soul evans, he’s soul eater. his insecurity caused by a rigid upbringing turns him to over-compensate by building this “cool guy” image, which is also the epitome of ‘Western Masculinity’.

here comes the speculation piece: while i don’t believe you need to justify trans headcanons with explanations to make them valid, soul’s narrative illustrates a very familiar one: a lot of trans kids who are first starting out often over-compensate to try to mold themselves into the cis-normative perceptions of gender in society. i definitely remember my first year of my transition, trying every which way to look and talk different, walk different, like different things, even changing the way i sat down: since i was trans, i felt that i had to over-compensate and make up for my transness. soul’s over-compensation when trying to be and act “cool” definitely parallels that.

as time goes on, Soul begins to come into his own, after the first Crona encounter gave him yet another pair of eyes to criticize him:

The Little Ogre

the circumstances in which he earned this pest serve as the catalyst for his change in personality. trying to protect Maka from Ragnarok after she’d refused to use soul to block the hits from the sword, he became gravely injured and infected with the Black Blood. it’s after this that his maturity begins to show, but isn’t quite as apparent until the Kishin Revival arc, and the Little Ogre is introduced.

through the series, the Little Ogre serves as an internal conflict for Soul, harping on him through all of his decisions: he’s too patient, he plans too often, he’s too scared, he’s too anxious, he holds back too much. all of this are feelings that soul knew he had, but never had them pointed out (likely because he never confided in anyone about these issues). this causes Soul to try to prove the Little Ogre wrong by either doing the opposite of what he’s being criticized for, or carry on what he’s doing and try to be successful while doing it. considering soul’s past and his lack of motivation due to being pushed too hard, it’s strange to see the Ogre’s insults actually motivate him: but, perhaps since this conflict is internal, and the Ogre is a facet of his mind, he sees the end goal as less of an unattainable one and more of something to work towards. one of the criticisms that really got to him, though, was that he was lacking in something really big:

the courage his meister had

(yikes that was a really bad segue)

it’s easy to see that maka and soul were created to be two sides of the same coin- opposite. soul’s eyes are red, while maka’s are green- they’re contrasting colors. soul’s soul (i never wanna use that phrase again) is blue, while maka’s is orange, which are, again, contrasting colors. their approaches to battle are vastly different, as well. maka acts on emotion, on what seems like the best option at that very second, rather than detailed observation. soul, being the weapon, observes the situation from every angle, keeping calm in most situations so that he can think a way out of any predicament: a great way to balance out his impulsive technician.

however, it’s his tendency to overthink that holds him back. the Ogre had commented that he makes decisions by way of elimination, not daring to act until the only logical path is an option. there aren’t many examples in which this messes up maka’s or his ability to fight: after all, maka is a very smart girl. but, soul’s inability to act affects him personally. he’s shown to have no direction in his life or conviction of his own, which is probably left-over effects from his life as an Evans. after all, if every moment of his life was planned, how was he ever to learn that he had a will of his own?

it was the courage maka had that motivated Soul to take some direction in his life. in fact, she’s the reason he does a lot of things. albeit indirectly and in no way to blame, maka was the reason he was infected with the Black Blood- he’d acted impulsively and out of emotion in order to fulfill his duty as a weapon: to protect. soul was a source of sage advice for maka, someone who would see the plan out to ensure their safety at all times. maka, in turn, was a source of courage and motivation for soul.

it’s this dynamic that pushes both of them forward, up until they finally achieve the goal of creating a death scythe:

while i could go on and talk about all of the facets of his character, from his strong friendship with blackstar, to his struggles in the book of eibon , this analysis is already mcfucking essay length lmao

if anyone requests a part two tho, i’ll most definitely do it

#long post #character analysis #soul eater #soul #headcanons #trans headcanons #this took me over an hour to write go me

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castlehead · 7 years

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[BENEATH THE PLYMOUTH. chapter nine, conclusion]

I. Can’t life end again, before the sun Goes down over the hills like a parasol? Life polluting our heads with questions That don’t know their own answers …

Then why give it us? the private said. I mean,

Armies kill and are killed for these, and ya En’ up with what monstrous

Bleakness stripes in blood; that is your prize. With flagging limbs I speak my Rage at the enemy. My True Veteran Rage, Which is my food and drink, I cross the

Battlefield and I singlefile my bros And doesn’t this matrix of bootstring Done up on you quicker now if We get incoming fighter jets? You are Meanwhile living it up like a damn Yossarian with them foolish virgins The new recruits till I

Send again for u to drive another imbalance right Weepwoop weepwoop weepwoop

Tried and true are the men to get killed first After all, nothing like

Deaths of honorable men To stew up the lesser rage of cowards for to deal In lamenting them, as if it were for fun, sportiness,

Oratory, red and blue lights! crack Open a cold one with the boys! magnifico! raises

Chalice to those sent to a Rightful place in the heavens, those Weak mounds or plots now, some Severed from life by the single nip Of severe pill intake after the war

You’re too fucking good for a life of Seizures take this xanax instead.

. . . . . . . . .

What am I doing I am here, I am atop a mountain, lets call it, Am breathing full for the first time, In my headspace I persist An effluvium; while a desperate gush’f a need For sanctuary tells me I am far from Ahead of turning this damfool twilight In my head away from its Croaking doubts, and guilts, Can barely.

This Twilight, What have I left to examine of you? I say Sagely to the private, do all that you did, as well Upon / A separate, spent drift, perspective, etc.,

While the wolfish / Folk don caps Of what they wrongly think they

Are. This could be a story about why I wanted to kill myself Or it could be about whatever I want to make it about, Hopefully something, something less dramatic. Well. I hope you like it. I worked very hard on it. It Makes me want to weep to think of it, and yet I must, I want to tell you all of what it means to make a difference Atop a mountain, I see you there, my love, Please, please love me, there is not much I can say Except, love me. All this daft World. All of its haunting Contradictions, nifty spools out of sense I cause

Rounding the corner, get them, chase them, Go deep into the forest, up the climate. Up, Up

Have you found, the little that speech can give you back is width enough for a heart in grief to corrode Or two? Sleep, sleep, dear one. I have ye, ye is much obliged to nurture me myself, but unlike I you, u dont have to me, For I nurture myself well enough already. This someone else in this house of mirrors you keep talking about, quaking With unfed genius, and whom is monster, monster, knocks upon the head, to heel up This phantasm, intimidate it backwards a little, scorn its brunt, then deftly reconnoiter With it later back at the chasm’s lost wrinkle there where not one minute of time is spent not laughing about the situation. A light could swiftly get penetrant the brains of the unfed genius, the wreck, The wry one, the lost thing betokening all worlds’ wishing that human vanity hath brayed like a horse for, and Prayed, prayed for, to congeal as even the protozoa of a spark at the top of a mountain; to let hope congeal in plenty as the blizzard Of the century to garnish the summit.

You have the prototype, but it is a him, and he is to love what love had always needed to Be! We mold and mold what we want the world to be, mold it out of a wish Or three,

. . . . . . . . .

II. Each interesting temperament says hello to me, Before fleeing from me,

They pass and pass like they meant something once but won’t tell Anymore, as I wait to be given back what has been once robbed, still

Hell. What’s the difference really? Been once asking me for the last Of its energies, itself will change, always change. So it goes with The whims of opinion, as to what sits well in one’s stomach,

Or if not that at most just rumbles hungrily there, or gets one’s noticing Depreciating, or not. Anything wld lead me to an answer I’d get besotted of,

Ornate reasons for expression are my thing. Showy excuses for my skewed bind called my life.

That rattle here and there around the point I try to make a success As the voltage is turned on I mark my last of humanity goodbye,

As I remember ur indolence / I so forget my Thoughts, feelings, guilts, shames.

And it is mostly all the same. Watch me empty buckets of sorrow! My eyes. My continual essence is such a pain in the ass. I prefer Additional things in the mix, more than mere sadness. But Our relative experience, though relative, would try to deny Us that even, wouldn’t it? That all could simplify into an urge For relief, something that goes against the little voice That says, These are more than just

Words. But I want them to mean something, really, I really do; want them to bring you places, string You along on their meanings, bobbing and chafing:

Even by faith there being a verbal string to the argument Makes an argument. Reason’s transcendent like That and can make for bitchin’ metaphysical

Recognizingz. What. Something crucial loafs In my empty canister called body. So sue me. It, that is, What I am, doesn’t do anything there but magically

Stays aloof without disappearing: this buried thing: well I Daze myself off into space and meet you there, like, In space: and anyway waiting too long would

Be a rightful hazard for my personality to squeal about In being aloof. I have no ridiculous thing to write But instead forth go into magnifying what is said

Already like a patient requiring ibuprofen by exaggerating The pain that is still pain. More fun is this, this getting Shot with a gun-syringe of aenesthetics: they

Say “Ready for time out” when they do it: You wake up later feeling licked

Like, like a trainwreck, vibrating in freezing AC cold.

Yet if the headache’s needed, then, getting It treated should squelch the purpose. Leave my maladies There, you kno, safe in the trinketbox. Leave me traumatically

Unaided. Like until I hanker badly for an answer myself That I try and remember to give after the longest Period of time possible. So if I can’t,

I want. Feel so stifled. What is important to you: Making sense but making sense new: making poetic Thinking a type of poetry in itself: it works after all:

Let’s ask that question: if I am ambient in my relative Nature, or if the vibe is something more jagged, Which is already something wavy and ambient, An eccentric trick of the mind to woozle itself Into angles of self and pithy creation would Eventually present itself; but do not do it. Yu will not remember how for the life of you. It will just be a picture you see of what you want. Such ignorance

Fascinates one into playing, like, by their own rules, starting To play with concepts. I want to stick to one but Don’t even have one. Strange taste

In my mouth there is. So much there is of self That committing to one thing, even per page, is Backwards, bawdy, bluntly reasonable tho

Past its secure, random prints the weird entry Glamorizes, then makes a thing: I went to those to Mean something, like, went to the words, I mean:

What of it: this is going to be something I Hopefully do not regret, that my large, shiny being notices as Light through the window, getting reflected on by the closing

Door of a car: don’t doom me to just that though: I am a searcher: I’m trying really hard: doe a deer, Blabla: I have the right wrinkles for to

Explain my argument sideways: planecrash: Runtish reason, bleed me out of you into a body My own, hopefully: fuck my answers

For everything: I don’t care about the bad choices. The, that is, horrible reasoning, is not, is a Way, a new one, to work my way

Through poetic thought: my elbows hurt for example: My back does: a weird taste in my mouth: righteous Diligence, give me some rapport with

These words, craft em like gems that are squeezxed And tormented to life, force it, force it to live, I need This living thing in me to express its repressed

Stuff so long repelled: don’t do me like A normal, hoggish perspective on the matchlit Cave we squander through: through and through,

I impress upon myself impressive gonging shouts, Right?: or do I never mention the invisibleness of What I speak of, you know, outside of just then.

. . . . . . . . .

Despite my own personal dilemmas, I have An element unknown by this practice,

Settled in decisive waves of calendar And rotation, space and juxtaposing,

Retracted stuff and statements left bled till Steam lost. I have these unknowavles

Without constraint as things my diction nails To the wall of the page. But I have

Dilemmas, things I create for to Be baffled by them, scorn, growls,

Soggy mittens in wintertime. Nothing Counterintuitive, I always say, gets past me.

I allow those confusions room in my material Cell, breathe out flowering my spent

Petals to a floor of verbiage. OK. What can I say ?? Though ?? Really,

That the cricketsong is unbelievable, The night drinks up that thick

Music; that everything now is considerable, And I decently understand; and that

Everything, even what I do not know, Is important. So as to this,

III. Constantly, barely on a cuticle Would reality seem to stand for us;

You are not so fine, so tenuous as your situation, which is reality, And which offers up zero places for you to trip and fall into the sky.

Regretfully at that would the whole of reality disappear, as Soon as there were not these gravitational beings humans are, To classify and disseminate reality, which is in other words not What you think it is but what you will never see it as and more,

More than just a pretty thang, due to a sounding sunlight, due to, To say, an obstreperous daygloss over the city; but is in the worlds Behind admitting a lack of a name for this non-language, which Although remarkably loud on the still, static eaves, seems [yes] To have come overnight with the junipers. But the sense of sight,

The sense of sight simply was not auditory. And other things, Were fine, were fine as cuticle. Now, as for the problem of sight,– It was already a completely different sensory-experience, one I watched at once go wither off many roofs like flakes, go silent By the weeping mud round their walls overtook by river, but This not immediately. A sourceless jangling like of jewelry first:

Shattering out-seeming a white sun: a wake of these fragile things. Like paint-chips. Saw something, somehow ornamenting rays,– Wither from my grasping. For back then I’d left the peanut Gallery as per usual, my focus on imagination’s latest fare,

As I walked away from my cute little fucking friends or whoever. They went off none wiser, lolling their tongues At stonyfaced adults, so

I chose pursuing possible phenomena: I sense-guessed some Strange thing off there to my side, and in my sight alone:

It was as light, yet if light had A sound, a fastidious muttering to,

To complement its urging bright, and Brilliantine crisp form, giving

Marker in particular, as I noticed more, those looser, tattered Parts of sun and chidden dun. So as, in physicality or Whatever manifesting this gets called, to make

It sound its shifting throughout all degrees, cajoling and Maneuvering almost as if it had feet tapping steps to take.

I was 10, and though I kept awhile that booming stepping light In thickspun places for my mind to go and mend an ear for, And. Back me to that spot, so that itself the unilateral instant

Of perception would not dim, well so it dimmed, And I forgot the noise;

Cotton fills between my ears at the thought, to the point I you know like wouldn’t barely hear a foghorn; then Aggravation past recalling. I can’t now even know if

Anything is absent. That’s how bad it is. Events, E’en if they’d been in paint, certain ones’re more Past recalling than the bluntest detail

Of whatever I’d kept warm enough of it all, by The fire of possible to picture, there, you Know: in the mind’s eye. More important to Remember the erasure electrodes could feed Than the one they could stifle with a ball-gag.

That raged-out delight in your eye could Seed in you and with enough

Of this obscure hallucinogen consumed, zoom the pneumatic Parturitions what had been waiting to canter out out in hot Speech straight from braincavity, for

The benefit of your local Shaman: Into the brushy groins thus go

The Cocky British Adventurers, searching for the fountain Of youth, or at least some village where they can get high. The voodoo dey is pay to see, like, to cure incontinence;

Don’t tell! By the barrel in transport go things to forgetting; A given day, from spore to spore remits; direction is avoided Like a bad thing so we all go back to where it growed from

In the states. More than inner leagues of a breastbone, This is a serious matter. Or rooms we might Could spend all day a-lounge

Upon our rucksacks waiting for inherited luck To be what haunts us, that to crumble, buckle, Quick to breathe, then nothing,–would not so Succeed: spirit pulls us from the fingers of spirit With grand tweezerpairs,

But: what of the dangerous chemical overlapping, could that not Melt any elated feeling straight between its own two hands Lifting it, fruiting out the cracks, from that elation, once again, Which: are nay pieces of the will to dry up the anima/animus For good: like British testicles in the Rainforest its, your Very hands do not, refuse to

Let you handle, now, because, you Know, it will burn for awhile if even it, whatever is Controlling the nefarious block between

Whatever happiness of a sort and their significant Person: birthed into that happy flesh, that skin, That thing that will remind one, you, of the fabulous,

Unshed lair at the foot of the mean, corrosive stairs, Pregnant with mercy for the steps of light on it only.

Listen: go by that so as to seize new life: if wholly for more Artful-slung ascents, wax the temples of yr head And go under, and send accents of voltage, Pole to pole to pole.

WE ALL OF US are of what WE were,

Which cannot gather ‘mustard’ nor In mustering it up should you go without A sort of wheeling will: well: no soul should be Without a healing will: it which fights between Your lungs and what your heart insists

Was, has been there before: they, uh Will know they are observed And know not to do so There now; this too

Comes as natural As all these, as ventricle. There’s An aqueduct to tamper with.

Mine and mine through it–all the overwhelming shit of it all, For stuff yours. Just, don’t

Besiege, sweat and Sweat to illness; or make it yours; or do you and I,

Walking down the dirt road with our selves styled right in front Of us at the edge of madness–meanwhile, the road is at the edge Of the psychiatric hospital–pursue towards our to us so-so Talismans, like the reveille to break ‘us all’ into morning,

With an empiric dournesss and a poetic somberness like dirty rocks? Nay hope to find for this or that eclogue, a meaning punctual, as

We clean them like pissed Jockys, Answering only for the gold but in a

Locked eye–or interminable, breathless moment. These could Be spied by some among

Us less romantic as the crummy afterburners Of a godhead: but to us and others like ourselves not morsel at all, But at the very head

Of the war, and us the blood-mud of a battered theatre, rocketing For battlefield-next; to capture a frantic vibe or two

As might well make us frantic? To display The snack and succor of our wellbeing again, that is; Perhaps in a happiness the other there, at least

–Amongst these mossy graves: where yours, my, and Our ideologies get bestowed on, stoic although out of order, us, Again. Like some gift cherishing its other one,

We blind to our own cherishing. We tempted to hunker into place

On the flat of a large rock: and still we worry of A frightening mishearing of the argot from the first

To spell you out as tending to follow your arbitrary wisps again, Dodging the spitting of these asps forlorn by the same proxy Sense walks out to let fill for it too, whom try and try in fidgets To tell you realistically: you is, uh

Mercurial to sell your snappy deathtraps To the others sitting hunching In the back of the light, awaiting the unveiling Of The Random Vision: it all, and it will, flies back at you, The one elated: from their dark shelters it comes To make that noise you knew only light to. Then, as the speech

Of one given so much to dreams that it were a Sickness the mind ingratiated unto the Rest gives up the ghost and calls itself the same thing

Given to these corruptible seconds you’d happened to get The high beams on at the correct angle of phrasing-light, and Especially since it was not found, and by it I mean, this

Especial species, while scoping out out of greed for an exotic Metaphysical animal rustling softly somewhere dangerous along The curtain, made entirely of infinities: you

Waited for to steal the show, but, then, kabamm, And we lose it: our salutary mistresses

Delayed the minstrelsy, time melted, weak shooting At a fenced-in target: as we themselves blast

All motors, play chicken with feelings fine as cuticle: the Cheering to get mutuality in a busted zipper halfway Down the coat: I sleep in a cot: don’t feel sorry: for you:

Our someplace mistakes beautifully without any Communication’s dotage, without interest, In it for the art: usher us along this rock a bit, And all to stomp down the feeling.

The freckled derelict impetuous parts Our molded forming spits panoply to graciously, as Our freeze of eye at each other, and with that a dolor of collar And crimp at the shoulder, and hands to arms clasping Tenderness to the hilarious sound of trombones:

To filtered, moribund animosity all is as spiritual adiposity, and to The spine’s own place in hurting is there a weakest when true

Hue. Trickling Minuses down each disc, doth it, doth it doth it, and Bring you to the tomb the tomb, tomb, tomb.

Happiness focused atom-wise to blathering lambs’ limbs’ Context pillowy gets us confuséd fledged from right to left

And then to do, uh, do so is Yet the where where is someplace stronger, smaller. Right eh ?? The speech, argot, recommends its woes Like fashionable trinkets at a gas station. And decides

Us to go down the drain like toiletflush these untimely Dissimilars, once posh, now as but the gourmand’s Misery. Before the game, he ate a bunch of hotdogs,

Came to the eating contest for a snack. Yet which is of tidings Is that being flatlined on nonbeing like a medley of thrown

Sounds through to the end of the roll of the last toilet -paper in the WholeWORLDEver. Crates us as off

We go like in a box to nice otherness, while Seconds remind us of the ghost

In the moon we forgot to call mightily and we are Now stuck in this bricklump desuetude.

In the very moon our trembling lips lie about knowing it Afar, and I care not how long the line spits landscape; Don’t; or does perhaps. I want to speak visions Of colors. And now for another

Thing: this is different because it leaves up to discussion The rather ornamental debacle. Dry squalor.

Heated up desertions of eye. Fickle hold, o hold. Broken record you is. Well: my army had Nothing with it come to much

But a father what that grabbed the attitude off The collar of the young punk with spots on’is faythe. Like golly.

Repetition you let us pay for your drinks And get stabbed like Marlowe in the eye. Shiver, Species. For it is what we tell you do.

Collective unconscious needs dramamine stash, before All civilization hurls into the closest bucket and- -Frightens the children. Pellucid is the sky’s heart. He’ll know what to do and, uh, what forgive.

Something cold in this heart. Heal me, heart. Respond A bit too soon to the call. Discuss politics. Fuck you. And be Young Joyce uncomprehending at the

Christmas table with Old Dante Muckering up the gaffe of talking blunt about

The PRIME MINISTER Bad gaffe made the more.–

I took a thousand stout men and made them soldiers. Still the question was not solved: do we or do we not Exist: I founded lackeys like the Prime Mover I is. I am, Tell me, young lamb, [eyecontact] I am like

Roses sweet-smelling yes. I have an ankle that is a chip off

The shoulder and there is so much you’d never suspect through The blinds: you are blind to much: anything but old rinds I give

You to see. Of cataclysmic woe, Is uncouth to say it comes, betimes Betimes.

I natty up the RansomStash of money, think I hurl in some other dimensionanony

Rubbled out of zeitgeist. Like what’s left of what Was once important. MAKE EVERYTHING EXPLODE Says the mind, to the maker, and dirigible the static Plane being’s on or is not on. I have a backache. A good part of the poem is that you do not

Know who the referent ‘I’ is. Wonder retracting statements From itself is and remains the wonder of those statements It did not pursue, nor highlight.

That’s what I tell yeh. My GOD who how he did it ?? Till next horn’s blowing.

The new fodder’s here.

I look at my watch all pithy. I want to talk about something

Different, Now:

IV. These moving things, in

Front of my memory are in front there, as if they could be In front: preparing to be remembered. As like water floating On air, an air once obvious lightness, now heavy but only as Waged by its distinction plashing down weightless;

A rose fighting God for a crumb. What I thought mine,

The diviningrod for the gold that is as it is, while The dappled glinting hurlings-out of sun its Buried symbolism: the rod was looking Surly and sad at me

With its inanimate, punk-poker countenance, asking an Arresting conference between myself and all What is in the coming-trough of that

Empty ray my sun begins behind, waiting For the lordly entropy unkind bids for power Wreak of all over the mystified Others’ whispered Commissions to blesséd rekindlings of an ease For suns as mine, and for them

Eagerer plumbs the problem into the general, poetic Selfhood you and I equate to the choral bastion For all the body politic to get unto itself

A final haunt for meetings with those in the field; First, get me to the shallow symbol quicker, for The more is, within, that is

Our fighting, unfound parts, found Out to their believing-to-be-seen, awkward, Aggrandizing root, the more is seen Human all our trickling signs;

As, for example, the professor nodding Dipping glasses from eyes might say

Profoundly, You have me breach into your sociopathy: Behind these displayed tears eyes mutely Carry over bucket by bucket

Past the lids, then Closed goes your roving imagination To the many grunted teachings, wanders to

The place affect and displeasure dwell In commune much as the sun and moon Are. You contrive and contrive Despite a lack of closure. Evil

Grunts; then, the old magician steps upon his Own tricky sidewalk, back broken, spine Flailing out of the flesh like

Sides of things intentionally prized, for Being many-sided, being peripheral, being thus The clamp-down on upon the rift between a Self and self, the murderous wage, a drifting Buoyed survival technique, culminating In the petty boutique where make fancy our

Designer desires. Manically let you grin, let you-

-And find me there and bitterly beneath your skin, Interred, an errant bug clutched by the teeth Of cells, entirely made of mature dismay

At this rattling feature or that, a singing twitch Ersatz dissolves in simply prudery, although the Match is boundless once uncovered to its Eloquent extremes, its funny bets

Atop a covered wagon on the turnpike to Work, ensuing gases here and there, plucking Marred hairs and ingrown nails from the More similar decripitudes of life, yet leaving still

The undone pyre of waxing-worship to Intend itself beyond, beyond a folly, and beyond An enigmatic coach a breed of stag gallops With, like a friend, a friend or fiend,

A whipping to the nakedness our traveling, A scorching of impassioned earthen to What’s the sillier darkness of conceit, deceit, Received by amplifying weeping, or By entrancing the metaphoric tides an Element-electric wouldn’t send

To the chop-house. Let whom lay beneath The tarpaulin conceive this second poem with Next day’s wrathful heat to incubate

Idea, idea of shrouded modern people Messing with themselves with chemical And flirty doctrines flirting on the bilious; We are about what sadly is not serious.

And you, cheap gourmand, upon his food And slaughtering by the minute every truth His 'times’ replayed like plays in college football

Or, which multiplied disheartening with Kids; which antiquated meme and vine impelled To the furnace, and were meant to be an irony Without a foreground, or just merely funny Will, in time, call all of itself lamed

By richer generations whom do not tie severely The knot so early, nor that one of frame-of-mind,

Nor vicious as the adding of more poem to This poem, this tape, this wrong, this blare,

This carousel, could our analyses of flickering face Be less human than the rest. Dispassionate tools.

. . . . .

To jealous the color of every real ordinary. Mass composites are what the want want To be: load up my carriage, run faces by me For the right one to win

Me over, roam grim sealingwax doubles Like they were the robotic asswipe Your linear ability commands to howitzer The shit out of. I want

To destroy all the air. Then of course, would fain destroy This feigned couscous, by words Jellied in the fridge next to the words, and which gets Warmed up, connotes feelings words alive Trumpet menagerie by menagerie. Flown out of itself

The memory wants back to mentioning, Dries off on the water: the weight of all of this Wants to invite God and the rose To brunch, you know, just to talk

About maybe focusing instead on the sad Memory, unsaid. Split like atom

The discontented flash of thundering. The only thing deeper is unwanted

By you, though you think you do, but no, you Do not, do not know what you

Want from these tears the Result of a brief squabble that should Have been rightly emptied into

The Well Of Lidded Impactfulnation, I mean, man, imaginpainshun. The sidewalk entered a flaccidity unbefore Seen, saturated by these decked freckles of Unbelievable, haunting rain as

The city burned just to get some light On this one page in shadow or Night merely spilled,

Rotting, all over this oops And contracted by the mean tacklers Of bulls. Then revert to those gutted, realize

The pen is dusty and empty, the tears A stupid fragility that makes broke the back Of a mountain not included in

The latest Jake Gyllenhaal deluxe set Of withered, weathered - - sexual frustration In the form of abstract painting full of themselves That is, mainly stuffed with their own selves, Which, pretty much, is everybody you Just had fight with, like, what

They are like, since we’re filled with Ourselves or at worst another fills or is filled By us, which is dangerous especially For emotional bohemians on the klutzy radar Muttering germs of new shit In the corner, like, the

Corner of the crooning voice you can’t place, Can’t raise, faze, amaze, or daze; What ridiculous fun it is to chop the world in half, Leaving only robotic faces tunefully chosen In essence. Maybe you lose the song But it comes back early once That nifty ‘copsiren simulator’ busts Everyone fleeing from the party, and an Avalanche of high folk pour out

Like tears of once what was, unto lids, The resultant dripping, squeezed into their lighted Aspect, performing light again

On the random Chair of Life where drunk poet sit, Whispering saturated sidewalks, eating couscous

By themself, since everyone of us has turned Into a wax rendition of the invisible, and by this Needle of a difference doth split the chained

Opines of unhealable hunger’s dust Where the bulls we fear once were, are not At present.

Dance, dance, ludicrous, failing mind, for nigh you won’t again So mourn, you, rebel from the rest of yourself and die,

Remove in revving happiness up what hath Embraced you, baffled, from two steps away.

It is the corner’s voice. It is the coroner’s voice, bespeaking Valuable Soul, but sans shirt, shoe

. . . . . . .

truly keep me in your bad massacred heart that lunges against your ribcage like it’s selling something it’s like an animal against you you know

find out what lingers between you and beats and stales there and planetary in the dust without a friend but the one you pay for

without an anchor you live your life to listen for some kinetic power somewhere there

unduly and lacking but what you have pawed at for so long now you have

it so live to stir people do such well this man is a tired broken thing wearing an old tattered coat he is grimacing against the bitter cold and

of his way of writing he is sure that he is without an echo back to himself peacefully he lights a fire beneath his fragrant ass he is of the metronome of fart and feeling in feeling

it is in the basics you reach for the flower in my lungs through my throat you have an ascertaining of body in your body

you wild as fire wrinkle orange and yellow separately of it you are the fire of beauty of both

you stick to listening to what’s between the chambers of desire your mind goes crazy and gets stuck in yet

without feelings without the hope of feelings you still feel you are the argot of feelings you want to waste your life trying to fix me I want to taste my life in your ice cream’d hands I want to desire the reality behind things a bit

I want to hire another human to attend to my morals and come upon a spree of finite conclusions for me

our register of voice makes enough of that for the two of us to hear it however low

to wander throughout and divide the equation we would have solved using another’s breathy brain

tell me I am true for what I think of that is that I am untrue tell me my own wrinkles of fire again despoil meaning from the craning of my neck to look upwards at a sky filled with myself filled with the clouds of myself and it makes

me go away into the feelings try me with those feelings and keep my hunch cracked like the tar across the road reality follows

driven by those high and fruitful voices…

#poetry #poem #powtry #pome #depth as predicament #the sad truth of it all

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rokurookajima · 7 years

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chilling at a coffee shop but i don’t have any schoolwork to do so i don’t know what to do with myself, here are some questions and answers

send me a fruit

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?

i do i think at this point i have 13 piercings and 11 tattoos?? which is truly not that many at least for tattoos i guess that’s kind of a lot of piercings raspberry: favorite flower?

i’m rlly not sure all flowers are pretty but i think i prefer like just plants to flowers, like succulents and herb plans and stuff. i have a tattoo of sage coffee and basil, so i’d say those are some favorite plants lemon: do you have any pets? what are their names?

none of my pets live with me now bc they’re still at my parents house, but i have two cats named snickers and sunshine, and a bulldog named dallas

mango: what is your trademark?

wow idk overthinking and always being five minutes away from crying??? funny story tho for literally 13 years i wore this black tattoo choker and never took it off that whole time so that was a trademark for a long ass time. now it’s probably like. purple hair. i guess passion fruit: how would you describe your style?

so for like 2 years i’ve just been describing my style as “american apparel” bc a good portion of my clothes are all from there, and the ones that aren’t, still had that same sort of aesthetic. but now american apparel is CLOSED idk how much longer i can say that before that won’t conjure a concise visual anymore. but rlly it’s pretty simple. highwaisted pants, crop tops, solid plain colors, no patterns except stripes sometimes, a lot of army green pineapple: sexual orientation?

i used to identify as pansexual, but in recent years i’ve been saying bisexual a lot more mostly bc when i talk about it in real life it’s easier to just say bisexual bc everybody knows what that means than to try and explain pansexual, and since then i feel like way more comfortable with that label but im chill with either one. not to say they’re exactly the same but??? y’know. i’ve only had romantic/sexual relationships with men thus far but maybe one day the girl of my dreams will sweep me off my feet strawberry: favorite desserts?

i’m way more of a salty food person than sweet, but y’know desserts are still always good. i rlly like baked goods a lot, like pastries and shit. plain croissants are one of my favorite things in the world, pumpkin pie bc wow fall i’m basic ok a lot of others i mean there’s really no dessert i don’t like cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing?

here’s the thing for most of my life, singing was the one thing i always felt confident in saying i was actually good at. bc i really don’t feel like i’m good at a lot of things, and have always had those kind of feelings. i used to sing wayyyyy better than i do now tho lmao i took singing lessons for years bc i once planned to go into theater as a career path, so my voice used to be way stronger with a way bigger range that has sadly decreased from lack of use. but i mean i guess i can still sing pretty okay. i’ve played the guitar since i was 10, took lessons from 10-17. now i don’t play nearly as often as i used to, but break it out every now and then grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go?

right now i really really want to go to the pacific northwest, like portland and seattle, and also go up to canada and stay in vancouver. vancouver seems like such a cool city i’m very into it.

banana: favorite horror movies?

what a QUESTION. ok wow gotta break this down into sub categories i love horror movies and i think about this a lot. for like straight up horror that i love and think are legitimately good movies, american mary, antiviral, it follows, the vvitch, green room, creep (the mark duplass one), daybreakers, ginger snaps, the blair witch project, the silence of the lambs...for like, horror comedies, tusk and murder party & rlly if we wanna count it as horror since it’s about vampires, what we do in the shadows. for like. guilty pleasures/so bad they're good...all the saw movies, devil’s pass, silent hill revelation. and of course, my favorite sub category of all, horror musicals lmao. obviously repo! the genetic opera, both the devil’s carnivals, sweeney todd, i really need there to be more horror musicals tbh blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama?

lmao it’s one of those kind of good kind of shitty coming of age mumble core indie movies. bc i mean rlly. art student, weird druggie friends, everybody is in fucky relationships, we go to waffle house a lot. it’s perfect pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident?

lmao also what a question. i guess every now and then i just have random days where i feel rlly good about how i look, usually bc i did something good with my makeup or put together a look i feel good about that’s different from usual, or just like am being blessed by god that day. i feel more confident with my friends typically than when i’m like somewhere alone. also rlly weirdly i probably feel the most confident about myself over all like...during straight up sexual situations. not like in the build up before when it’s like all rlly uncertain and you’re not sure if it’s gonna happen. but like. when you’re for sure certain the person you’re with is already attracted to you and on board with the whole thing and you're just like. ready to GO. i feel pretty confident then. which i always forget til i’m actually in that situation. cantaloupe: what are your parents' names?

good ol dave and mariann guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup?

all of the above m8. like idk if this is specifically asking what i prefer to wear or what i actually wear more often. bc i mean most of the time, it’s relatively natural or literally just eyebrows and nothing else. most days if i’m actually trying to put on makeup, but don’t have a reason to be dramatic, i just do winged eye liner. but if i have an event or i’m just feeling rlly extra, i love to do more dramatic stuff like red eyeshadow and shit like that tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be?

idk could i just be a woman with antlers. no other animal parts or anything. i just want antlers plum: favorite clothing brands?

rest in peace my sweet sweet american apparel. i rlly don’t know otherwise. i like uniqlo stuff, but haven’t gotten to shop there much ever bc there are no stores around me at all. american apparel was rlly my only brand loyal brand. i don’t know where to go now coconut: favorite perfume?

i’ve been using viva la juicy from juicy couture since i was 13 lmao lychee: satin or lace?

lace blueberry: what do you want to dress up as for halloween?

hmmm that’s a good question too. i’m not sure yet. it’s only the end of april so i mean i have a lot of time to think, but i have no clue i should get on that apple: what do you use more, tumblr or twitter?

probably tumblr, but i’ve used twitter a lot more in the last few months than ever just to tweet dumb things to my friends. i also rlly like seeing content from people i know/vaguely know irl more than anything else at this point, so i like twitter a lot for that. kiwi: what's something that fascinates you?

uh wow??? a lot of things i guess. i’m pretty fascinated by like...specific niche subcultures?? which is a very vague thing to say but i guess like. there’s this scene in the city i go to school in (guess i live here now too lmao) that i’ve like kind of become a part of, but won’t ever be like as fully a member bc most of them grew up here and went to the same high school, and i find them so interesting. they’re all like kind of ridiculous and a lot of them are kind of pretentious but wow it’s fascinating. guess i’m just really fascinated by people that come from different backgrounds than me?? bc i came from such a like. small, concentrated type of environment from going to the same school for 12 years and being raised in a very religious type of climate, it’s always so interesting to hear about people who were raised completely away from religion and stuff like that. i like hearing about people’s childhoods and high school experiences and what their parents are like watermelon: do you have a job? if so, what is your job title?

lmao yes i work at a medical billing company and i think my official title is “medical billing clerk” papaya: what song describes your aesthetic?

this is also such a GOOD question wtf. but wow this is really hard?? i’m not sure. one of the first songs that came to mind so i feel like that means it must be somewhat true was off to the races by lana del rey. which rlly is a kind of aesthetic i’m into, like the gross dirty vibes of new york city underground, weird sexual tones, that kinda shit. and i h8 myself but i mean. repo! the genetic opera pretty much shaped a good portion of my aesthetic, so i mean truly the soundtrack describes that aesthetic, specifically zydrate anatomy and night surgeon cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

i rlly like the morning for the vibes and atmosphere most of the time, but i rlly don’t like getting up for it. and it’s also kind of just...contingent on a lot of factors how much i like the morning vibe?? i always like the dusk and nighttime feeling so i guess truly those are my favorite times of day. nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person?

lmaoooooooooo yes. yes i would. way too much so i wish i wasn’t so emotional bc i’m truly a wreck orange: do you have long eyelashes?

man i wish i have very average eye lashes apricot: what do you do when you're sad?

i mean i’m sad most of the time so what DON’T i do when i’m sad. but for real. depends on what kind of sad i’m feeling. a lot of times i’ll spend a lot of time in the bathtub when i’m sad. i usually try pretty hard to be distracted, so i’ll try to find someone to hang out with, or try to watch something distracting, but pretty much any time i’m alone and really sad, nothing actually distracts me. with people sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. sometimes i just end up telling them how sad i am, which also can sometimes help and i feel better, and sometimes just makes me feel worse for bothering them with it. basically what we can get from this is that i don’t really have any good, helpful coping mechanisms for when i’m sad, and if i did, it would probably improve my life greatly star fruit: favorite sea creature?

i honestly don’t know, i’ve never rlly thought about it. sea creatures are all pretty cool but a lot of them are also pretty scary so dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol?

yes but not that often. i like enjoy having like just a casual drink with somebody while hanging out watching a movie or something. i like mixed drinks and shit, but i’m not 21 so y’know can never actually order them. i very rarely actually drink like a lot with the intention of getting drunk, but at big parties, i’ll do that. even then i still don’t drink that much bc it doesn’t take that much for me to feel it lmao

#about me #ask meme

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at-least-ill-die-a-lionturtle · 7 years

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You know I'm going to make you answer all of the unusual questions too, right? (This is me asking you all of the unusual questions, btw. 👍)

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Spotify, even tho I FUCKING HATE IT sometimes

is your room messy or clean? Clean af lol

what color are your eyes? Basic Bitch Brown™

do you like your name? why? Eh, its okay I guess lol

what is your relationship status? Blissfully taken

describe your personality in 3 words or less. Uhhhhmmmm uhhhhhhhhh fuck

what color hair do you have? Basic Bitch Brown™

what kind of car do you drive? color? The Invisible Boatmobile

where do you shop? The fridge, sometimes the pantry

how would you describe your style? Haphazardly

favorite social media account. Matthew McConaughey’s Youtube channel

what size bed do you have? Queen

any siblings? A younger sister, an older brother, and three older sisters

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? KFC.

favorite snapchat filter? I cant remember, but I really like that one that makes your face reeeeeeeeeeeal small

favorite makeup brand(s). ♪ Make me up (MAKE ME UP INSIDE) I cant make up (MAKE ME UP INSIDE) ♫

how many times a week do you shower? 2-3 times

favorite tv show? So much

shoe size? 9-10 depending on the shoe

how tall are you? 5′8

sandals or sneakers? Those little booties they put on cats

do you go to the gym? I go to Gymboree sometimes

describe your dream date. October 31st

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? HA. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

what color socks are you wearing? I got dem white Hanes biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch

how many pillows do you sleep with? One. And a pillow pet-esqe thingie. Its a fox :3

do you have a job? what do you do? Bitch on the internet and watch Youtube

how many friends do you have? So many

whats the worst thing you have ever done? Man thats one hell of a list Im not willing to pull out today lol

whats your favorite candle scent? I really like earthy smells. Like beachwood, silver birch, meadow showers, and sage & citrus

3 favorite boy names. Shane, Jason, Max(imillian)

3 favorite girl names. Kiera, Joyce, Beth(any)

favorite actor? I dunno Will Ferrell I guess

favorite actress? Uhhhh fuckin uhhhhh Winona Ryder

who is your celebrity crush? Ryan Reynolds

favorite movie? Lion King

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? Not as much as I used to, and not really sure

money or brains? In reference to what???

do you have a nickname? what is it? Beardie, Pigblap, Ol’ Montgomery, Turtleman

how many times have you been to the hospital? A few. Got my chin patched up once. One time I had cotton stuck in my ear

top 10 favorite songs. FUCK okay here we go: Cant Stop The Feeling - Justin Timberlake, Sufferer/LA Poderosa - Stick To Your Guns, I Believe In A Thing Called Love - The Darkness, Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus, Dancing Queen - ABBA, The Suspend - Stick To Your Guns, Engine 45 - The Ghost Inside, Say It Aint So - Weezer, Everlong - Foo Fighters, Im Not Okay (I Promise) - My Chemical Romance

do you take any medications daily? I do, for my fucking heartburn BECAUSE MY BODY HATES ME

what is your skin type (oily, dry, etc)? Normal I guess, with dry tendencies. Especially after washing my hands, showering, swimming, etc

what is your biggest fear? Time

how many kids do you want? HA. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA.

whats your go to hair style? My hair style is whatever the fuck it feels like doing that day. I learned and accepted a long time ago that there is little I can do to tame my mane.

what type of house do you live in (big, small, etc)? Big

who is your role model? Pizza rolls

what was the last compliment you received? I honestly dont know lol

what was the last text you sent? I dont know man, fuck

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? I dunno, like 7 or 8 maybe?

what is your dream car? A 95 Subaru Outback station wagon, or a 2005 Ford GT

opinion on smoking? If you do, whatever. Just be mindful of other people. But I think its gross, and dont. And cant date anyone who does.

do you go to college? YOUR MOM GOES TO COLLEGE

what is your dream job? Musician/Photographer/Twitch streamer

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? I’d rather live in the city or on the outskirts. But where I live now is just fine

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? I do lol They just throw it away anyways

do you have freckles? I dont, but I has lots of birthmarks n stuff

do you smile for pictures? Sometimes, but rarely a full smile

how many pictures do you have on your phone? About 300, but some are duplicates

have you ever peed in the woods? Like, yeah lol

do you still watch cartoons? Fuck yeah. I love cartoons

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? ARE YOU MCFUCKIN KIDDIN ME???

Favorite dipping sauce? Depends on the day. And what Im dipping. Fries? Ketchup or fancy sauce (mayo & ketchup). Chicken nuggets or tenders? Boss sauce (my secret blend), bbq, sweet n sour, honey mustard, or ranch

what do you wear to bed? Usually just my underwear, sometimes shorts or pj pants when its cold

have you ever won a spelling bee? Nah but I was a boss at spelling tests in school lol

what are your hobbies? Slappin food together, playin vidya gaems, makin music on my tum

can you draw? Not at all

do you play an instrument? I play drums!

what was the last concert you saw? Uhhhhh FUCK I think it mighta been Purity Ring and HANA

tea or coffee? Coffee, but tea is nice too

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Dunkin Donuts

do you want to get married? Im already married to the ball fam

what is your crush’s first and last initial? DH

are you going to change your last name when you get married? Yeah I did when I got married. My full name is now Charles Cody Basketball

what color looks best on you? Purple, but also blue and orange

do you miss anyone right now? I do, I miss my friends back in VA

do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open, but I prefer closed

do you believe in ghosts? I diddlyiddly do

what is your biggest pet peeve? When the batteries in something go dead

last person you called? Prolly Alex lol I dunno

favorite ice cream flavor? Moose Tracks

regular oreos or golden oreos? REGULAR WHAT THE FUCK DOES ANYONE ACTUALLY EAT GOLDEN OREOS???

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Both are good

what shirt are you wearing? None lol

what is your phone background? This

are you outgoing or shy? Shy, but can be outgoing at times

do you like it when people play with your hair? 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

do you like your neighbors? I do, theyre nice folk

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? I do, just whenver I shower

have you ever been high? HIGH ON LIFE SON

have you ever been drunk? DRUNK ON THAT CAPRI SUN SHIT

last thing you ate? Cereal, Capn Crunch Donuts specifically

favorite lyrics right now. ♪ Make me up (MAKE ME UP INSIDE) I cant make up (MAKE ME UP INSIDE) ♫

summer or winter? Winter!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And also autumn

day or night? Oh yeah. This is a Kid Cudi reference. I get it. Im hip with the kids

dark, milk, or white chocolate? Milk, but white is nice too. I kinda only like dark chocolate when its those bomb ass Ghiradelli squares with the raspberry filling FUCK ME UP

favorite month? Spooktober

what is your zodiac sign? Taurus

who was the last person you cried in front of? Alex

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