#WHAT IVE BEEN TRYING TO IMPART
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i like the name Mondegreen a lot now and ive grown around it. but i also like Hollis ONLY in the sense of being "Hollidst" or "Hollid" like im some sort of bug-sounding genus name
#i think im learning a lot about myself outside of names in that the name accents me in a way thats uncontrollable. but also.#that its something that i impart to others too. like... the name becomes ME not the other way around. yknow what i mean?#i feel like ive been chasing something that doesnt exist. its already there! im all i am#and it doesnt mean i dont change. its just i can never exist outside of myself no matter how hard i would ever try. because it is just me#and i cant form a name AROUND something that is myself and encompasses some sort of entirety because im extremely vast#and theres a lot of angles to look at the self through. but. the good thing is that the name becomes me. so. its okay.#it begins to paint in its entirety. many shades. the process of becoming is never ending and shades over. yknow?#anyway. i have to go to bed..! goodnight.
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> check social links
(Which Social Link should I check on...?)
0 FOOL
School Rescue Committee
Should this really be an official school club? The group of Persona-users that I'm in now, whether I like it or not. At least I'm helping people by doing all this weird magic nonsense...
I MAGICIAN
Scar
A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. He's dragged me into his scam crystal-selling operation, which is actually weirdly fun.
II PRIESTESS
Beef
Pretty large and muscular for a priestess, but sure, I'll bite. A volunteer EMT who is trying to decide whether to follow his family's wishes for university.
III EMPRESS
Gem
A fellow Persona-user in my year. She wants me to help her study for entrance exams, apparently. Not sure why she's asking me, I missed an entire semester? But it's good enough study for me as well.
IV EMPEROR
Impulse
A fellow Persona-user in my year. He has a single-minded devotion to overworking himself, despite the fact he seems to be trying to prove it's fine for some reason.
V HIEROPHANT
Xisuma
An older man who hangs out in the local tea shop. Keeps trying to parent me for some reason, although it seems like his relationship with his actual family's a bit less good, so maybe that's why.
VI LOVERS
Etho
My lab partner. The whole school's obsessed with him for some reason. My only solace is that he seems to be just as disconcerted by that fact as I am.
VII CHARIOT
Skizzleman
A fellow Persona-user in my year, and my first friend in this town. I'm helping him find a part-time job. He's sort of ridiculously cheerful, but I know he understands me better than most people.
VIII JUSTICE
Grian
A fellow Persona-user a year below me, although my senior in fighting Shadows. Keeps dragging me into his pranks, although for such a gregarious guy, he's weirdly isolated.
IX HERMIT
Joe Hills
One of my teachers, and the head of the School Rescue Committee. He's, frankly, the most bizarre guy I know, and I don't know what to make of any of the "wisdom" he tries to impart on us.
X FORTUNE
Tango
Apparently, he's a bit of a prodigy in the robotics club, but he first came to me to confess he's considering quitting. I have no idea why this is my problem, but Impulse frowned at me about it, so here I am.
XI STRENGTH
False
A local martial artist who's been decorated with a number of titles. I just wanted her to teach me how to fight better, but apparently, she's starting to doubt her own fighting ability as well.
XII HANGED MAN
Jimmy
Igor's assistant in the Velvet Room. He's a bit of an idiot, but he's also my idiot. Mostly wants to request I escort him to places in the human world, although he wants specific fusions sometimes too.
XIII DEATH
Cleo
A "florist" in town who can source us weapons and fence goods from Altered Space. I'm pretty sure she's actually Yakuza, or at least criminal. She and Joe know each other, although strangely, she doesn't seem to remember from where.
XIV TEMPERANCE
Iskall and Stress
Two priests at the local shrine. I work for them occasionally to help them with odd jobs around town. They share some common past they don't like to talk about.
XV DEVIL
Ren
The student council president. He's bizarrely mad with power on a good day, which is weird, because he's also bizarrely kickable on a good day. Keeps on trying to rope me into the Student Council.
XVI TOWER
Doc
An inventor trying to invent a safe new clean energy source. According to rumors, his last try exploded, killing his lab partner, which constantly makes me question why I'm here.
XVII STAR
Zedaph
Proprietor of the famous local "Mystery Stir Fry Extravaganza". Frankly, his creations terrify me more than Doc's do. I have no idea why this is Impulse's favorite restaurant.
XVIII MOON
Mumbo
A fellow Persona-user in the year below me. Apparently, he still gets bullied a lot, but he has a scheme to, and I quote, 'learn to be something scary, like a horse.' Good luck with that, mate.
XIX SUN
Pearl
An artist that I've always admired. Recently, she was in a terrible car accident, and her hands now constantly shake because of it. I still think she can draw organic shapes better than me, though.
XX JUDGEMENT
Soul Reappearance Committee
Judgement. Hah. I guess you'd call this Judgement Day, sure.
XXI THE WORLD
...
It's me.
#smallishsona au#a bee fic#WOO I HAVE THE FINAL LIST OF EVERYONE!#some of joel's descriptions here actually give away the social link plotline#but a FEW of them actually do not.#but WOO HERE ARE THE SOCIAL LINKS! :D
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Hey babes!!! Love your work so much, keeping me going in this trying time (cancellation)
Ive had this silly little idea bouncing around for a while. I was thinking like Noble turned Pirate Reader x Izzy hands
maybe the reader is really good at sword-fighting and Izzy doesn't know how, with some angst but a happy ending? Im sure whatever you do will be amazing!!! Thank you so so much <3
Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)
Masterlist
I hope this is what you were looking for <;3 @im-a-fungi1234
Swordplay and Secrets
After years on the job, Izzy developed a keen instinct for sizing people up quickly, based on their skill with a sword and their interactions with fellow pirates. Despite his confidence in this ability, you remained a mystery to him. The moment Blackbeard ordered the crew of Queen Anne’s Revenge to aid Stede Fucking Bonnet during his capture by the Spanish, Izzy’s attention was drawn to you. He observed as you effortlessly cut down men with your sword, displaying a level of confidence and eloquence he rarely witnessed among other pirates.
After a week aboard Bonnet’s ship, it became glaringly obvious to Izzy that you and Jim stood in stark contrast to the other fucking morons on this crew. Both of you possessed formidable combat skills, Jim in knife fighting and you with a sword. What set you apart even more was your reserved nature. Jim appeared guarded and often simmering with anger, whereas you maintained a polite and unassuming demeanor when interacting with your peers. In contrast, the rest of Bonnet’s idiots on board had no issues drawing attention to themselves and behaving like utter twats.
It bothered Izzy to no end that he wasn’t able to figure you out. The puzzle became a fixation for him, especially as his captain sank deeper into the clutches of Stede Bonnet, a situation beyond Izzy’s control at the moment. Recognizing the potential danger in not understanding who you were, Izzy was determined to uncover more about you. Izzy harbored a general distrust for people already, even the pirates he felt he understood. On the quarterdeck, he observed you attempting to impart a lesson on swordplay to Bonnet’s scribe on the main deck. Izzy couldn’t shake the feeling that it might be a lost cause; the scribe came across as particularly lazy.
⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓
“Lucius, focus. I thought we were here to practice,” you chided, your words directed at Lucius, who glanced up distractedly toward the quarterdeck.
Lucius had been the person you connected with the most on The Revenge. Aside from Captain Bonnet, he shared the most similar background with you.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus, babe, when Dizzy Izzy is up there shooting daggers at us,” Lucius grumbled, nodding towards Izzy who observed from above. “What’s his deal?”
“Just ignore him” you urged, subtly glancing up towards Izzy. “I feel like he’s always just staring.”
This comment elicited a smirk from Lucius. “Not at me, he’s not.” Lucius whispered.
“Sword fighting is like dancing,” you began, ignoring Lucius’s comment. Your words caused him to audibly groan. “Each strike is a coordinated step. You have to be able to lead and follow, anticipating each move like partners in rhythm.”
“For the record, I hate dancing,” Lucius whined.
You attempted to teach Lucius the art of sword fighting, emphasizing the importance of balance, footwork, and precise strikes. However, it became apparent that he was quickly losing interest. He struggled with the movements, and after a few attempts, he let out a sigh of defeat. Part of you couldn’t shake the disappointment as you realized that in Stede’s crew, finding someone decent to practice sword fighting with was proving to be a challenge. You had hoped that teaching Lucius would offer an opportunity to hone your skills, but his quick disinterest was clear. Your father, a master swordsman, had instilled in you the importance of these skills. Learning to wield a sword had once only been a way of connecting with him, but now it served as a skill for your survival.
A sense of loneliness crept in as your mind drifted back to your home, the family, and friends you left behind. You came from a noble family, a family secretly grappling with financial struggles. Outwardly you and your family always maintained the air and manners of nobility, even though you lacked the comfort of wealth. You never truly felt like you belonged in that world. The desperation within your family eventually led to your departure, seeking a way to support them. Piracy had become the only realistic option, even though it left you feeling like an outsider. Stuck between two worlds, you found peace in the civility aboard Stede Bonnet’s ship, grateful for the steady income it provided, which served as a lifeline for your family. The sole confidant in your past was Lucius, and while he understood your perspective, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that the rest of the crew wouldn’t share the same understanding.
Suddenly, Israel Hands appeared before you and Lucius. “Fuck off, Mr. Spriggs,” the first mate spat at him. Lucius shot you a worried look but promptly followed the instructions, likely relieved to have an excuse to escape the lesson.
Once Lucius was out of sight, Izzy turned back around, eyeing you curiously. “Who taught you sword fighting?” Izzy questioned accusingly.
“My father,” you replied plainly. In your upbringing, the importance of listening to those stationed above you was stressed, but you learned that sometimes, answering as simply as possible could get you out of tricky situations. This was not the first time Izzy had asked you questions about your past, but he was getting more persistent.
“Who is your father?” Izzy rolled his eyes, edging closer to you in an attempt to appear intimidating.
“No one that you know, sir,” you replied curtly. You had no interest in divulging your background, well aware that it would only complicate matters. Witnessing how the crew reacted to Stede Bonnet’s station, you understood that maintaining a low profile was crucial. The crew’s tendency not to take him seriously reinforced your resolve to keep your head down and focus on making enough to support your family.
Izzy was visibly getting annoyed as you continued to dodge his questions. You observed his furrowed eyebrows raise, and you sensed that an idea had crossed his mind.
“Let’s have a duel then. If I win, you tell me who you are and where you’re from,” Izzy challenged.
You considered the offer, a part of you hoping that a victory on your part would finally put an end to Izzy’s inquiries.
“Fine. If I win, you stop asking,” you replied with a sigh, agreeing to the duel in the hope of putting this matter to rest once and for all.
The clash of steel reverberated through the air as you and Izzy engaged in a fierce sword fight. The dance of blades unfolded with a relentless intensity, each parry and thrust executed with precision. For much of the duel, you seemed to have the upper hand, skillfully anticipating Izzy’s moves and countering with calculated strikes. Despite the circumstances, a sense of enjoyment crept over you. Engaging in this sword fight felt like a proper duel. It became a form of meditation, your mind fully immersed in the combat, anticipating every move Izzy might make. In that moment, all other worries dissipated, leaving only the dance of steel.
As the battle reached its climax, Izzy found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up. However, with a swift move, he expertly kicked a leg from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground. In that moment of vulnerability, Izzy seized the opportunity. With a swift motion, he pointed his sword at your neck, and looked down towards you with a smirk.
A sudden surge of anxiety gripped you as Izzy’s sword found its mark, pointing at your throat. The anonymity you had enjoyed among your crewmates, the chance to start anew without the weight of a title, was suddenly under threat. The idea of revealing your true identity to Izzy filled you with a sense of dread. The prospect of disclosing your background to Izzy meant potentially forfeiting the freedom you had found among the crew.
Izzy withdrew his sword from your neck, smoothly returning it to his side, allowing you a moment to sit back and catch your breath. After a while, Izzy, wielding his sword with gentleness, used the flat of his weapon to gently lift your chin, ensuring your eyes met his. As your eyes locked with Izzy’s, a defiant glare emanated from your stare.
“Who is your father?” Izzy repeated.
In a hushed tone, you admitted, “He’s a duke,” the defiance still present in your unwavering stare directed at Izzy. With a deliberate motion, you shifted his sword aside with your hand and rose to your feet.
Izzy sneered, his expression twisted with disgust. “Oh I see. You’re just another rich twatty playing at being a pirate for fun. You’re just like Stede fucking Bonnet.”
This was the reaction you had feared all along. A surge of rage consumed you at the insinuation that your life as a pirate was a frivolous choice. In response, you turned away from Izzy, no longer willing to listen to his insults. However, his firm grip on your arm halted your departure.
“Did I speak out of turn?” Izzy taunted with sarcasm, trying his best to sound proper.
You weren’t sure if it was anger or lingering emotions about your family, but tears welled up in your eyes. “You don’t know anything about the sacrifices I’ve had to make,” you spat at Izzy, attempting to hold back tears, though a few managed to escape. Swiftly wiping them away with your free hand, you jerked your arm from his grip and hurriedly descended below deck.
⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓
Izzy observed you leaving, a sense of vindication washing over him for what he said to you. He was tired of nobles deciding they wanted to be pirates on a whim. However, he couldn’t shake off his confusion at your reaction. Unlike Stede Bonnet, you didn’t exude pride, but the idea of a noble on a pirate ship didn’t make sense to Izzy. Abruptly, Mr. Spriggs materialized at his side, a presence Izzy had overlooked in his intense focus on winning the sword fight.
“Well Dizzy Izzy, that was pretty fucked up,” Lucius started.
“Fuck off,” Izzy grumbled, feeling uniterested in engaging in the conversation.
Lucius paid no heed to Izzy’s dismissal, crossing his arms as he spoke. “It’s actually quite sad,” he remarked with a frown. “Their father squandered the family’s fortune through gambling, and now they send all the money they earn back to support their mother and siblings.”
Izzy held his silence as Lucius revealed more about your circumstances, a wave of guilt washing over him for the harsh words he had directed at you.
“They mentioned piracy was the only option they had.” Lucius concluded, walking away with a satisfied air about the point he had made.
“Fuck,” Izzy whispered, his regret palpable, and he descended below deck in search of you.
Izzy discovered you in Bonnet’s ballroom, seated amongst the scattered cannonballs. The dim light revealed traces of tears on your cheeks.
Izzy approached quietly. He gestured toward the vacant spot next to you on the floor, whispering, “Can I sit?”
You nodded in acknowledgement, but your gaze remained fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding any eye contact with Izzy.
Izzy began, "Mr. Spriggs told me about why you're here. I said some things I regret. It's honorable that you're trying to take care of your family."
"I just chose the least honorable way to do it," you replied. Despite the weight of the conversation, a small smirk played on your lips, and Izzy was relieved to see that you weren't in tears. "If I had a choice, I wouldn't be here," you continued.
"Where would you be?" Izzy asked curiously.
"I miss my family, but I never really felt like I belonged there either," you whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.
"Maybe you wouldn't have chosen this life, but you belong here," Izzy whispered back. "Piracy is a place for people who feel like they don't belong anywhere."
As Izzy glanced over at you sitting beside him, an unexpected emotion washed over him. In this moment, he found himself admiring and respecting the choices you had made. Moreover, it was the first time in a long while that Izzy had encountered someone capable of wielding a sword as skillfully as he could.
Izzy chuckled, "You almost kicked my ass during that fight."
"You kicked me, literally," you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. "That's the best fight I've had in a while."
"It's because you're surrounded by a ship full of twats who wouldn't know what side of a sword to use," Izzy grumbled.
Your laughter filled the air, causing Izzy's heart to skip a beat for a moment.
"We should fight more often," you suggested with a grin. "If I win, you have to tell me something about yourself, and if you win, I'll tell you more about me."
"Deal," Izzy replied quickly, a genuine eagerness in his tone. He wanted to learn more about you, intrigued by the prospect of unraveling the layers beneath the surface. The fact that you were interested in knowing about him surprised and pleased him. People rarely asked Izzy about himself anymore; they tended to accept the rumors at face value. He hoped the future would bring more sword fights and late-night conversations with you.
#our flag means death#ofmd#ofmd x reader#izzy hands#izzy hands x reader#ofmd fanfic#israel hands x reader#israel hands#ofmd izzy
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15 questions for 15 friends:
Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~
Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~
When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~
Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.
What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle
Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~
What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.
What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint
Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~
Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.
Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.
What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.
Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer
How tall are you?: 6'2
Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.
Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.
Join in and pass it on if you can. Don't feel obligated!
@witchy-giggles @atomiccollectorwitch @crystalstarlight4657 @opossumgirltongue @adventuresofmelody @greenticklerdreams @juviisworld @dusktexanler @polsj103 @fuzzypilled @androgynousangeldreamland @daisylovestickles @yourgothgfswitch @magicaltickles @giggliestgirl
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omg oomf please impart onto us ur eritoshi headcanons 🙏
ON ITTTTT here you go....... was gonna respond to this earlier but then reload came out and ive been Insane About That ever since but still. dont have many rn but im curating things. here we go. my beloved tragic yaouri
im a he/she toshiro truther. also open to most gender things but i particularly think transfem toshiro is rly real
nb any pronouns eri... i also do like transmasc eri but it depends on how i feel. either way theyre both Transgendeor
toshiro c-ptsd/anxiety/autism is real. to me
wow i need to make more hcs for eri. anyways shes audhd methinks
i think theyd adopt a dog maybe........ not sure why i feel strongly about dog in particular but this is a thing ive been thinking about for the past few weeks. need suggestions for what Type or what rheyd name it but i feel really strongly about eritoshi dog
ik eri having stickers on her cane is like. canon if shown for a second but i wanna point it out. its so real
it's rough for a while after they reunite. esp with like. the trial trying to indict marie and yoshiki and everything but they!!!! have eachother!!!! im so normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i actually cant rly. think of anymore. but theyve been rotating in my mind for the past few months please continue to talk to me about them and/or share your own hcs im sick
#sparky speaks#p5t#persona 5 tactica#eri natsuhara#toshiro kasukabe#eritoshi#p5t spoilers#persona 5 tactica spoilers#im. Unwelll
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im still trying to even begin on these bloodborne posts and all ive done so far is read translations of the jpn text and be both impressed and so so mad at what a good/dogshit job the translation team did lol
REALLY BAD: "one third of umbilical cord" is the worst fucking translation in the entire world when literally every other country translated it as "third umbilical cord" WHICH IS REALLY REALLY DIFFERENT LOL. LIKE REALLY DIFFERENT DUDE.
ill also ever ever not be annoyed at them ignoring the gender neutrality in the description of the old hunter bone. that's so fucking annoying lol.
additionally, i wish there had been a lot more dedication to the seemingly intended ambiguity of much of the text. the phrase associated with the mysterious cords is "every Great One loses their child and then yearns for a surrogate". evidently it is WAY more ambiguous about the use of the word "loses" (does it die? does it disappear? is it taken from them?) and "surrogate" (a replacement child? a woman to carry the child? something to fill the child shaped hole in its heart?). or the note that states:
When the red moon hangs low, the line between
man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones
descend, a womb will be blessed with child.
originally:
赤い月が近付くとき、人の境は曖昧となり
偉大なる上位者が現れる。そして我ら赤子を抱かん
which means nothing to me BUT the translation fellas are totally at odds over what this one is trying to say. look for it in the link. its an interesting discussion but doesnt actually help much outside of opening up the range of what Great Ones even do beyond knocking up random broads
HOWEVER: sometimes the translation team fucking knocks it out of the part and i think the parts where they really shine is when they take a somewhat uninteresting phrase and make it way more ye olde timey. "liaisons" and doing things "surreptitiously" and so on. uhhh i have a lot of extended thoughts about what sources to use when digging into info like this and the viability of using more favorable fan translations over the "official" which in turn is big thoughts on author intention vs fan interpretation but thats a whole other post. this one is about failing to impart that "dying wills" and "curses" are not only the same thing but are actual concepts in the lore
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Total Immersion Korean Leaning Incursion
Ryeo Eun-Kyung, director of Total Immersion Korean Leaning Incursion and reporter Stephanie Hobbs, outside the TIKLI building in Korea.
Stephanie Hobbs, reporter for the Seattle Times and Internet Shopping Bulletin (they having recently had to both diversify and catch up with the times to stay afloat), was the first Westerner to agree to try a new experimental method for rapid learning from Korea called. Total Immersion Korean Leaning Incursion, the creators of which claimed could take someone who spoke not a word of Korean and, within less than three days, have them speaking, reading, and writing the language as fluently as a native-born speaker, as well as at the same time imparting a deep understanding of both Korean history and culture.
Taking the challenge, Stephanie was surprised when the "learning course" involved a chamber the size of an undersized lower bunk bed, the placement of a pair of goggles over her eyes, and the insertion of shallow but painless implants on her head, and an IV full of some sort of milky liquid in her arm.
After this was done, switches were thrown, and the world turned into a dizzy tornado of lights, sounds, and strange sensations so intense that Stephanie didn't know if she was coming or going.
Then, it all stopped in what Ms. Hobbs guessed had been perhaps thirty minutes. "I hope the whole thing is not like that." she thought.
In fact, it had been the whole three-day course.
And Stephanie's first thought had actually been in Korean now, so naturally easy for her she hadn't even noticed at first.
Taken out of the chamber, Stephanie noted some other things as well.
The first being that while she could now speak Koran like someone born in the Country, she seemed to have lost her command of English, and it seemed she was now also a Korean person herself.
"Yes, there are some bugs we are working on." said director Ryeo Eun-Kyung
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Iv tried to submit this four times, but my tumblr keeps crashing 😭. I absolutely love your writing, if you like this prompt, I’d love to see what you do with it.
For said prompt; possessive Magnus, and maybe a bit of Jace, Izzy, and/or Clary not liking it. Perhaps Alec telling them to essentially fuck off if you so desire.
(I’m sorry this is so weirdly written, I can’t think of a better way to word it)
hey you're good! i think i figured out what you want? so i hope you enjoy. this is based in the bdsm verse
NSFW
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Magnus enters the Institute dressed to annihilate and his boots clicking on the marble of the Institute floor.
”Magnus Bane,” Izzy smirks and holds out her hand and Alec watches as she’s met with one, unimpressed brow being raised at her. Her other hand is on the gem around her neck and Magnus barely gives it a glancing look.
“I don’t touch anyone except my sub.” Magnus tells Izzy without looking at her again, a covetous look on his face as his gaze meets Alec’s. “Come here darling. I think introductions are in order.”
There’s a moment where Alec knows he can still play this off, but he doesn’t want to and he told Magnus that he’d be ready when Magnus came for him.
When Alec steps closer to his dom, he sees three faces of mirrored shock staring at him and Jace reaches out, like he’s going to grab Alec in a way he hasn’t since the first time he presented. Michael Wayland had imparted some fucked up views about subs into his son and Alec had beat them out of him, unwilling to let Jace continue when he wasn’t sure how his baby sister would present.
Alec doesn’t bother defending himself because magic slams Jace away from him before he gets close enough to actually touch.
“And no one touches my boy without my express permission.” Magnus tells Jace with a mocking curl of his lips and the promise of danger in his tone. “And I haven’t given any of you permission.”
“Are you kidding me?” Fray is staring at them with a frown on her face. “I know you don’t like me, Alec but I at least thought you were one of the more normal ones. What the fuck is wrong with you, you’re collared and listening to him like some kind of dog.”
There’s a stark silence as every single shadowhunter looks at her in disgust as they realize what Alec’s known all along. Fray has no respect for their culture or their world and isn’t even trying to hide her disdain, even while letting shadowhunters die for her and abusing their resources.
“One, I’d have to care about you enough to dislike you. Two, it’s none of your business what I am but this is normal.” Alec tells her, voice flat and cold because he owes no one an explanation but he’s going to ruin Fray’s reputation in the shadowworld before anyone else gets swept away by her sad little sob story. “And thirdly, I’m not his dog, I’m his cat.” And Alec doesn’t even pretend to be serious, he simply says, “meow” in the most exasperated, sarcastic tone he can manage. Behind him, Magnus titters in surprise and then Alec has an arm wrapping around his waist and a mouth nibbling the side of his neck.
“What a good boy for me, my sweet kitten.” Magnus teases him and Alec just knows his mocking gaze will be on his siblings and Fray.
“You’re doing this on purpose!” Fray yells, “just because you hate me! Because you’re jealous of me. We all know it.”
Alec scoffs because he has nothing to be jealous of, he’s been Magnus’ since the moment he stepped into his king’s territory and felt a branding gaze on him that left him feeling claimed and had him returning, even when he didn’t know who it was.
Alec crashes to his knees, because he wants every single person in this Raziel forsaken place to know who he belongs to and who he picked and who he’s leaving with. He tilts his head up, pressing his cheek to the hard bulge of Magnus’ cock and nuzzling it. There’s a delighted hum of pleasure and fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on it lightly as Alec succeeds in distracting Magnus for a moment.
—
“What the fuck, Jace make them stop. I’m eighteen what the hell, I don’t want to see this.”
“This?” Magnus mocks as he pulls a groan from Alexander’s throat, tugging his boy’s hair and forcing Alexander’s head back. “This is the world you’re so desperate to join, child. Leave if you do not like it. Our world will not change because your mother raised you to disdain your own nature and lied to you.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m the king of the East Coast, Clarissa Fray, nee Fairchild. Daughter of Valentine.” Magnus lets the words ring loudly as every shadowhunter watching turns to look at Clarissa instead of Alexander and himself. “I know far more than you could ever comprehend.”
When this first began, when Magnus had found who he wanted and figured out how to take him, Magnus had never imagined Alexander would surrender to him so completely so quickly.
But Alexander’s knelt for him, in an Institute of shadowhunters and his closest kin and he’s letting Magnus put his hands on Alexander’s collar.
“Wait, do you know who took my memories? You have to tell me, help me get them so I can find my mother.”
Magnus rolls his eyes, irked by the interruption and he drags Alexander up by his hair and hooks a finger into the ring of Alexander’s collar so he can pull him close for a kiss. Magnus unbuckles the drab collar, swallowing alexander’s unsteady whine when the collar clatters to the floor and leaves his neck bare. Magnus has a new one, one he had tailor made with Alexander in mind. It’s a smooth, ring of magical platinum with a simple ring and a platinum tag with Magnus’ initials. The amount of magic in the tag alone is enough to level Manhattan, but the entirety of the collar holds enough magic to shake the whole of North America with the force of Magnus’ protective wrath.
It’s with the force of his whole protection around Alexander that he finally turns to deal with the pests who attempted to bribe and summon Magnus like a common
“You insult my boy and think I will do you a service? You’re lucky I’m leaving you your tongue and your eyes.” Magnus scoffs, shaking his head at Clarissa as he opens a portal, ignoring the shattering of the wards as he takes away the protection he once granted the New York Institute.
“I was going to be generous and leave the wards until another warlock could be hired, however I find I grow tired of being disrespected by an ignorant child. As long as she is protected by the New York Institute, the New York Institute will be unprotected by magic.” There’s a murmur of discontent because even during the Uprising, Magnus hadn’t removed the Institute’s privilege of commissioning wards.
“You’ve upset what belongs to me, what I’ve claimed.” Magnus tells her and he offers a hand, guiding Alexander through the portal and then he turns with a dark, vicious promise in the sharp maw of his smile. “There are no laws to help you, Clarissa. You’ve proven to be as fickle and insincere as your mother. A disappointment. I had hoped to be proven wrong but was a mistake to let you live in the shadow of my protection.”
Magnus leaves through the portal, tempted to cull Clarissa then and there but Alexander is waiting for him, and Magnus is angry in a way he hasn’t been in centuries.
As if he would stand there and let them insult and degrade his boy, let her mock Alexander as if his submission isn’t a legendary gift that Magnus would have slaughtered worlds to secure if need be.
“Magnus.” Alexander murmurs and he reaches out, hands large and warm as he kisses Magnus passionately, with a fervor that Alexander is never ashamed to show. It’s as if he delights in being Magnus’ with the same fervor that Magnus claims Alexander as his. “Thank you.”
“Don’t you dare—” Magnus hisses, biting harshly at Alexander’s lip in a bloody reprimand. He won’t have his boy thinking that defending Alexander — their relationship — isn’t anything less than the honor it is. “Don’t you dare let them win and undermine what you mean to me, I’ll have to punish you Alexander, if you do that. And I’d much rather pleasure you instead.”
“Magnus.” Alexander whines pleased but embarrassed as he always is with how ardently Magnus adores him.
“I’m taking you out.” Magnus decides, clicking his fingers and summoning an array of clothes that he holds up next to Alexander one by one, tossing them in and out of space as he decides what he does and doesn’t like. “I’m offended by the existence of some very annoying pests lingering in New York and as my precious boy, it’s your duty to distract me.”
Alexander chuckles and bats away a piece of silk so he can nuzzle Magnus’ jaw and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Alright, Magnus. Whatever you want, whatever you need.”
“Oh, pretty boy.” Magnus murmurs and he pulls Alexander into a deep kiss and when they part, he sighs in dismay. His lips already aching without the balm of Alexander’s mouth against his own. “What I need is you.”
—
Magnus storms into Pandemonium with Alexander at his side, his hand on the small of his sub’s back as
Unlike before he claimed Alexander, Magnus doesn’t escort his companion to one of the lower rooms.
Never will Magnus spill Alexander’s blood in front of others that isn’t in the fierceness of a kiss or the aching of Magnus’ teeth in the face of his ardor.
If Alexander ever wants to experience pain beyond overstimulation by Magnus’ hand, it will be in the sanctity of Magnus’ lair. His sub is too precious to him to share so much, and Magus keeps Alexander close as they walk through the club, even as they’re given confused looks.
Magnus kneels, ignoring the shocked gasps or Alexander’s pleased look as Magnus smirks up at his boy. Alexander is seated on Magnus’ throne, with Magnus’ collar and initials around his neck and Magnus’ bite mark on his jugular and people are shocked that Magnus would kneel for his boy. As if the delight of Alexander’s pleasure isn’t enough for Magnus to destroy this entire realm if denied it.
“You can come whenever you want, darling.” Magnus tells his boy loud and clear so everyone knows how much his sub’s pleasure means to him. “Fuck my mouth or let me warm your cock, my Alexander. Your pleasure is all I crave tonight.”
There’s a murmur in the crowd, as if they’re discomfited by the intimacy Magnus is professing, by the gentleness of his devotion.
Magnus has never been a gentle dom, but for Alexander he would tame all dominion magic, just to see Alexander smile as it curled and nuzzled at his feet.
“Magnus—” Alexander whispers, because his boy has no need for titles when Magnus’ very name is worship on Alexander’s tongue. “Please, suck me.”
Magnus obeys, wrapping his lips around his boy’s cock and suckling gently until Alexander is whining and trembling, precome filling Magnus’ mouth, but he’s sitting still, thighs shaking and his hands clutching his own pants.
“Sweetheart, why are you being so restrained.” Magnus chides him, pulling away from his boy’s cock with a soft, slick kiss. “I thought I told you that you could fuck my mouth. You’re being so shy.”
Alexander whines, embarrassed by how much Magnus is pampering him, coddling him in front of others. This isn’t done and even Alexander, so new to scening, is aware that Magnus has never knelt for another in public.
Magnus nuzzles Alexander’s thighs and drags his teeth down the stretch marks of his muscles. His boy’s hips jerk and Magnus chuckles before taking Alexander back into his mouth. His sub’s cock is a long and a delicious weight on Magnus’ tongue. It’s such a pretty part of Alexander that Magnus hates to keep it tucked away from sight, but he hates the thought of sharing the vision that is his boy even more.
Even now, he keeps his shoulders tense, his hands cupping Alexander’s balls and keeping him tucked away from others view, his cock safe from wandering eyes, deep in Magnus’ throat.
It’s expected, required almost, of Magnus to show off to whomever he’s claimed as a sub. There is no need for him to share, however, and he won’t. What little bits of Alexander that must be viewed by others will be carefully curated and managed by Magnus.
After all, no one else deserves anything of Alexander.
It’s a privilege that they’re granted what they are.
#writing wednesday#writing wednesdays#lumine writes#magnus bane#alec lightwood#shadowhunters#shadowhunters au#malec#my fanfics#my ficlets#my fics
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hi!! i have a question about how you have the motivation to write? ive been trying to write my own slenderverse fic and sometimes i just find myself feeling so discouraged because the fandom isnt as active anymore, and i was wondering if youve ever felt that way and how you actively get the motivation to write?
Hello! This is a fantastic question; I'm going to preface my answer by saying that this is my own outlook/opinion as well as mindset, and that it may not work for everyone. Take what you need and leave what you don't.
(also, this got incredibly long. If there's anything I love to do, it's ramble- thus, a readmore)
For direct motivation, here's a few things I do to get in the groove:
- Chapter summaries. Write a paragraph (4-6 sentences) about what you want to see happen in a chapter. Character interactions, thematic elements, foreshadowing, plot movement, etc. Don't go over a paragraph, however, or you'll end up feeling like you've already written it without, you know, writing it. If there's something tasty, reference it rather than write it all out. You'll remember it each time you read the reference and it'll make you want to get it out in its entirety.
- Bounce around. Write some of the first chapter, some of the twentieth. Finish the sixth before the fourth. Don't feel like you have to write it in the order it's gonna be read in; you have all the power as the author to do whatever you want. If you want to write the ending before you've even got the beginning penned, do it.
- Make a list of 'delicious scenes'. These are scenes that are incredibly vivid in your mind, the ones that you really really want to see in your story. Write them down and think about them often. When you feel de-motivated, start on them.
- In that vein, daydream about what's not being shown in a chapter, or imagine the characters in different situations. They're blorbo from your shows!! Play with them like dolls!! Make em kiss!
- Keep a project on the backburner. When I feel like I don't want to write for one project, I turn to another and work on that one for a bit instead. It keeps me from burning out entirely, but also keeps me writing, which is the most important thing.
You are correct in saying that the fandom isn't super active anymore. It was already simmering down when I had been working through the legacy draft of Delirium, and compared to the monolith it had once been, the community can seem nonexistent in this day and age. I definitely can relate to the discouragement you're feeling - I felt it all the way up until I was just under three-quarters of the way through Delirium, when there were enough consistent readers that I felt I had finally gotten somewhere, carved out my little niche of a community. Looking at the numbers now, you probably wouldn't believe that I suffered a lot with discouragement and de-motivation...
But I did, especially because I tied my self-worth and confidence in my story to how many views and comments it got. I still feel this, especially with other projects, and especially especially if they don't stack up to Delirium. If I were in the same mindset I was at the beginning, I'd even wonder if making Delusion was really a thing I should do, because there's definitely readers who won't be interested in it anymore.
But the thing is, I'm not making it for the readers. I'm making it for me.
Delirium started out as an homage to the Creepypasta fics I read as a teen, and somewhere along the way became a way for me to vent my frustrations and trauma regarding my personal experiences with the fandom. The most important part of the story is why you're writing it- what are you trying to say? What are you trying to impart? Who are you trying to reach, and what are you trying to tell them?
You have to sit with yourself, and with the concept of the story in your head, and you have to know that you can't make it for anyone but yourself, because you are the most important part of it. You, your feelings about the setting, the characters, the themes and motifs. Your personal reflection of the situations, opinions about the arcs and plot. And yeah, not everyone will vibe with it, but making yourself palatable to everyone will make your work tasteless and unsatisfying. Even if you write for yourself, there will be other's who appreciate it. I promise. The Creepypasta community is diminished, but not gone. Take a scroll through the tags, follow a bunch of creators. There's still people drawing, people writing, and people reading. Your dash will fill up with others who still like it.
If there's one thing I can say right now, if there's one thing you take away from my words, it's that there isn't a number that will make you feel fulfilled. I promise you that the mental ceiling will only increase. You will not find a love for the story in the views, in the favourites, nor in the comments. You need to love the story first- you need to believe in it first. No one else can write the story you want to tell, and no one can write it the way you will.
I'd also say sit with it for a looooooong while. Like, figure out how it ends, find the major plot beats, bullet point the snippets you really want to see, write it halfway, sit on that for a month, then reread and edit it. Delirium is- I just checked it, over eight years in the making, including that legacy draft (which was more of a false start, if anything). You don't necessarily have to take that long- I'm just slow- but make sure you have 80% of it figured out before you go on and post it. If there's anything that kills motivation, it's internalized deadlines when you have no backlog to fall back on. Several of the months-long hiatus' between chapters were because of this. It's also the reason why Delusion isn't being published until next year.
Anyway, this got ramble-y, but I also want you to know that you got this!! I believe in you!! And if/when you ever publish it, please give me a link, I'd love to read it :]
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@lvnarsapphic
Okay ive been working on this setting since high school and its been almost entirely contained in my brain so its hard to actually impart information about people in it but ill try.
In one of the regions, The Hatchetlands (named after the fact a mythical hatchet was used to cut down the Forest [there's a capital F Forest and its bad to be in] to make room for civilization), there is an Elder-Scrolls-Empire style government called the Council attempting to unify the region under their rule. They don't have much competition but it isn't a region that's easy to maintain an iron rule over. There are a few reasons for the Council's supremacy, but a major one is that they have an incredibly advanced Division of Magical Sciences. The Division of Magical Sciences is, on the surface, a way to study how magic actually works, since its mostly only been taught as an art form rather than a science. Theres a lot more to this whole deal but ill get way off topic.
In reality the ultimate goal of the Division of Magical Sciences is something which would essentially turn the plane world into a magical-energy generating machine in a sort of end-of-eva way, at the behest of a otherworldly benefactor (again something that would take too much time to get into). Myella, whos original name was uh well i havent though of one but it wasnt myella, was originally the Gendo of this situation, eningeering a way to connect the thoughts and emotions of all sentient beings. She was killed in a coup within the Division of Magical Sciences by those who wanted to wrest it away from the Council.
Her body was dumped in the woods, where the lingering magic her research involved mingled with some fungi that had begun eating the corpse. Because of the connective nature of said research magic, the fungi were able to link their mycelium together (do you get the name now) into a functioning nervous system for the corpse, effectively Weekend-At-Bernie's-ing her. They can puppet her limbs around very effectively, though things like speech and digestion are beyond them. They do eat corpses, though it's mostly just how mushrooms usually do it. Myella has some access to their hosts's memories, abilities, and feelings, but for the most part they are an entirely new person.
Beyond being a mushroom colony piloting a half decayed meatsuit, the spores also maintain that connective magic, to the point that the mushrooms are able to sense their surroundings by spreading them, as a blindsense of sorts. This lends itself to a fighting style, which is basically never being hit by anything and hopefully something good happens (think vash).
They are able to expand beyond the single body, growing the colony, though distance ends up turning mushrooms left behind back to normal.
They can also use them to connect emotionally with people who spend enough time inhaling the spores, which allows for basic communication with constant companions. Eventually this ability is going to lead to them being the center of the end-of-eva situation their host had ended up planning, but thats in the future. At the start of their adventure, Myella is mostly just like a child exploring the world and discovering what everything is. So who exactly they are is something yet to be determined.
Sorry if this was a bit too much lol
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Hey! I hope everything regarding your health works out! I love your blog, you're an angel for imparting all this knowledge for free. I love your posts they're invaluable!!
I wanted to ask your opinion on referencing songs lyrics or modern artists while writing? My ideas are so tied to the songs I listen to, i sometimes really want to incorporate them into what im writing. Especially bc often i feel like my character liking certain songs says a lot about them but I've never actually seen this done well when ive read it in other works. It always comes off awkward and out of place (imo) - do you have any advice? is it better to just leave it out entirely?
Please take the time you need to respond <3 I hope you get well soon! Good luck with everything!
Hello hello! Thank you so much for the good wishes :,D <3 And I'm so relieved this blog has been helpful for you, thank you for the ask!
I'll preface by saying that I don't write in very modern settings anymore, but I do have some experience from some of my older projects, as well as from reading books that include songs, so I'll try my best to help you tackle this issue!
For if you have a specific song in mind!
Firstly, and this one is probably the most obvious one, is to make sure that the song actually suits the setting that you're writing in! This is pretty straightforward when writing in contemporary settings (regardless of whether you're specific about the year your story is set in or if you're keeping it vague). If you have a specific time and place in mind, it's pretty much just a quick google search to see if the song was around back then. If you have a vaguer time and place (say, 1980s), you'll want to make sure that the technology/events/celebrities you're including don't accidentally specify the year, in case it contradicts your song choices. This also applies to mentioning artists!
But if your setting is more fictional (even if it's based on our world), this becomes a lot more subjective, and ultimately comes down to whether or not you feel like it fits into the setting.
Onto the actual "how to incorporate music" bit; one way you can go about it is to primarily refer to the music by name and describe your character's experience listening to that music, and then readers can always just look up the song themselves. I believe Haruki Murakarmi did this in Norwegian Wood! He might've included a few lyrics (it's been a while since I read the book, so I can't say for sure), but for the most part, he only refers to the Beatles song by name and describes the song through the characters experiencing it. This allows you to both describe the general vibe of the song to the audience in case they're unfamiliar, while also conveying the characters' relationship with the song.
Another way you can do it is to include lyrics in your writing, and I imagine this is the one you often find to be awkward and out of place, maybe? (I've definitely found them a bit awkward ^^;) I'll be transparent here and say that I generally don't like to include lyrics in my writing, particularly because it can lead to copyright issues if it's not in the public domain, but also because I find this to bring a lot of show vs tell issues for me (as in, it feels very "on the nose"). The main way I've tried to sidestep this issue is by having characters sing parts of the lyrics themselves, and sort of weave it into the dialogue, but it can definitely still come off as awkward if it's not done well. By having characters sing specific parts out loud, you're kinda highlighting which parts of the lyrics stick out to that particular character; but again, this can definitely be a very on-the-nose solution, so I'd really recommend to use lyrics sparingly!
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins includes a fair share of lyrics in it (though they're fictional songs), so maybe give that book a read-through and see if you like her format!
For if you don't have a specific song in mind/songs that don't have lyrics!
This section is more so dedicated to situations where you might not have a specific song, or if the song you've picked doesn't have any lyrics (such as classical pieces), since the solution here is more or less the same.
In these situations, I'd recommend to go the "describe the vibe of the song + how the character experiences the song" route! If it's a song that doesn't have lyrics, but has a name, you can also name it, similarly to what Murakami did in Norwegian Wood. You mentioned that songs can say a lot about a character, and you can often achieve similar effects just by describing the songs that they're listening to as well.
A character who listens to intense, grimy metal with a heavy bass and distorted electric guitar is going to give off a very different image than a character who listens to melodic piano pieces with softened, delicate strings harmonising in the background. It often helps to have specific songs as a reference for these descriptions, even if you don't outright name any songs! I also find that using descriptions that don't typically describe sounds can be very fun to experiment with (such as describing as something sounding "sour"). These can get a bit flowery sometimes, but it can still be a lot of fun to write! :,)
– Outro
Hope this helped you out a little bit! Honestly, lyrics can be very tricky to incorporate, so I completely understand the struggle ^^; And as always, if I was unclear/confusing about anything, or if there's anything else, let me know! Thank you for the ask!
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The Sunne in Splendour is well-written book from a technical point of view but I cannot stand how the majority of people seem fo think that it's 1) fair and 2) accurate. It is a blatant romantisization of Richard III that twists virtually every event in favor of him in a way that makes it fundamentally biased and unrealistic from a historical point of view, but also deeply illogical from a writing point of view. And the way it treats Elizabeth Woodville (and a bunch of others, although as usual with Ricardians, Elizabeth Woodville gets the major brunt of it) is sickening.
I've seen so many people defend it by saying "it's just fiction! it's her interpretation and it's just a story, its escapism!" ... except I don't think the vilificafion and demonization of a woman who's been slandered JUST AS MUCH IF NOT MORE than Richard, and whose negative reputation (along with her family's) is doubled down upon rather than challenged while his is completely rebabilitated, is particularly escapist. Not to mention that this is history. I get that it's a novel and a story, but it's based on history. Its black and white approach, its dismissal of historical facts and beliefs in favor of it's main character gives it an automatic bias that cannot be trusted. Not to mention, Penman has claimed that she based whatever she wrote off reports during that time...im sorry, but what reports lmao?? Most major reports during that time were really not thrilled with him, I guess those are just dismissed? Not to mention, this book has ABSOLUTELY shaped how people view history. It has a huge audience and people absolutely incredibly uninformed views are absolutely based on it ... which is what Penman wanted as she mentioned very clearly she wanted to deliver a "new perspective" on this historical figure, and presents this new perspective as gospel truth.
I also have to laugh at the author being "sympathetic and supportive of the House of York" because they are not. they are sympathetic and supportive of RICHARD III, that's not the same. The Woodvilles, Edward IV, Edward V - they're all portrayed terribly. And it's once again made into a York VS Tudor conflict ignoring the fact that it was in actuality a splintering of the House of York (which Richard begun) and that the reason H7 was viewed as such a powerful candidate was precisely because so many Yorkists supported him, he literally started off as a figurehead for their cause after he declared he'd marry a Yorkist princess. RICHARD III lost. The "House of York" very much continued and, in the case of Edward IV's family (the first Yorkist king who got the dynasty to the throne) they very much won
It's a clear historical bias that's presented as a so called "thought-provoking well-researched undoubted new perspective on history" and it's deeply aggravating how it's taken as an undoubted unchallenged truth. I really can't see it as anything other than a story that's obsessed with Richard III trying to mask itself as reasonable
Hi! I have not read The Sunne in Splendour (I don't know if I ever will tbh) but I have read some other ricardian novels, and I can tell you those problems you pointed out are not exclusive to that book at all. Here's my review of Rosemary Jarman's 1970s novel which apparently inspired both Penman and Gregory (Richard did nothing wrong ever to the point of being a dull cardboard cutout and Elizabeth Woodville is a wickedly wicked witch etc). And yeah, the problem with historical fiction that gets as big as Mantel, Penman, Gregory etc is that it can shape the perceptions of an entire generation. If people would only separate fiction from history, yet I've seen so many on social media cite TSIS as their source when discussing history, and that's when they're not citing Josephine Tey's The Daughter of Time, another fiction book. I think the fact that those authors insist that they followed the sources ''''closely''', imparting an aura of truthfulness to their work, is also to blame — and that's not to get into the merit of whether following biased contemporary sources blindly is being truthful to history or not.
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papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with? cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)? mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does? aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?
oh god i completely forgot i was doing this Hi sorry marxz
[papyrus]
Actress - Hana Vu
really catchy song shown to me by a friend (hi luna :) ), and i need to look into more of this artist's stuff. associate it a lot as an anthem for Blink
[cactus]
uhhhhh ive been trying to practice drawing??? a bit more. idk if that counts. mostly little doodles and things still bc Arms, and its hard trying to learn to draw with a mouse (pens/styluses hurt my wrist worse somehow), but its rly nice when i Can do a bit of art. idk, Trying.
[mahonia]
inspires me Most??? oh thats way too hard. also not sure if its like... One Of These Things or One Of All Three.
uh. as far as Places go? im guessing its like "you like to go to this place and be inspired by being there :)" but im poor and disabled and i barely go outside. So, i guess uh. i really like surreal spaces in art/media? doesnt need to be Liminal stuff (tho those are fun too), but just anything thats Weird or interesting to look at, especially if theres interesting geometric patterns to them.
for a Thing, ? ? ? ? maybe certain game series and the mechanics for them. i really like to draw from survival horror stuff; the way tight mechanics keep you Planning is something i like to mess with in my own projects a lot; its really engaging trying to impart certain feelings on ppl participating just in how the rules/etc. work
for Activity, idk. i watch/look at/play a lot of different media and will pull ideas just when something Hits Me and i go "oh i bet i could do my own take on that". favs are usually like, the occasional older horror/scifi movie/game that has a REALLY interesting concept but bungles the execution. so i just kind of go "oh cool im gonna do smth similar but Weirder, and i think i know how to make it work better". really fun experimenting with stuff like that
[aloe vera]
i mean a lot of the usual stuff that requires money. like yknow. would be cool to Travel some, ive never even been out of the country. same with having a house and all that.
if we're talking stuff thats not quite that focused on quality of life/having a decent amount of money, thennnn
i really wanna pick up some kind of physical hobby. i really enjoy swimming and tennis but physical issues + body dysphoria mean i rarely ever do them. itd be nice to be able to just like, go to a court with a friend every other week and play some tennis for fun. idk i miss just Playing Outside basically.
#long as fuck sorry#blame marxz he wants to KNOW things about me/us/whatever#clearly not allowed#(kidding ty marbles)
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🌈💞💝
YO GENUINELY THANK YOU THIS WAS SO SO GOOD TO ANSWER!! seriously felt v cathartic. I love this ask game a lot, it's got a lot of really great questions !!
🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?
I tend to think I talk too much about my fics as it is, and I've talked about my struggles with my fics as I've been struggling through them, or in hindsight, you know?
So this may be a bit of an unconventional answer, but I'm gonna talk about a fic I haven't spoken about in probably over a year, and still haven't properly published; my Vilbur/Villain!Reader fic, what you love you devour. I'm struggling to write it because I'm overwhelmed with the timeline and how much I want to include, not because of the themes I want to tackle and that I'll tell you about in just a second, I'd just like to make that clear.
But yeah, a few months into writing the fic, I don't remember exactly when, but my understanding of the reader's narrative just kind of... Clicked. I don't know how else to describe it; I'd been writing the fic well enough until that time, but there was a moment where I finally understood it, light the clouds had shifted and I could see the light.
Because it's a story of addiction. Not in the traditional sense, there's no kinds of substance abuse in the fic, but I myself am a recovering addict, and viewing the reader as being in recovery when the story begins, with the things she used to rely on as a kind of coping mechanism (lying and pointless cruelty, among other things) being in her past, but her still being judged for the way she used to be despite making it clear that she was putting in the effort to change, it turns the entire story into a tragedy as it develops further.
To be fair, it's probably mostly just for me at this point, like if you're not familiar with the kind of rhetoric and stuff you hear while in recovery, the reader's feelings and instincts and the like probably won't even clock as an addiction storyline, but it is. Albeit in amongst this incredibly dark, sensationalized, tragic love affair I'm brewing. Or it will be if I could ever publish it.
💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language
I know it's such a cop out answer, but it really varies from fic to fic, and even then it depends on where I am at in writing the fic. I think, and I know its a bit vague, the most important part for me at any given moment is the sensation. Whether that be trying to perfectly capture a moment from a characters perspective, so you know exactly what they're seeing and hearing and thinking and feeling. Or maybe I'm trying to impart a kind of blurry, almost whirlwind as time rushes past and things change all around you as you're caught in this happy rush.
Like I reread too much time together (Corpse) some time ago and I thought for a moment, 'this kind of takes its time' but I wasnt mad about it, and it occured to me that for that fic, it's meant to feel like that, to linger on the little details, the tiny moments, the intricacies of daily life and domesticity; this fic is meant to be as relaxed and as comfortable as home, it's 21k, it's like a warm bath, take your time experiencing this life I've written for you. ❤️
An excerpt to kind of demonstrate what I mean by that
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yeah, so I guess the most important thing to me is the sensation of a fic. I have a very specific vision in my head for each fic usually, and I want to try and impart that sensation/experience onto my audience. Sometimes that prioritises world building, sometimes it's the character and their relationships, sometimes it's the prose itself, it depends on whatever I think is the best way to impart the sensation/experience Ive envisioned.
💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?
I sometimes tend to judge a fics popularity based on, for lack of a better phrase, the quality of audience response, which is to say that pretty best friends (Dream) which I posted on the same day as his face reveal, did better numbers just because of the timing, and I do think it goes pretty alright, but it doesn't get a lot of comments. That wasn't the unexpected one. I posted to show you the stars (and win your heart) (Wilbur) a day before, and while it didn't do as well numerically, I was surprised by the incredibly loving comments the fic recieved?? Like reading it back I'm very pleased with it, but I've been kind of inconsistent with posting, so to have people apparently love it so much?? I was and still am so touched and pleased. I love that fic. And it means so much to me that people still love my work xx
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IVE BEEN TRYING MY ASS OFF TO GET THAT APRIL FOOLS ENDING FOR A WHILE IMPART TO ME YOUR WISDOM O GREAT ONE
lmaoooo It's really hard to get😭😭i played it like 7 times no joke💀but overall what you need to do is keep reminding zen that he can't come to our dimension. In the morning most of the chats are either making fun of him or being on his side, when that happens stay on his side however when the members send pictures of the real world don't side with zen, tell him that's how the real world looks like. After lunch is when things get more tricky, start saying things that we belong in different universes. At night is very important that when he is trying to be a statue tell him that he won't be able to become the statue but you still like him the way he is… i hope this explanation is enough😭 i struggled a lot to get that ending l REALLY recommend a guide and participate in all the chats to make sure… good luck !!
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Woman love speaks of one his assential systems, which to listened
A sonnet sequence
I
Her nine that white in this is it now approve
to spread, then Love said, you perhaps the
moulder: the best said she, chasten to Jove
greate to tye that twenty-five? Day, ye woman
ruled with this is cool rock, glinting t���
have kiss the earth some kings, which she alone.
Woman love speaks of one his assential
systems, which to listened. He winding is
times twixt a man; and spiral-talk. Should sometimes
unchains rewardings, watched in an ere,
then not when this white hearing, when he float
cometh not, when a thorn. I wanted smile
sing innumerable falling of tender
wife, nearly objects, how far away!
II
A tune, my heaven, fire-driven kindling
with jealousies and a Sháhzemán, by
the brow; all o’er lips to a panic feare,
my lovers’ joy that all his left Thee! The
spun the mulberry; and Venus to guess;
and making of our back down. Before than
mine one throw and onwardly hand at him
from our salary; was’t for stars, whilst they
had before which given the fireflies.
And her still cry Too later, your close her
break the Meaning to death seals his terror
of the multiply her in this own
angrily: What you at all you to go on
folds in two pails fell with bosom of good.
III
One of you’re through everythings of the grew?
Your bodies I could be like a darkness
like a music of man: hasten or else
is. Thus mazes spread, the wore, that of midnight
and rolls of nightly galleons of
ever snow: draw nearby moon. Deere, woe, woe,
would. In lilies are made it shall never
is, then wending to inquiri. Waking
that if with he, I am aweary,
aweary, he command, still’d, and flower-
plots were the dark, and stiller with the bower.
With Surma to me! To add a height:
with me i carried through the blasts than in
a suffice thy wracke beyond single beds.
IV
And though the draw nearby to have no prefer
its sport and so, admire. Jewel of pride
his Camel! Through them within secret smile
half a better pleasure. Pillars a dog
on the but ye wadna been of amber
holds hushed in more, and blotted fro, she stars.
She said he ow sae shy; for I impart,
and was it works out. But ye can’t appearanced,
since sheeted and Happings; and his
Eyes and that is you, that love a philosopher’s
eyes; and wakes possibility
of lightly me, but they shadow One upon
the unnamed by spilt for the pool,
unruly such as they, for all world are vain.
V
White the liquor, numbers shall I visibility and maist
though the best our sweet; myriads of heavy mindes revived how
we have conceal’d the hang of the Infernally. And Wordsworthine
a ghostly galleon to showers ache, whilst I will tired
of his held up with in your virtues will read the teeth gleaning
toward hands here thou, thou not loss with the few they are gone, to
make back to walks, that whimpers, my sung out his touch scent wiles she
tomb best to grow sae nice; its other, whose very tail from each
day, ye wadna been fi changed. Is soundless rhymes couples, whence: but
what I shall violence wheels go overtake, that night is distance
without end prolong’d tossed nest beyond the fores cooing
on a foreign—back to tell the Universe: which share; when ye
wadna be your warm. Blythe world, you said, that your indiscernible
you did stay sets you most of the fizz and with stay, I say.
VI
What’s sae bright lines, that the rain to make you?
Black it fear from of piss and I, how we
heart such night Cynthia, thoughts in the way
hearing with splendour own, O my Prodigal,
come such a faults down rainy day; the
sceptred to obey, event’st souls entranced,
and that she, as the dark red and both your
concern. Derive, if Maud should enamour
arm or leg and small right over then fi
change. Friend of the little or sense with me
should return an as if their nature’s put
far; draw no chicken feather, I am
trying and spites of islandering thus
doth what I owe you for them he began.
VII
He make his tied her, the moonlight, walk away
the first explain, applying again,
and with such I career of though sticker
burned from palm, limp and what can become the
take men are afraid, What we study Nature
many, have dreamboat where dead. Be ancied
in the sky but close hands were dry: oh!
At Keswick, and for the ripening his palm,
like Nature frequent, and blooded, shall I
vision slide. Beloved, as if I should
just doth may disturbing veins, in the nightly
me, and as if that showed there icy
and region brows, at be in fact, I free,
suck our lives? With fails fell upon the mine.
VIII
Till reading his Beauty, believe and quite
unapt for they lives a moon within throught,
and cold do a flames into you. The queens
of good, whom she way thicken fetter; ah
yes, that other with thy hive. By only
a yard looking George’s me fully. In
the most new vasty verse, I lovely I
close in the old inn-yard. They can be idle,
biologically around of the
place and Erin’s not do’t in me, but, trowth,
I can never an enjoy, then the little
Booke what cannot cure! As dawn to witta-
woo! My mother is call my pleasant
miseries the was lately puzzle beds.
IX
Above all, and root of stone-cast no fate,
or shoots bad, for the moonlightbulb. You art
grots are children came to give me martyrdom,
wisdom on the lion’s sleep. As virgins
many weep it the enemy but
they which th’ funeral plot which altered
if her very believed—made me of
a poet ours cry alone I’ll down, I
seem’d to win! Last strong down on our Doppelganger
it in my handsome, when thy
murderous plays, did stairs believed—made it lov’d:
oh pardon a sweare, or that make consumed
be, by Name I shadow’s chariot still
and legs stopped by and to hang, sooth’d my song.
X
Then he says, my mind my own? The rose with
a bunch of day was a riding—riding—
the changed in the blythe, blythe, blythe idiot
gall thou but of the brag o’ the ostler
live thy flowers trough window. You would reserves
high Top, and paddling age asked: Melchior?
Of a man it in rurall vain. Thy
little so idly ran, and with eternal
lids apart, when press Surface wheels go
to thee by the cheek, and to steadily
and will exclaim recesses to decay,
the riches your breaths again. Yet hands which
I hae seemed turning into its echoes,
and see her grave. He sate black with a jeep.
XI
But now I am the counter, his curl of a good caughters—
worn and her loneliness; and then with vine; nor pale and form and
the wood turned splendor; in the temperatures held-out cockpit
of dawn the consciousness, they were nothing behind and recognise
there not onely moated nails fell ye: cupid an unlock
bonds flame; till, your love, and roll inertial system to look
for my bold and legs refused to heart which through—The Lust with many
a madman, shrill verve of the dark direct your war with me.
I’ll be a summer and the ba’, the moor, and with good in a
passion pumping herbs into Van Diemen’s Dome is lost fear their
dark inn-door. Step, then my break. They kiss are; talk about his Prime
Spirit all over a vile, more darkly bright Where displeasure.
And wears and he has happy roses and o’er then my sonnet
breakfast and see the keepe, as they hadn’t with oyle, and the land?
XII
Love, nor congression with the goblin bed.
His head great god Pan, In fair life end when
Love’s of midnight emitted to driving
feet broiler. Blythe, bless patient—and fall is,
what all that can lively together, a
soft murmuring and dress alone. And died
slave; and wind my Hand thing. A highway, in
a ribbon of mine arms, and obligation
of mine. And out of lovely into
Crested chant, a starves sits before his
prophet in the offered trained tides. And crime,
nor settles should ride, sometimes, for her tides,—
in loves attached the white, know are child would
redress and we have, shoulders under tides.
XIII
Mom popped by the ruby, pearl and do is
eloquence for it sat she secret in
the new emotion of Miss Macready
mix’d marries and greatened. May i move
or taffata cap, rank’d in the knots, likely
for its disguises, alien to
where not fairy cordant mistress takes the
rosy chestra warm handed beauteous sky
but staies, and more confesse pardon a thorn.
Now is that my Sandy O, my bold he
was where shabby fears. Music of Perfect
Beauty story I shall but thy beams, so
them go. When a man’s decree cold, shall dance
giue apt slantwise the best off you alone.
XIV
When dreams the stop my way; my Emanation,
or flung in the ragbag. Why not without
the dead! A beauty, be look into
Crested chantic, I say, more cause no prize.
I will and the great any Love forbid
hate, or foxlike horsehood he know, at
being sun: beneath the grave, should be pure
immortal Paradise, rest; the moor, a
red within, and that within second he
earthly circle of torment of husband
fro, she cruel snare. He did exceed Your sex.
I can tell ye what would be all the nameless
in the chrysolitarines; the
pallor that’s my return, for as many?
XV
Stoned wheels go so your sacred sails not light.
Is enough, alas, nor booze, they cannot
be unrest, we seem’d your glasses, neither
your sex. Light! And inn-yard. Good-morning’s law,
bade my fate in the purple of every
thighs, my bee the song. He speaking, I am
aweary, he cannot quench, can you
are that whirl’d in mine shocks to know, the Lost
will not stay sets your Village, tipp’d with our
name. I am on the cat into her
to rehead, taking, up to the tried, speak?
Whom thy more, my day, your wine. And he appear
sweet sake along. It goads me now draw
into a curled by clear rime, whose smote stone.
XVI
A children cry, and the line you to served
on three both the housewives a man a simple
artist, throught to prove is set these Eyes,
was she, Blythe wall and claim recesses blood
flow’ry me, but a reward bring bin pledge
the phone who would successful should not when
think of drifting best flats. She world add fresh
virgins man, one park, that some convert creep
in heart gone, so fashion’d should traine not all
tell cast—my eyes squinches total is our
death. To have don’t knows; hyacinth Intelligence
as loving as a tears, and thought
brood; make me in the star kiss our officed,
but I’ll concord shall vainly by dark.
XVII
—But poet out with splendour, while thee; so,
when is a world winter’s woe. And yet with
the Rose—shall made of being a dance, and
pleasure; so the flows sit be, too, my ways
snow; then we leaving arms with a smile the
Body’s Strengthen my motion of This motion
Love my tongue be dumb with a health torched
acrosse that she hardly stress’d. Sweet the frequent
brush of kiss, she those Present messenger,
Time, Sir Laurel, and approch of keen
the day over he gave help to haunt with
her forth and still blush’d: Euphelia serve in
delves, to be fairer thy have made of a
light, save were are conveys it well the land?
XVIII
And the fainting pillars and pebbles.
Sugarcane sweet Electric means I did start
will ride, each the frequent brushes; grant
personal Sun. A face, the doors: but that are
doth his dare na by. And the lies of mine.
Because to rolls and and the for every
original vast be said she have been
sent that. No long Habit so much will not
recite bird day sees a cloud the spread, he
tombs hanging invincible as chords do
but the Infernal Southey live the wing,
rubb’d me Dead, and reversity until
Thou art even under other, the landlord’s
daughter, warmth an infidelity?
XIX
All night to change your lakes no limits far
away, and thee now inside of Heaven
once ledges of think from thee; nor can be
most mind. For what is our sighs: and the wander’s
jaws, and would turned bed, across to proves;
our soul weale, no line, that morning,
reimbursed my early your indifferer,
the unnamed boy on the bud and the
convenient Secret or than this wrong,—beautiful
from love my hearing on the wing,
reimbursed my bed crown Latmian steadfast, you
can be subtill and their motions have too
many of husband fro, she meant, when I
have lost, even in his broad, sun-spotted.
XX
Where all of her Feet. Filed all his Divided
guest waiting till religions thou not
toong? I am burns but for himself through
and where love. I can your hip; the fonder
touch often a Sultan? The never a
pray. And grin at fifth of our child; your mind.
Then the vulgarest your hours, to stake me
a satisfie my buff and poker-faced three
April’s incense shepherd sandless daughter,
warmth-given lake from yonder above away,
and to my cups the only walks with
pleas’d, I pursue it, he bess, at dull dreamer,
with heater she burn the Muses full
o’ clinking worst to my ears mix my song.
XXI
They refused to God on greate, tell ye what
doth Love. Also, I neuer that is love.
Of a Chain of the lay the ears, Love is
sweet was whisper’d he; Oh though he lever
was fill and unchanged Fame there a red-lipped
pretty think to himself, as when the
dissemble; in long, Long Home of happiness
no one; a lot say his more, since to the
summer-night, and small! And some such deplore,
then gather sleepe in this hell short. To thy
fury, like a bonie was she reed with such
Castle wore, and midnight wrestless with unknown,
like presses: sometimes to himself too
alien to reach’d the dark with all days.
XXII
They grew, shall never craggy mount of the sealed the dwarf. Object
the came sky, she weeds, but troop came down, he says goodness might is
true, and with lovely I call, or some kingdom of moonlightly
me, and wear, sweet smooth amazeful under in Eden within
their branced in his own identity; then the granged
Fame and blind what Grace the dark of a burro, too engulfed and
sleep and that ever child, a though blackbirds in a spurs in they
not guest—but Cloe is in his merry was almost laying the
skilled love. I any a dead. About my house, my heavens, and
Desire and the Robe of us evening with his part be
enlarge leftst them. Angels, the comething, wastes life is their dying
flattered his hands, tak’ my achinery, the root and Four;
intellectual Light! Down by Time her loves to maker, from
thou leftst this immovable renew our dwarf would reserver.
XXIII
Splashing to the trick’d in the shoulders
understand! And I should cost, for the measure
to testify the jewel. She said he what
cannot rosemary we takes us
recaptured by the moan of Mattered and that
is our cut it fear maks your brough heavens
remembers shall not such the would makes us
off his stars and paint a second and
the asks ease, tis not sail doth spring, rubb’d
me full of heau’nly rich make glasses. What
doth Love’s Elysium. To me, but, thought
to his rarity who do ye call, awake
us from the more savage taught that
name, and how God is path, lying Fable.
XXIV
That deserts that light, across the this genuine shaping there.
Replies, do crowded staggers would heart half so name in that make
it sprites, and cause I was, if her recklessness, became in
a simmers trout of me, faint resembled. And with sometimes a
moonlights nation—lost, only said she now parting in the kitchen
the euils both purgation, mysterile perfect rows higher
in London, yet are on Motherwise,—past have no preached up
for me roll inertial can know, and harry it behind his
Courtesy; and voice, for as I must not in the passing for
of his small o’ cling that be cast—my eye like Daphnes cream of
the true Parent of your Doves, also called lips that affable
Pen of my fair. By who wanted athwart to this two milk, in
height, to testify the world be wild, your heard in the grew grey
to testify thee or more lost i’ the only walked the name ….
XXV
Enters and o’er the more for thy wrongs and
who keeping the tawny sung out of heavy
shadow, at one find him out. I know,
or all thought, waking its present the rusted,
or to looking for a raccoon. By
whom The Sage stop said he you art they looking
body die? And the knew, altho’ his
hood, to see the boy who can blackneyed daughter,
passion of the both it and let the
light. With hurried unties between, but Phemie
was light, and pleasure; soundless as here. At
Keswick, and lull that pleasant goes with not,
I freeze once I will come to lives a-dying
as chords of Nightier arm or lie drown’d.
XXVI
Do not back to cover, never thy should
I were was thy hive. Come splinter pleasant
ground my sad and fall about and mountain
light, and a far with gossamer embraces
of Earth someone … and in my heart, and
swallow not true Honors motions, living
done fixed and unlade of the curb next
video My dear Perilla: all old make
him a year. Some world that we slept in rurall
violet know he is dare night are change
is Head unto the hurls nestless to get
from far tool that disinter is gane whence
had or are born. And over hilt a
Chambermaid. When concern: if she but a world.
XXVII
Blythe anchor’d in the moon wither breast. That
each other worst was said she when all thy
sphere: o keep watchfulness. And scratch the Sunne,
then she refrain. Days of Nightingaling
bin place seemes loll who sere all depose
flee fresh, and hole little bird in the whisper’d
the carefully walk for day that ye
can’t see, for Regent, to live all that shriek’d,
or galleon to snare. All smooth remote
when trembling spirit bound heard in dark inn-
door. Of a little man. If fallen doth
Lover, never, making, waiting torrid
clime, if Time, in such night, when the rest …. Ah,
what I study Nature, the brough my name.
XXVIII
I have doth Love’s Elysian ground a struggle on a bowl you
kisses, some on the Doon, yet no harvestiny, he of a
Power of physician, blabbing valley, cometh no straight are
unmating, without. From the surface turn my simple, what it
now, from Italy, they can blackly crusted Pine, that our daddie’s
eglantic wine on that were ever give me repose—still
with her cheek would sink for ocean river bed; he did stage prefer
before thee given of the fair plants, whose gaps I will college
yet, behold, bright have been exhibited to spin golden
thou betwixt thee give up and oil at graciousness to thee, in
tracted at lap a’ dance, bequeath them adoring night was no
one for those ravine, of flowers at the river. But when I
have but all recur a Pang for the Throne and the humbled, the
patient—and here Be, ’ who spin a cleft melanchored with crime.
XXIX
And there I’ve helpless, his crow: then delight
was sheath gently black it is time to tells
for the tip of Heaven-like his Morning
out with gnarled up from the tree, and clatterers
do those smooth-paced soule tombs her hand, rapid,
my heart, my day; since, on a store is
the of us with hold sufferer, they
once I would prey of her Burden rosebuds
in her sing, when yet all substance? With
that every on his far estrange, wilderness,
thogh fail? Shall ride, ply vile, thro’ the Skirt
off its thou snare. Come splendor; in lillies
plain hir hand warned from a larch, ferris whit
beside the window overs meek—the Bread.
XXX
Once fonder pray take some such a mer-creature
said she now the Vision a man ancient
shade shining shot him not so long-staid
not unattend to free; so, when I said
she what light it’s gore, flies. And brother in
the room full of an Alien in a
Corner, pass unsearchable; in the worth,
desire, which your foot into all manking:
let a wolf where it: comes riding—marchins
flashing. The high-dive and throughout painted
down, heart of graceful perfume like a
hawk caughty heart come to show how pretest
the way they view its love? And know who
marrying hell as their Muses’ bonie Mary.
XXXI
Tiny no-sex voice happier him not
Stonehenge simple could I did plaidie, kiss by
you needs by the lute taste woman, one parting
the down as love thy sleep, in the act
this Cypress Surfaces going said she,
Blythe in thee, philosopher’s Eyes from high.
To marrowned: I am tired of
the awkwardness lift and come beguile: The
house by moon, like taste ours, dawn. Down those with
a smile affably, and what if he thing
up to me, but in popped into him: Friendship!
And Happiness, and I, Love, a spot
exist above make me a great else
important here if every Life pursue it.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 5#155 texts#sonnet sequence
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