No Read and No Write makes a person blind

Section for reading and writing; Japanese History, Writeblr Tips and References; Fanfic dumpsite; Some NSFW fics and angst Not my WIP blog

[2soulscollide]

The right FREE tools to write a book

hello hello, it's me!

today I was thinking of how much you loved my masterlist featuring some free tools for writers, and I thought I would do something like that again but, this time, featuring just one or two tools per step while getting the best of "the writer's workbook" (which is also free).

before going any further, for those who don't know, "the writer's workbook" is, as the name says, a workbook for writers, with over 90 pages. it has lots of sheets divided into categories, to help you build the skeleton of your novel. (know more about it here).

however, we can get the most out of it using other complementary tools to ease this process.

Brainstorming

Reedsy generator - it's one of my favorites, and it can be quite useful when you're stuck and want to get an idea. you're free to make changes to it so that it is as unique as possible.

Mindmap

Lucidspark - although it has a premium version, I find it so helpful when it comes to making a mindmap. I've used it multiple times before, including for college assignments, and it's one of the best I've found so far.

Mindmup - I'm sharing this one here as an alternative to lucidspark, since this one doesn't require to create an account, and you have access to unlimited maps. however, in my opinion, it is not as good or intuitive as lucidspark is.

Come up with names

Behind the name - it's a classic, but one of my favorites. you can search every name you could ever imagine, and get its meaning, history, variations, etc. it still has some tools you can use such as a name generator, anagrams, and much more.

Make a profile

Fake person generator - although it was not created for authors, you might find it useful since it gives lots of details and you can be interested in some fields.

Character generator - this one was made for writers, and is simple and easy to use.

Family tree

Family echo - it's so simple yet so helpful.

Maps

Inkarnate - it has a paid version, but you can use it for free and create a great map.

Politics

Filteries - this is sooo complete and accurate!

hope this was helpful! have a nice day <3

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Ideas of fatal character flaws? :3

Hi :)

Fatal character flaws

Aristotle calls this ‘Hamartia’ - a tragic flaw or error. It can be anything happening to good or bad characters, even otherwise good character traits and with good intentions that ultimately lead to the character’s demise. They are often traits that don’t neccessarily lead to someone’s downfall, but can if they’re done to an extreme. So think of these otherwise normal ‘flaws’ as extremes.

ignorance - not seeking helpful knowledge

selfishness - not thinking about others

curiosity - getting involved in things they shouldn’t get involved in

impetuousness - being too passionate/ not thinking before acting

pride - not giving in/ not taking help from others 

hubris - exaggerated opinion of oneself/ thinking nothing can get to them

lack of self-control - can’t help/stop themself

indecisiveness* - not being able to make decisions

confirmation bias - only taking in information that supports one’s own belief 

arrogance -  thinking they are superior

Have fun!

- Jana

*Interesting example: Chidi from The Good Place. A morally great character who is so extreme in always trying to make the right choice and therefore not being able to make a decision until it is proven to be right, it basically lands him in hell.

[howtofightwrite]

Since adrenaline makes it easier to ignore pain, I’m wondering how severe an injury can be before adrenaline isn’t enough to allow a person to keep fighting

Fatal.

The scary thing about adrenaline is that you can suffer a mortal wound and not realize it until you drop dead. If you've ever seen the, “humans are space orcs,” meme, adrenaline is a big part of that. If you don't finish someone off, they are still a potential threat until they are clinically dead.

While it may seem slightly comical, the image of someone literally checking themselves for holes after being shot at is a real practice with genuine purpose. If they had an adrenaline rush, they might not be able to tell that they've been hit, and will need to physically examine themselves to ensure they're not bleeding to death without realizing it. (And, yes, that can absolutely happen.)

As a general rule, anything that will immediately kill someone, such as decapitation or catastrophic head trauma, will stop someone through an adrenaline rush. Destruction of the skeletal structure, (which is to say, destroying joints), might not completely stop them, but it's an injury they won't be able to power through (even if they aren't immediately aware of it.)

It's a little worse than I'm making it sound, too, because you can suffer non-fatal injuries during an adrenaline rush, and then aggravate the wound to the point that it becomes life threatening (or life-altering.) An adrenaline rush can, potentially, persist for over an hour.

In most cases, the adrenaline rush will drop off within a few minutes of the threat passing, though the state of threat is assessed by your brain, so your psychological state heavily affects that. Meaning, if you feel threatened, even if the actual danger has passed, the rush could continue (though it will usually drop off after, roughly, an hour.)

The “good” news is that an adrenaline rush will not prevent you from bleeding to death. So, if someone has been shot multiple times and is bleeding out, they'll still lose consciousness. You just need to make sure that they're actually incapacitated. Not that it matters, but as a minor up-side, adrenaline is delivered via the circulatory system, meaning if you start seriously bleeding, that's your adrenaline rush going with it, so the rush is likely to drop off prematurely in the event of fatal blood loss.

I'm not completely sure what the subjective experience is there. Catastrophic blood loss during an adrenaline rush is not something I have personal experience with, and my experiences with bleeding while dealing with an adrenaline rush is more just that bleeding is an extremely annoying inconvenience, when you don't need to consider what's happening. (To be clear, that's not just a glib dismissal, being aware of bleed was actually annoying. It might sound hilarious to be pissed off at your own blood leaking down the side of your face, but that was my experience. Also, for the record, I did not feel the gash that I was bleeding from, and angrily rubbed it a few times before realizing I'd been injured.)

The short answer to your question, “how much severely do you need to injure someone through an adrenaline rush?” You need to kill them.

That said, killing them is absolutely not your only option. Less than lethal devices, such as tasers or chemical sprays, can absolutely incapacitate someone under an adrenaline rush, without severely harming them. Similarly, restraints, and other submission techniques can be used to hold them down. In the case of restraints and submission holds, there is a danger of the individual injuring themselves, while they try to work their way out of the hold, but that risk is still vastly preferable to killing them on the spot.

Adrenaline is a very potent survival tool, in your physiology, and if you try to simply overpower that tool through direct force, it will lead to catastrophic consequences. However, alternative methods (in particular, shorting out someone's nervous system with a direct electrical charge, or simply interfering with the mechanical structure of their joints, can be just as effective at stopping them with far less dire consequences.

-Starke

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[creativepromptsforwriting]

I hope you have a less stressful week coming up!

One word: Deserted

Thank you!

Deserted

At this late hour, the parking lot was deserted except for some junk cars that were probably abandoned by their owners a while ago.

"Who would you take to a deserted island?" "No one, I don't do this survival stuff."

Later, historians would say that they had simply deserted to the enemy. But nothing was ever as simple as history books made it out to be.

"Did you come alone to this party?" "Well, all my friends have deserted me."

It must have been quite the beauty, back in the day when the streets were full of life. But after being deserted by its residents who moved on to better opportunities, it was merely a ghost town.

"Let's go to a deserted beach and make out in the sand."

She led him into a deserted side street and wants again, he asked himself why he was so willing to trust her.

One Word Prompt Lists

[writerswritecompany]

Quotable – Scott Lynch

Read more about the author here

[tsunamiwavesurfing]

[promptful]

70 Taunting Enemies Prompts

Remember, requests are open.

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, CURSING, MENTION OF BLOOD. MENTION OF A GUN.

DIALOGUE:

TAUNTER:

“Is that really all you got?” 

“Come on, you can do better than that.” 

“I’m not even sweating yet.” 

“Think I broke more of a sweat 

“I’m sure you can hit me if you try hard enough. I believe in you.” 

“So close.” 

“You’re… boring me.” 

“I expected more.” 

“Why couldn’t the cops deal with you?” 

“Oh, no.”

“I’m sooo scared.” 

“Honestly, if you weren’t threatening actual lives, you’d be more of a nuisance, really.” 

“This is what I was called for? You?” 

“What… is this?” 

“Do you want me to slow down for you?” 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get a hit in.” 

“This is stupid. Goodnight.” 

 “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to beat me one day.” 

“Come and get it.” 

“That actually hurt. Wow.” 

“Compared to my usual crowd, you’re nothing.” 

“Get out of my way.” 

“Move.” 

“Having fun?” 

“Aw, you’re not hurt already, are you?” 

“I was just playing. Surely you can take more.” 

“Oh my, is that blood? Just from that?” 

RESPONDING:

“You have to get through me!”

“Shut up!” 

“I can keep going.” 

“This— this is nothing.” 

“I’ll make you regret saying that!” 

“Then let me make this a little more challenging!” 

“Of course it hurts, dipshit.” 

“You should be scared.” 

“Stop— stop taunting me!” 

“Fun? Fun? Don’t insult me.” 

“I’ll show you better!” 

“I can’t stand you.” 

“Get out of my way!” 

“Over my dead body!” 

“I won’t let you get to them.” 

“I’ll make sure you can’t hurt anybody else.” 

“Over my grave, you bastard.” 

“I’ll take you down if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“If I can’t take you down, I will never forgive myself.” 

“Try and move me, I dare you!” 

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

“You want to see what I can do?” 

“You’re nothing.”

“Keep taunting me and see what happens.” 

“I’ll give you one chance, walk away.” 

“Fine, I guess we’re doing this.” 

“Y’know, talking during fighting isn’t very professional!” 

“Dammit, all right, here we go!” 

SCENARIOS:

You have a stupid smirk on your face, and I’m just trying to be serious. Why are you like this? Can we fight already? 

Why are you taunting me? Stop— stop dancing. We’re in the middle of a fight. 

When the cops/superhero/my friend told me what you were doing, I wanted to stay in bed. And now that I’m here, I’m thinking that maybe I should have. 

Is that bomb fake or real. I can never tell with you.

I’m bleeding from your knife/kicks/punches, but I’m not gonna stop fighting until you’re finally taken down. 

Every time you taunt me, I see red, and you know this. I should be stronger, but I’m not. 

I won’t let you hurt the people I love. Not while I’m still breathing. 

You notice that I’m breathing heavy, and you just keep smirking. I— I can keep going. I can. 

We used to be friends, what happened to us? Why do we always have to fight? 

If you’d just put that gun/remote/knife, we could go home, y’know? We don’t have to keep fighting. 

You’re not fighting like you used to, what happened? 

This is pathetic and a waste of my time, you’re in my way. 

You’ve gotten weaker, I can’t help but let a smirk cross my lips, this is almost… funny. 

You stumble against the wall with half-lidded eyes. It’d be so easy to just stroll by you, but for some reason, I can’t help but keep taunting you. 

You hate me. I hate you. Yet, taunting you is one of my favorite things to do. 

[sewercl0wn]

Antagonists, anti-heroes, and villains: A how-to (part 1)

Antagonists are what arguably drive a story. From facilitating conflict and plot progression, to defining and shaping the protagonist. A well written villain could turn your story from meh to unforgettable.

manipulation_.

Good and bad isn’t black and white. A well written villain will bring intrigue to their points and make them appeal, even if you don’t directly support them.

For example, 1984 by George Orwell was greatly improved thanks to O’Brien - while I don’t think he is correct in anything he’s done, I was immersed in his reasonings and manipulative personality.

Taken from the book, I fully believe this following passage shows gaslighting and manipulative anti-heroes and the effect they have on the victim:

“...but the aim of this was simply to humiliate him and destroy his power of arguing and reasoning. Their real weapon was the merciless questioning that went on and on, hour after hour, tripping him up, laying traps for him, twisting everything that he said, convicting him at every step of lies and self-contradiction until he began weeping as much from shame as from nervous fatigue. Sometimes he would weep half a dozen times in a single session. Most of the time they screamed abuse at him and threatened at every hesitation to deliver him over to the guards again; but sometimes they would suddenly change their tune, call him comrade, appeal to him in the name of Ingsoc and Big Brother, and ask him sorrowfully whether even now he had not enough loyalty to the Party left to make him wish to undo the evil he had done. When his nerves were in rags after hours of questioning, even this appeal could reduce him to snivelling tears. In the end the nagging voices broke him down more completely than the boots and fists of the guards. He became simply a mouth that uttered, a hand that signed, whatever was demanded of him. His sole concern was to find out what they wanted him to confess, and then confess it quickly, before the bullying started anew.”

Other examples include Mother Gothel from Tangled and Light Yagami from Death note

Knowing the importance of a manipulative character, here’s how to write one:

Seclusion. By secluding and isolating the victim from other influences that can counter the scheming tactics. By taking someone away from familiar settings and people, they are more vulnerable

Guilt tripping and (mildly) degrading comments. Even minor playful ‘jokes’ or ‘teasing’ can contribute. By making someone feel worse or making them feel in debt, they feel morally obligated to stick around. Some might call this ‘playing the victim card’ (Some manipulators might switch between victimizing themselves and being the bully. Whatever is most convenient at the time)

Trust. There has to be a level of trust between victim and the character before they make any moves. Someone is more likely to overlook manipulative advances from someone who has helped them, shared moments with them, etc,. The victim will logically be more likely to trust a friend more than a stranger.

Remember, this doesn’t always happen immediately. Manipulators may be skilled in their craft, but they aren’t magic. It can take take days, weeks, months, or even years for a character to manipulate their targets.

base it off real life_.

A realistic character is always more interesting that a 2d one. People have layers, caked upon each other. If you're having trouble to write your antagonist - base it off real life.

E.g. You want to write a clown serial killer, base it off The Joker from batman, or "Clown Killer Gacy" (John Wayne Gacy)

THIS ISN'T AN EXCUSE TO PLAGIARIZE! (And you don't wanna get sued from making it too similar to a real character) read this post to learn about how to avoid plagiarism

(tw: don't google this next guy if you're not comfortable w gore + murder)

All villains have motive, taking the example of Blake Leibel - he tortured and murdered his fiance because their newborn daughter was taking away all the attention, as well as stress from avoiding Russian mob bosses that were trying to get money back from his brother.

Analyze villains you like from your favourite books, animes and movies. Delve deep and do research!

this was long, so i’ll make more parts to this and link them here. hope this helps!

[lyralit]

show, don't tell:

anticipation - bouncing legs - darting eyes - breathing deeply - useless / mindless tasks - eyes on the clock - checking and re-checking

frustration - grumbling - heavy footsteps - hot flush - narrowed eyes - pointing fingers - pacing / stomping

sadness - eyes filling up with tears - blinking quickly - hiccuped breaths - face turned away - red / burning cheeks - short sentences with gulps

happiness - smiling / cheeks hurting - animated - chest hurts from laughing - rapid movements - eye contact - quick speaking

boredom - complaining - sighing - grumbling - pacing - leg bouncing - picking at nails

fear - quick heartbeat - shaking / clammy hands - pinching self - tuck away - closing eyes - clenched hands

disappointment - no eye contact - hard swallow - clenched hands - tears, occasionally - mhm-hmm

tiredness - spacing out - eyes closing - nodding head absently - long sighs - no eye contact - grim smile

confidence - prolonged eye contact - appreciates instead of apologizing - active listening - shoulders back - micro reactions

[love-me-a-good-prompt]

50 WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF “SAID”

Do you ever find yourself over-using the word “said” in your writing? Try using these words/phrases instead:

stated

commented

declared

spoke

responded

voiced

noted

uttered

iterated

explained

remarked

acknowledged

mentioned

announced

shouted

expressed

articulated

exclaimed

proclaimed

whispered

babbled

observed

deadpanned

joked

hinted

informed

coaxed

offered

cried

affirmed

vocalized

laughed

ordered

suggested

admitted

verbalized

indicated

confirmed

apologized

muttered

proposed

chatted

lied

rambled

talked

pointed out

blurted out

chimed in

brought up

wondered aloud

(NOTE: Keep in mind that all of these words have slightly different meanings and are associated with different emotions/scenarios.)

[writingmaz]

Writing Tips

Descriptions in Between Dialogue

✧

⤠ how characters interact with the environment

⇝ moving something, picking something up, looking somewhere

⤠ how the environment interacts with the characters

⇝ weather, other character’s actions or movements

⤠ gestures

⇝ facial expressions, body language

⤠ shifts in position

⇝ standing, sitting, leaning, shifting weight, crossing arms/legs

⤠ physical reactions

⇝ body temperature, fidgeting, heart rate, character quirks

⤠ environmental descriptions

⇝ descriptions using the five senses, setting, character’s appearances

⤠ internal dialogue

⇝ emotional reaction to what was said, reflection of past experiences, connections to other characters/settings/actions

➵ I want to reiterate… descriptions using the five senses ; when in doubt, think of the five senses your character is experiencing and pick what best moves the story forward

[writing-prompt-s]

The local superhero is also secretly the head of the most influential crime family. He sees it as a necessary evil - controlling or outcompeting the crime he can’t stop.

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked Up Dazai - Side A (1)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Final

I translated the first few pages of the new Dazai novel, which was given out as free bonus for those who come to the cinema to watch the BEAST live action movie in Japan.

Please carefully read the notes below before progressing.

- This post contains spoilers. It is not a summary, but a full translation of the first few pages of novel. So if you plan to read the novel later yourself and think this would ruin your expectation, please stop here.

· I tried to keep the translation as accurate as possible, but as I don't speak English or Japanese as my native language, I may make some mistakes or use weird words etc. This translation might not be final. I may come back and fix it later if I find any mistakes.

· This is a moviegoers-only benefit, so please be extra careful when discussing it about on Twitter. Use a #spoiler tag on your tweets or your fanarts. You can share the links to this post but don't take many screenshots. Don't retranslate it. Don’t repost this anywhere else out of Tumblr.

· DON’T GO TO THE AUTHORS’ OR OFFICIAL TWITTERS TO COMMENT ABOUT THE CONTENTS OF IT.

I'm sorry if that's too much but honestly all I want is for everyone to have a good experience, for those who wants to read the novels to be able to read the novels, and for those who don't want to be spoiled, to be safe from it as much as possible.

If you have read and are okay with all the above, please continue to move forward and enjoy the novel. Have a good day!

A bloody corpse of a young man is lying on my front porch.

I look down at the corpse, then at the front of the house. It is a quiet morning. The apartment across the street is casting a long black shadow on the pavement in front of me. The trumpet vines planted in the hedge are rustling in the breeze, and whispering to each other in a way that human cannot decipher. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the sound of the long-distance trucks scraping against the road surface. And there is a corpse in the middle of the stairs in front of me.

In any case, to our eyes, a corpse is always a strangely exaggerated presence. But this time it is different. This corpse blends in with the landscape, becoming one with the everyday peaceful morning scenery. After a while, I realize the reason. The corpse’s chest is moving up and down faintly. It is not a corpse, it is alive.

I look at the young man. He is all black. A high-collar black cloak, a three-piece suit, a black tie. The things that are not black are his button-down shirt, and the bandages around his head. This one is a mottled color of white and red. This color pattern reminds me of some ominous Chinese prophetic characters. The place he is lying, is the middle of the stairs that leads to the front porch. The blood stains continuing down the cracked concrete stairs looks like he has been crawling.

Question. What should I do with this nearly-corpse in front of my eyes?

The answer is simple. If I touch him with the tip of my toes and put some weight on him, he will just roll down to the ground below. If I do so, then he will not be on my premise anymore. He will be on a public road. The country’s territory. All those who are in trouble within the territory of the country should be saved by the mercy of the country. An ordinary postman like me should go home and have breakfast.

I am not doing that because I am a cold and heartless person. I am doing that because it is a survival necessity. The young man’s wounds are clearly from gunshots. He has been shot multiple times. There are probably more holes in his body than I can see from here. And to top it all off, he is holding a bunch of new notes in his left hand.

What can this mean? Nothing. It means nothing, except that his existence is a huge trouble, and that nothing good will come out of getting involved with him. In other words, he is clearly not someone that an average citizen should get involved with. A normal person in his right mind should have fled to the next city at the sight of him. Just like Jonah in the Bible would do the second time he runs into a giant fish in a stormy sea.

I look at the young man, at the road, and the sky, and at him again.

And then I start to act. First, I approach the guy and lift him up by his sides. Then I drag him by his heels into the house and lay him down on the wall-mounted bed. He is much lighter than he looks. Carrying him alone is not that much of a trouble. I check his wounds. There are many deep wounds, and the bleeding is not usual, but if he receives immediate proper treatment, it is not like he will die.

I take out my medical kit box from the back of the closet, and give him some simple first aid treatments. I put a towel under his upper body, cut his clothes with a pair of scissors to expose the wounds, and check if there is any bullet left inside. In order to stop the blood flow, I apply pressure on the pressure points: below the armpits, inner elbows, ankles, backs of knees, and tie them tightly with a clean cloth. Then I put disinfected tourniquets to the wounds to stop the bleeding. Fortunately for him, I can do this kind of first aid even with my eyes closed.

After I am done with the treatments, I look down at the young man and cross my arms. His breathing has stabilized. His respiratory system and bones seem to be intact. But he does not seem to be waking up. “It’s fine already, just kick him out.” I can hear the voice in my head. There is nothing more stupid than treating a suspicious guy like this. I guess I should listen to that voice. That is what a wise man would do.

Before following the angel’s advice, I take another look at the young man. I don’t recognize his face. Probably not someone I know. I say probably, because the bandages covering half of his face makes it almost impossible to make out his features. But he is much younger than what I first thought. He is probably young enough to pass as a “boy”.

Then I remember the wad of cash he was holding. He is still holding them. If it is actually as much as it looks, it must be a fortune for someone with a miserably cheap wage like me. In this situation, it should be okay to have some of them gently transferred to my pocket as a thank for saving his life, right? Thinking so, I pick up the wad of notes. And now I finally realize that I am the biggest idiot in this town.

I feel a bitter taste spreading inside my mouth.

That is an unused bundle of notes. There is some blood on them, but the paper strap, the proof that they are new, is there. There is no bank’s name printed on the strap. There is no printing of any kind. And the notes are neatly lined up by serial numbers in ascending order.

I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach.

There are two possibilities that I can think of. First, this bundle of notes has been taken out of the Reserve Bank of Japan Mint, before it hits the market. That would mean this man is a plague. There is no chance that an ordinary person could get his hands on such a thing. The notes printed at Japan Mint are first sent to the Ministry of Finance, where their serial numbers are scanned to become usable notes. Then they will be sent in cash transport vehicles to branches of the Reserve Bank. From there, they continue to be subdivided and distributed to city banks. At that point, the straps will be switched with those of the city banks.

However, there is no printing on his trap at all. The only way to be able to carry out a wad of notes in that state is to steal it from the Reserve Bank. The most likely way is to attack a cash transport car. Could it be that he just returned from a raid like that?

But if so, I will just stroke my chest in relief, and go back to making coffee in my kitchen. The cash car robbers are violent guys, but only violent. Violence alone cannot make a storm.

There is another possibility.

These are counterfeit notes. I take out a magnifying glass from the back of the room, and carefully examine the wad of notes in my hand. I become completely chilled that my fingers are tingling. I try comparing them with the notes in my own wallet. I can’t tell the difference at all.

A supernote.

I feel dizzy.

If that is the case, the thing in my hand right now has become as dangerous as a small nuclear warhead. Counterfeit currency is a tool of warfare that has been used way before bows and arrows. If one can bring an amount of well-made false currency into an enemy country, the value of that currency will drop due to the increase amount of money in circulation, leading to inflation. A country is, in a sense, its own currency. By skillfully fueling distrust in a country’s currency, it is possible to destroy the economy and bring down a whole nation. For that reason, the National Security Agency is always on the lookout for counterfeit notes. If this level of a note is to be brought into the market, it would not be the city police’s business. It is much higher. The National Security Agency, or the Military.

I put the wad of notes on my desk as if I am throwing them away. I don’t want to leave my fingerprints on them anymore. I head to the phone. If I report the incident right away, I might be able to argue for some extenuating circumstances with the authorities. There is no time to waste.

When I pick up the receiver, I hear a faint voice. It isn’t coming from the phone.

“Put the phone down.”

I turn to the direction where the voice came from. Before I knew it, the young man has opened his eyes and is looking at me with those eyes. I look at the receiver and the youth in turn. Then I say, “What if I don’t?”

“I kill you.”

Those words are as mediocre as the unsold leftover packs lining up in a deli, at least to this young man. I can tell from looking at his eyes. When he utters the word “kill”, it is nothing more than an ordinary, everyday word for him. Just like cutting your nails, or going out to buy more cigarettes, those kinds of words.

“How?” I put down the receiver, but I have not returned it to the base station. Then I say, “You’ve got holes all over your body. You can’t move anything. You’re dying everywhere. You don’t even have a gun. To kill me in that condition, it would take two hundred of you.”

“I don’t need that much.” He says with a chilled voice. “I’m Port Mafia.”

Those words only are enough.

“Port Mafia”, I carefully choose my words before saying “Then I have no choice but to obey.” Then I take my time and quietly put the receiver down.

“That’s good,” he chuckles.

If he really is from Port Mafia, I would have to be careful even about lifting or lowering a spoon in front of him. When the opponent is the Port Mafia, the synonym of darkness and violence, even if I report this and manage to escape today, there is no telling what will come later. A human being has a total of about two hundred bones. But it would not be strange if I will be shredded into just as many pieces of flesh.

I stare at him for about three seconds. Then I go to the kitchen. I keep the door open so that I can watch him from there. I start making coffee in the kitchen. I put the kettle on the fire and wet the rod with some water. I add the coffee powder, and pour boiling water in.

“If I’m not allowed to call the police, what about the doctors?” I say, keeping my eyes on the water.

“What I’ve done is just emergency first aids at best. If you don’t get checked by a proper doctor, you will die soon.”

“No need to worry.” The young man speaks with a slightly stretched out voice. “This much is no big deal. I’m used to injuries.”

“Is that so? Then I will obey.” I stir the coffee and set a timer. “In any case, there is no way a normal postman like me can go against the Port Mafia demons.”

“Being obedient is good. So next…”

Suddenly, the young man starts coughing and vomiting blood. I quickly run up to him and turn his head to the side so that he will not choke on his own blood. I check inside his mouth. I can’t tell where the bleeding is from in this situation. It could be just a cut inside his mouth, or it could be an internal injury. I don’t know.

“Go to the hospital. Get treatments. You are really going to die.” I state.

“It’s perfect then.” he speaks like whispering. “Just let me die like this.”

I feel a chilled wind passing through me.

I look at the young man. He is just staring at the ceiling. No emotions, no intents. Just a flat expression, like one who is just telling his age. I cannot believe my own eyes. I don’t even feel like there is a human there. If it was late night instead of a refreshing early morning, I would think that he was a ghost or a hallucination.

Crazy things keep happening today. My life is about to get screwed up it seems.

“Fine then.” I say. “If you want to die, just die. It’s your own life. I won’t stop you. But I will be in trouble if you die here. If you die here, no one will be able to testify that I am not the one who caused your injuries. I might be arrested.”

“To be arrested, or to be killed by Port Mafia later, which one is better?’

I stare at him while saying, “That’s a hard question.”

I go back to the kitchen, wait for the timer and turn off the fire. I then take out the cream can and ask, “You want some coffee?”

No answer.

“How did you collapse in front of my house?”

Still no answer.

“What the heck are those notes in your hand?”

No answer for this one of course.

I feel as if I’m talking to a wind fairy. A character from a picture book who suddenly came to my house on a peaceful morning. Just that he is covered in blood, and he wants to die.

I pour coffee into two cups and add in the cream. I watch the steam, wait for some time and start stirring. Then I notice that I can’t feel the sign of anyone in the next room anymore. I can’t even hear him breathing. No hint of death drifting either.

I poke my head out of the door, the cups still in my hand. The young man is crawling towards the front door. If he could move his legs, he would just walk out. But it looks like he hasn’t got that much strength back, so he just has his arms hooked on the floor and slowly creeping forward. Just like a prisoner escaping from cell in those old war movies.

He notices my gaze, and then as if he has given up, a mocking smile appears on his face.

“You don’t want me to die in this house, do you? Then if I leave, you’ll have nothing to do with it. No need to help me. No need to ponder anything. Just stay there and watch.”

I ask him, still holding the coffee, “Do you want to die that much?”

“Of course I do. I joined the Port Mafia, but there was still nothing.” replies the young man in a voice that sounds like a soul-deprived gasp. “The only thing I want now, is death.”

Then he starts crawling again.

I take a sip of my coffee while watching that. His progress is pathetically slow. I take another sip. He keeps moving without a rest. He has no intent to look back at me anymore.

There is only one thing to do.

“It’s no use to stop me.” The young man seems to notice my movement. He says with his eyes looking forward, “No one can go against the Port Mafia. And no one in the Port Mafia can go against me. In other words, no one can whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!??”

He is pulled backward.

I wrap him with a bed sheet and lift him up. I then twist the two ends to close it. Like a candy wrapping paper. Then I turn him upside down and carry him back.

“It hurts it hurts it hurts! My wounds are opening! What the hell are you doing, you blockhead. You want to be killed?”

“I don’t want to be killed. But I don’t want to let you die either. If you go out in this state, you will definitely die. Just make up a death story without me in it when you get better.”

As it looks like he is going to let out more complaint, I shake the lump of cloth.

“Ouch ouch! Stop it! I hate pains!!”

“Then will you give up?”

“No!”

I try to come up with a way to deal with it and I get one. Let’s tie him to the bed.

I put him down on the bed and open the pack. I bring in a big towel and wrap it around his arms, which are crossed in front of his chest, altogether with his torso. I take the decorative cord from the door way to bind his legs together and tie the ends to the metal fittings of the bed. I raise the pillows, change the blanket into a new one, and open the window to let the fresh air in.

“For the time being, until your wounds have healed, I will have you stay like that.” I look down to the young man and say “Is there anything you want?”

“My nose is itching.” He looks at me resentfully while wriggling his two arms that are no longer free.

“Poor you.” I go back to the coffee in the kitchen.

The young man’s insults are echoing behind my back. But this neighborhood is sparsely populated, so there is no need to worry about disturbing the neighbors. I enjoy my morning coffee.

And so begins the strange and short communal life of me and Dazai together.

...

[philosophybits]

“Totalitarianism begins in contempt for what you have. The second step is the notion: ‘Things must change—no matter how, Anything is better than what we have.’”

— Hannah Arendt, “Interview with Roger Errera”, The New York Review of Books (26 October 1978)

[simpnoootsimp]

✨Polaroid Manhwa Posters PT 6✨

I made this polaroid manhwa posters. Hope you all like it. Feel free to send recommendations/requests.

[sageandwizard]

Webtoon Manhwa :)

[salvadorbonaparte]

Hey did you know I keep a google drive folder with linguistics and language books  that I try to update regularly 

UPDATE because apparently not everyone has seen this yet the new and improved version of this is a MEGA folder

I know there’s so many more urgent things but if you like this resource you may consider buying me a ko-fi

[sageandwizard]

language

Languages

[dailycharacteroption]

Royal Alchemist (Alchemist Archetype)

The concept of high-ranking mages being hired as retainers for noble courts is nothing new, with said mystics not only serving as political players in their own right, but also in dealing with various supernatural threats that a bunch of nobles probably cannot handle.

The same is true for the royal alchemist, though they typically deal with more mundane problems. While they may indeed brew up alchemical enhancements and medicines for less pressing issues, their primary role is that of healer, specifically against poison and disease, staples of the subtlty-laced intrigues of nobility.

Such alchemists are most common in regions where the rulership has a strained relationship with the local practitioners of divine magic. The crown may support a revisionist interpretation of a god’s tenants which clashes with the views of the orthodox-ruled greater church, for example. Or perhaps the local popular faiths are not geared towards healing.

Regardless, these alchemists are typically dedicated to their craft, healing those in need, using their pay to fund their own projects, as well as leverage their own power when concocting less urgently-required alchemical substances.

Each day, these alchemists prepare a set of materials they can use to make a series of antitoxins, either making a large number of weak ones, or a few very potent ones. At first, they only can create those that aid against poison, but later they can also ward against disease. Particularly powerful alchemists can brew an elixir that provides temporary immunity to one or the other, though doing so expends a large amount of their resources. They can even take their previously prepared concoctions and redistribute the potency. However, these antitoxins, no matter how powerful, become chemically inert after about a day, preventing them from being stockpiled, forcing them to use other methods, such as actual extracts and potions, to create more durable potables.

While flavored for intrigue, this archetype is useful for any alchemist who faces poison so regularly they find it more viable to brew elixers to fight it than to develop their own resistance to it. Pretty much any build can go with this archetype, but I recommend a healing focus.

When it comes to the guy who is supposed to keep you from dying, whether from poison or any sort of injury, an important quality is loyalty. This is easy enough with many goodly clerics, since they often have religious codes that give them a moral obligation to help those in need. However, an alchemist may not have that, their loyalty bought with large sums of gold and/or personal friendship. If either of those is subverted, say by a larger potential payment or a noble foolishly taking their healer for granted, then it may only be the fear of reprisal protecting them, and fears can be overcome.

 Always sporting full-body clothing as a vertical head-wrap, the new alchemist that the king hired is brilliant, but decidedly inhuman, with many hushed whispers suggesting he is some manner of monstrous being. In truth, he is merely a kasatha from a far-away desert land.

The Bloodletter Jungle is notorious for being one of the most deadly places on the planet, but nevertheless, Faelbar, royal alchemist to the Stegosaurus King (A title, not an indication of species), travels there periodically, relying on his trained troodon companion to seek out the medicinal plants required for his work.

The queen has fallen ill, and the royal alchemist and  local cardinal are stumped as to the cause and cure, the illness rejecting healing both alchemical and divine. A substantial bounty has been offered for the one who can heal her Majesty, but any who investigate my find that things are much more complicated.