#but i really wanna write i miss nano soldiers

[zephsthings]

gang. who wants tomorrow to be (nano) soldier saturday ... because zeph might be writing chapter five

[generallynerdy]

Delinquents (Peter Parker X Reader)

ENDGAME SPOILERS - DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN YOU

Summary: The first halfway decent guy in the galaxy (Y/N) has met happens to be a disaster of a human being, Peter Parker. Unfortunately, both of their guardians are more than a little protective of them.

Requested by & Anon: Can you write a Peter Parker x reader where they meet in the final battle in Endgame and she’s, like, Captain Marvel’s sidekick/second-in-command, so Carol is protective of her?

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (L/N) - last name Warnings: mentioned kidnapping, mentioned memory loss, mentioned forced military service, battles, injuries, stitches, injuries being stitched, cursing definitely Word Count: 2,135

Note: i...had too much fun with this. Pls give me more carol and tony and peter and

    “So...they decided to find the stones and bring back past Thanos-- all without telling you?” (Y/N) questioned.

    Her mentor, Carol Danvers, sighed. “Yep, that’s about it.”

    Their conversation seemed relaxed, but the two were soaring through space in modified Kree uniforms, decorated in red, blue, and gold. Carol used the suit’s built in helmet only to communicate with (Y/N), who had to have her suit fully on for space travel.

Unlike Carol, (Y/N) had no special powers. She was simply a well-trained human being that had been taken by the Kree after she had a run-in with Skrulls. She couldn’t remember a thing of her old life, much like Carol had experienced a while back. When they met, Carol couldn’t help taking the girl under her wing.

So, there they were, mentor and apprentice, racing to the aid of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

“Approaching the compound,” Carol said suddenly. “Get your gear ready, kiddo.”

    “I thought I was First Lieutenant,” (Y/N) teased.

    Carol snorted. “That’s Monica. You’re Second Lieutenant and you know it.” They shared a laugh before she went serious. “I’ll take down the ship, you find the other Captain and see what you can do.”

    “Yes, ma’am,” she said instantly.

    They approached the compound sight and zoomed into the fight. Carol went for the ship, as she said, while (Y/N) flew down, using suit modifications that had been made for her, and looked for Captain Rogers.

    “Danvers, we could use the assist,” a man said.

She spotted the man of red, white, and blue and landed in front of him, knowing instantly that she was in the right place.

    “Captain Rogers?” (Y/N) asked, standing tall with her shoulders back.

    “Yeah,” he said with a tilt of his head. “Who’s asking?”

    “First Lieutenant (Y/N) (L/N), sir,” she replied, giving a good and proper salute. “Captain Danvers has me at your service.”

    He blinked a few times before smiling a little. “Good to meet you, Lieutenant. You’re a little young, huh?”

    “I was a Lieutenant with the Kree,” she shrugged. “It’s just kind of an in-joke now, since Carol saved me. Anyway, how can I be of help?”

    Rogers nodded and gestured down the field. “One of ours is carrying the stones.We gotta get them safely to an ugly brown van farther that way and send ‘em back to the right year.”

    “Got it,” (Y/N) nodded before pressing a hand to her wrist. “Captain, you got that?”

    “Loud and clear,” Carol replied over the comms. “Does their carrier happen to be a kid with a mess of brown hair?”

    Rogers snorted a little. “That’s him.”

    “That’s him. I’m on my way.”

    With that, (Y/N) flew off again, wind whipping through her hair as she did. She observed the ground below her as she soared, searching for the kid with messy hair, as Carol had described. She saw him a good distance from the central force of the battle, but he was headed right toward it, as he was supposed to. As she descended to meet him, she watched him get knocked off his feet and fall into the dirt.

    “You okay?” (Y/N) asked, rushing over and reaching out a hand to help pull him up.

    When he was on his feet again, he nodded slightly, looking at her with slight wonder in his eyes. “Yeah-- yeah, I’m good.”

    “I’m (Y/N),” she introduced. As soon as she did, Carol landed next to her with a rumble of the ground. “She’s Carol.”

    The boy fumbled for words. “I’m, uh, I’m Peter-- Peter Parker.”

    “Hi, Peter Parker,” Carol grinned dorkily. “You got something for us?”

    Peter almost shyly passed her the new gauntlet with the stones in it before glancing over at the masses of aliens headed right for them. “Dunno how you’re gonna get it through there alone.”

    “Don’t worry,” said a voice. “She’s not.”

    Both Peter and (Y/N) were in awe when an entire troop of badass women joined them, weapons tightly in their hands, if they had any. Despite this near army of reinforcements, Carol frowned and looked to her second-in-command.

    “C’mon,” she said. “I need back-up.”

    (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other women pointedly, but was ignored when Carol took her arm and dragged her forward. Without another word, they were thrown into the battle, barely given a moment to breathe, much less speak.

    “Really!?” (Y/N) shouted to her as they flew through the crowds, taking a shot now and then. “The first normal looking, half decent guy we meet and you get protective now?”

    “Shut up, Lieutenant, and focus on not dying!”

    (Y/N) sighed. “I hate you.”

    Carol scoffed, gauntlet tight in her arms. “Please,” she said. “You love me.”

    Post Endgame, as Dr Strange had become fond of calling it, Carol instructed (Y/N) to head to the medbay and take care of herself, seeing as she’d been pretty beat up in the battle. But who wasn’t, to be frank?

    After a close call with Tony, everyone was shaken. Carol and (Y/N) had barely put together a makeshift device using his suit’s built-in nano technology and their own old Kree rigs on their suits to heal his arm. He’d almost died in his wife’s arms. Luckily, the two were too quick for that.

    Peter was particularly shaken by Tony’s near death. When the man gasped for breath for the first time in a good minute, the boy instantly hugged the life out of (Y/N), thanking her through sobs.

    Seeing as the compound had been destroyed, there was an emergency aid center set up in the remnants of the battlefield. Those who weren’t as badly hurt could travel home with the help of the wizards. Some of the closer members of the Avengers travelled to the new temporary Avengers base-- which was actually old. Avengers Tower was back in business.

    (Y/N) sauntered into the medbay with minor injuries, glancing into recovery rooms as she passed them. Most of them were full of patients who had needed emergency attention, but in the fifth room down, she found a very different person there.

    Peter Parker glanced at her briefly, but drew his attention back to the needle in his hand. He was attempting to stitch up a head wound by himself, using only a mirror on a metal tray by his recovery bed. He was failing miserably. When he missed his mark and gasped in pain, (Y/N) stepped into the room.

    “Let me help,” she said, approaching.

    Without letting him protest, though he seemed too tired to do so, she took the needle and began to stitch himself up herself. Peter had to look up at an odd angle to let her reach his cut, but it gave him the perfect view of (Y/N)’s face as she worked; furrowed eyebrows, bitten lip. She was entirely focused on him.

    He had barely muttered a thanks before the work was halfway done.

    “So, Peter Parker,” (Y/N) hummed as she continued, “What’s your story?”

    “I don’t-- I don’t really have one,” he muttered.

    The girl chuckled. “I doubt that. Everybody has a story.”

    “Well...I was bitten by a radioactive spider. So I have super strength and can stick to walls.” He told his story as bluntly as he could. “I made a webbing solution and a costume and became Spider-Man, I guess. Then, Mr. Stark made me a suit and let me join the Avengers-- more or less.”

    (Y/N) stopped for a second, processing his tale. “Huh,” she said. “I thought I was weird.”

    “Yeah?” He asked with a small smile. “What’s, uh, what’s your story?”

    “I ran into these aliens when I was little,” she started. “The Skrull. The Kree fought them off and couldn’t wipe my memories of them, so they kidnapped me and turned me into a soldier. I got to First Lieutenant before Carol found me and freed me. I’ve been with her ever since, ‘cause I can’t remember my life on Earth.”

    “Wow,” Peter whispered, grimacing slightly as the stitches stung him. “That’s…”

    (Y/N) laughed. “Crazy, I know.”

    “Not that crazy,” he said in an attempt to make her feel better. “We just beat up a humanoid plum with a bunch of wizards and superheroes.”

    She burst into giggles at that, as did he. Her laughter only egged him on and by the time his stitches were in, (Y/N) was red in the face from laughing. This Peter kid was pretty hilarious and he thought she was great. Nobody ever thought he was that funny.

    “You’re pretty cool,” he muttered as she went to clean up around his now fully stitched cut. “For somebody who was a soldier in an alien army.”

    (Y/N) grinned and shook her head, wiping at his forehead with a damp cloth. “And you’re pretty cool for a high school boy.”

    She took the cloth and went to put it away, turning away from Peter. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, probably about to regret what he was going to say. That said, he was gonna do it anyway.

    “So, uh, I know this probably the worst time ever,” he said. “But do you wanna get something to eat sometime? With me? I dunno, maybe downtown or something or--”

    “I’m not exactly familiar with Earth customs anymore,” she interrupted, smiling to herself before turning back around. “But are you asking me on a date?”

    Peter swallowed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, if you want to…”

    (Y/N) gave him a big smile, unable to keep it back at his nervous demeanor. “I’d like that.”

    “You-- you would? Really?”

    “Definitely,” she nodded. “But I’ll have to escape Carol first. She’s...really protective.”

    He laughed a little, nerves finally starting to wear off. “Tell me about it,” he agreed. “I think Mr. Stark would lock me in my room for the rest of my life if he could.”

    “Speak of the devil…” (Y/N) suddenly whispered.

    They could hear shouting down the hall. From the entrance of the medbay, echoes of two distinct voices reached their ears; one of a very pissy Captain and a less-than-pleased genius. Their parents were essentially arguing. What they didn’t realise was that each of their kids was listening in.

    “You keep your Spiderling away from my kid,” Carol huffed.

    Tony sputtered. “Yeah, well, keep your space soldier away from my kid.”

    “Did you hear that?” Peter gasped, drawing (Y/N)’s attention to him. “He called me his kid!”

    She grinned at his pure reaction before glancing out in the hall. She saw them in power stances, completely focused on each other. Smiling to herself, she shrunk back into the recovery room and looked over at her companion.

    “Maybe we should go on that date right now,” she suggested.

    Peter stammered. “Wh-- what? Like right-- Like right now? Right now?”

    “Yeah,” (Y/N) laughed. “Before they inevitably separate us for who knows how long. You in?”

    “Oh, I’m definitely in,” he said with a shy smile.

    She grinned proudly. “Good, ‘cause I have a terrible, terrible idea. But it’s gonna be hilarious in, like, 5 years.”

    “You know what?” Carol huffed. “I’m gonna go get my ‘space soldier’ and we’re gonna leave.”

    “Good!” Tony exclaimed as she began to walk away from him and toward the recovery rooms. “Good riddance! You keep her away from my kid, you hear? He’s been traumatized by aliens enough!”

    Carol scoffed and shouted back. “She’s human, genius!” She turned away to look into the recovery room and grab her kid, but realised it was empty. “Shit.”

    Tony walked up at her lack of argument and looked into the room, having the same realisation. “If she took my boy, I swear to god--!”

    “WOOHOO!”

    Both heroes whipped around at the exclamation, staring out the massive windows in the tower to see their two wards having the time of the lives. Peter was fully clothed in his Spider-Man gear and had a string of web attached to (Y/N)’s feet as she used her formerly Kree space suit to fly down the street. She pulled him along, laughing her ass off at his mutual amusement.

    Meanwhile, their guardians were fuming.

    “PETER PARKER, YOU JUVENILE DELINQUENT--!”

    “YOU ARE SO GROUNDED, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

    But she and Peter ignored their exclamations.

    “Where to, Spider-Man?” She shouted down at him, a silly grin on her face.

    He laughed, though it was muffled by the heavy wind. “I know a great shawarma place downtown!”

    “What’s shawarma?” (Y/N) asked, tilting her head.

    “You haven’t had shawarma!?” Peter gasped, almost offended before laughing loudly. “Oh, we are gonna have so much fun!”

Masterlist

[wildwhiskey236]

Character Interview Tag

I was tagged by @albarnesauthor!

We will be interviewing my OC’s from my NaNo WIP Embracing Shadows. (A/N- I wanna do this a little differently than what I’ve done before, so it may get long but stick with me.)

Our five assholes sit in the laughably nondescript room, scowls immediately crossing their faces, protests on their lips at the description. The author reminds them of their current behavior in their story and all protests die on their lips, several of them muttering an agreement that yeah, maybe they were assholes. 

1: What is your full name?

“Hector Greatsnarl.”

“Lauren Rosewing.”

“Lindsey Hallowedstrike.”

“Davy Evenflaw.”

“Natia Stoutblossom.”

Eyes turn to Natia, Hector and Lauren giving her a flat stare while Lindsey smirked, Davy commented, “We all know that isn’t your real name, no need to lie about it anymore.”

“Fine. My real name is Aster- but I prefer Natia.”

2: What does your full name mean?

“Well Aster means star and Natia means light, which is why I chose it.”

“Ever the romantic. Lindsey means from an island, which is appropriate I guess but I think my parents were trying to pick the least elven name possible.”

“I like your name. Davy means beloved.”

“Lauren is vaguely based off of a tree, Laurel.”

“Not surprising for a fairy. Hector means to hold fast.”

3: What are your other names/nicknames

“Most of us respond to ‘that asshole’.” Lindsey leaned back in his chair. “I call Davy my vhenan.“

“You have literally never called me that.”

“Maybe I should start. It means ‘my heart’ in elven.”

“No offense,” Lauren cut in, “But you two are about as far away from elven as I have ever seen.”

4: What’s your gender?

Everyone glanced at each other. Hector, Lindsey, and Davy were all men, built like the soldiers they were. Natia was lithe and strong like the assassin and hunter she was, but she still took hold of her own femininity. Lauren, ever the academic, was softer and had the gentler curves of someone who didn’t spend her life training and fighting with weapons. 

5: What’s your sexuality?

“In case you didn’t pick it up, I am Not Straight (TM). Men, women, elf, dwarf, fairy, human, nymph- but I’m taken.” Lindsey said, casting a soft look to Davy.

“I’m gay.” 

“I’ve never been interested in romance or sex. What the word for it? Asexual?Aromantic?  Yeah, those are me.” Lauren offered up, somewhat satisfied that she finally got to say it.

“I’m straight.” Natia said, followed by Hector’s “Me too.”

6: Where are you from?

“I’m from the Highlands, just East of Provda and Ebarria. I’m here to study human and dwarven magical practices.” Lauren perked up before quieting herself and rambling. 

“I’m from Ilseburry up north. It’s much better here in Provda.” Lindsey said.

“Natia and I are half-Provdan half-Ebarrian.” Hector offrered. 

“But you grew up in Provda and I grew up in Ebarria. They are very different places.”

“I’m also half Provdan- my mother was an elf from the Highlands, but I’ve never been there.” Davy added.

7: How old are you?

“Go ahead Lauren. Tell them hold old you are.” Natia smirked, heat rising to the fairy’s face. 

“Fairies mature slower than humans or elves. Just because I’m in my forties-”

“Really? I thought I was the oldest one at 28.” Davy signed in relief. Lindsey smirked.

“I’m 27.”

“I’m 25.” Hector said, eyes turning to Natia again, who had sunken down in her chair. 

“I didn’t realize how old all of you were.” She muttered. “I’m only 23.”

“So Lauren, how’s the baby-sitting going?”

“I’m going to outlive all you humans and elves.”

8: What is your magic form/what species are you?

“Well, I’m a fairy with a natural affinity for magic.” Lauren restated.

“I’m elven. But not a stuffy, traditional, better-than-you elf. ” Lindsey’s pointed ears twitched.

“I’m half elven. The worst kind of elven apparently.” Davy commented, a slight bitter tone tracing his words.

“Better than us humans.” Natia offered, her own tone lighter and more playful as she glanced at Hector.

9: What does your human form look like?

“I take offense at that.” Lauren joked, her long brown hair curled over her shoulder, green eyes practically sparkling with humor.

Lindsey also snorted, his own blue eyes rolling at the question. Above his brow his straight blonde hair was slicked back as he ran a hand over it, stretching out in the chair. Davy sat still beside him, brown eyes and curly brown hair speaking for themselves, his slightly pointed nose giving him an impish, elvish effect, the tips of his smaller pointed ears just visible through the curls. 

Hector also leaned back in his chair, his longer black hair curling around his neck, his deeply tanned skin and dark brown eyes speaking for themselves. Natia’s skin was darker, her long dark brown hair pulled back in a braid and lighter brown eyes watching me with an exasperated face that said, “Move on to the next questions already.”

10: What’s your aesthetic?

Natia fingered her daggers, exquisitely crafted from silver and decorated with obsidian, heavily enchanted and small diamonds inlaid to represent the gods she worshiped. 

“Beaches with gold sand and dark blue water. We didn’t have beaches like that in Ilseburry.” Lindsey said wistfully, longing to be there instead of answering more questions. 

“The forests at sunset, the dark green and golden pink skies.” Davy added quietly. 

“I miss the flowers that grew in the Highlands, with blue petals and pink centers. They were really pretty.” Lauren picked at her dress of the same colors. 

“I like when night turns into a red daybreak before a storm.” Hector said, giving no other explanation.

11: Who’s your best friend?

“Lindsey,”

“Davy,”

The two of them said together, Hector poutning. He wasn’t sure what he expected from them but he muttered, “Davy and Lindsey,” anyway, sad still that they were his best friends but he wasn’t theirs.

“My brother Zach.” Lauren said.

“...” Natia hestiated. “Probably Hector.”

The group glanced at each other and then at me, indicating that it was time to move and make a sharp change of subject.

12: Would you ever get a piercing/ tattoo?

“I’ve got a few piercings.” Natia indicated to her ears with several studs placed up an down her ears. “I was never into tattoos.”

“I’ve got a tattoo of my parents names in respect for them.” Hector indicated to his forearm where the two names were inked.

“I always thought it would be sexy if-” Lindsey started, but Davy cut him off.

“No. I said I wouldn’t do that.” Blood rushed to Davy’s face and ears. 

13: When are you happiest?

“In the tavern with my friends.” Hector was the first to speak up.

“With Lindsey, after getting back from a hunt or scouting mission and just getting to eat or fall asleep together.” Lindsey looked at Davy again with soft eyes, nodding.

“When I finally perfect a spell or potion or enchantment, seeing my effort turn into something.” Lauren continued. 

“I don’t feel like answering this question.” The others gave Natia a look. “Fine, bickering with you all, you assholes.”

They awed. 

“The baby enjoys our company.”

14: What’s your biggest secret?

Everyone looked to Natia. 

“I mean, it's not a secret anymore.” She started, sighing. “I was part of a group of assassins and my kill count is somewhere in the hundreds. I ran away, changed my name, and lied to everyone about it for two years. Anyone else got a secret?”

“My parents were killed by said assassins.” Hector said darkly. 

“This is supposed to be a light-hearted interview not couples therapy. My biggest secret is that my father was King of Ilseburry.”

“You’re just now mentioning this?!” Davy gasped, a grin breaking across Lindsey’s face.

“No, I’m just a notorious trickster. Davy’s secret is that he gets very cranky when his socks get wet.”

“It’s an unpleasant feeling!”

“Back in the Highlands, I’m actually considered to not be very pretty according to fairy standards. I’ve never told anyone that.” Lauren casually dropped, the others once again glancing to each other. Somehow that seemed unbelievable but no one knew enough about fairies to object.

15: What was your first impression of your S/O?

“What a giant dork.” Davy muttered, earning a laugh from everyone but Lindsey, who looked away, slightly embarrassed. “He was trying to flirt with me and tripped over a tree root, falling face first into thistle bush.”

“Thanks, babe. Here I was going to say you were the exact image of what I thought an elf should be- graceful, good looking, and into nature shit, if not just a little short. Are we done here yet? We have people to kill now.”

Lindsey didn’t wait before getting up and leaving the room, Davy and Hector following after him, Lauren profusely apologizing as she left, closing the door behind her.

I started gathering my notes before- hey? Where did Natia go?

“Don’t move.” I heard the voice after I felt the press of a cool blade against my neck, Natia grabbing my hair to hold my head back and expose my neck better. 

“This is a warning. You better finish this damn WIP and you better give them a good ending. If not I’ll reach through the computer screen and give you the worst writer’s block you’ve ever experienced.”

In an instant the knife was gone and I sucked in air, breathing heavy before turning around, Natia just gone.

I, uh, I’ve got work to do.

I’ll tag @weathershade, @crypticsx, @emdop, @milkyway-writes if any of you feel like doing one of these!

[davidjjohnston3]

I am mad at my biological father... People in Milwaukee have strong spirits but they don't test or discern from whence these spirits come (Satan); they have a kind of 'anti-a'ga'pe' that wants to send people to Hell.  I finally got fed up and started cursing or at least confuting in my head and heart, wishing there would be terrorized for messing with me / my soul.  I want them to be chastened.  In what universe is it OK to antagonize someone's soul rather than build them up / edify?  It's Babylon America: commerce is king, pornography is the supreme teacher(?), media is religion, movie-theaters are temples.  All this time my 'father-in-law' was trying to teach me the American way of lying to the civil authority and medical professionals... A while back I took stock of 'our' old family home and realized in some ways my biological parents are not that bad.  I told my biological father as much and he got even more mad / contemptuous of me. Do I not assess the man properly? Reddit got mad at me for saying 'social form' and some Christian on Twitter tried to 'nope(?!..=|)' me for saying I prayed Sec. Pompeo will be President.  'No room in the Kingdom for phony Christians.'  What's phony about defending the faith worldwide?   Paul Washer of HeartCry Ministries extols the authority of the African father and the son kneeling before him but Caucasian American dad-son relationships are not that way in my experience.  Once I bowed to my dad but it didn't mean much.  Once he bowed to me after my (near)-suicide-attempt in Korea and that did mean.. Anti-racism seemed like an important concept to me but then I thought there are so many people who just wanna get stuff and if I met Ibrim X. Kendi in real life he's probably be cordial enough but not hesitate to unlease looters and rioters against me for his vision of the greater good not to say communist-disintegrationist-chaoticist utopia.   Everyone in Milwaukee seemed to be mad at me a while back since the story of me in Korea at the high school was not 100% storybook.  'Oh David James Johnston he fell in love with his 16-17-year-old student, but realized they are being left behind or the Korean War is really terrible and they're all in danger up there then some things happened with the faculty and he tried to kill himself.'  That is not totally inaccurate but I wasn't 100% the depressive melancholy young prince over the last 9 years.  I had some ambitions and I studied a lot and I also had bad habits like smoking. I got a short-sleeved white polo shirt at the department store and lost a bit more weight.  I am around 5'11 165 I would guess.  I really have to make sense of my cardiac condition although hopefully it was acute / idiopathic from the Pfizer vaccine.  What scares me is that I had a foreaugury or prophecy(?) of it in 2016 when I felt something like a powdery liquid running down behind my breastbone at the same time as when I was walking around Lake Park in terror of Koreans from the past coming to kill me, angel soldiers, 'the stars throwing down their tears,' the tiger of wrath, and also, feeling like God was feeding me something without having to eat. I still haven't read all of Blake's 'America: A Prophecy.'

* The psychiatrist whom I respect offered or 'ordered' me Prozac last week and it made me think.  I feel almost like the Boomers saw Millennial children as having no souls.  My parents wanted to send me to Hell.  My mother always used to speak about 'Rosemary's Baby' and when I was young I ran around with a red cape in a strawberry patch.  My mother told me this when I was in the mental hospital in 2013, afraid of the color red and not wanting to tear my chicken sandwich since I thought that it was metonymic(?) for tearing the Scripture rather than swallowing / appreciating it whole.   'We Boomers worked hard, stopped the ['totally causeless not trying to help anyone'] Vietnam War, Civil Rights, moreover weathered the traumas of JFK, MLK, RFK assassinations; ergo we earned the right to treat our daughters as sex-slaves and fire out our sons in order the better to take advantage of our neighbors' daughters whilst also amusing ourselves by medicating and psychologizing our kids rather than loving them and tending / nurturing / ministering to their souls.'   I didn't take the Prozac but I did think of (Ms. / Artist / [Singer]) Kim Taeyeon - 'Love in Color' is my favorite song of hers which makes me think about abortion-culture in a way and how 'too many choices' can destroy or over-modulate the distance or scuff and wear down the love in a relationship - and bipolar disorder.  I was diagnosed with bipolar in 2012 and suffered manic symptoms for most of my childhood.  I felt in the hospital that one possible 'aetiology' or origin / backstory of bipolar is knowing that people out there want to kill you; or even, damn your soul to perdition / Hell / everlasting eternal conscious torment for displeasing them or going against their norms / expectations. My diagnosis was later jacked up to schizoaffective / bipolar schizoaffective, then nearly 'crossed the ionosphere' into schizophrenia, and is now back to schizoaffective thanks to the wonderful, integrity- and probity-filled psychiatrist, who was also the only person telling the truth and not being a corporatist tank-driving-vehicular-manslaughterer at my commitment hearing where Father in Law lied to a district judge and the justice system treated me like a second-class system.  The ONLY person whose yes was yes and no was no. I still think sometimes about 'the condition of fiction.'  I wish I could develop my more scholarly ideals sometimes rather than writing in this 'free' style as I don't really like freedom I like formality and rules. I miss [].  I used to see so many colors and I saw this person in my mind's eye / Spirit when I met her online; but yesterday I felt like I just saw 'dark red.'

*

My brother is really rich (from Data Science)... I need to mend fences with him... I feel as if over the years I might've had mixed motives in 'taking him under my wing.'  We had a bad relationship when I was young and I even stole money from him a couple of times.  I also tried to catch him looking at pornography online rather than rebuke or chastise or plead with him not to, for courting death and failure.  I just wanted to embarrass / shame him. I helped him get a job shortly after the Great Recession and I guess some part of me falsely believed he owed me a favor for that. I sent him many books over the years. After my initial diagnosis of a possibly disabling mental disorder my mother told me he had said that I could live with him if I needed help but that no longer seems a possibility - in fact he said, 'I never said that.'  I was worried since I'm weak.  Hopefully God willing I can get back to where I was a couple of months ago and actually execute sth like the description of the educational administrative job that I was offered. I came to a point in my life lately where I no longer know whether something is destiny.  When I took the HS job in Korea - maybe the biggest decision of my life - I was confident.  But in the last couple of months has been a tempest or fog of war or I simply made so many decisions I don't recognize myself completely.   I want to work on 'Leaving Babylon' or 'Leaving Milwaukee' or 'Leaving America.'  There are or seem to be good Christians in Milwaukee but why live in Babylon - commercial empire worshipping all kinds of false prophetesses, porneia, objects, death, child-rape, abortion, post-partum abortion, automobiles, meals, brands, money / Mammon and other 'stuff' Pastor Timothy Keller calls 'Counterfeit Gods' (to say too little since they're actually often demons from Hell)... I'm not sure how to write it without penning distracting trash that would give wannabe writers bad habits and make naive readers think they know more than they do. My net worth is about 2,000 dollars but I want to give it away just because I'm mad.  I thought about selling my Lenovo X-1 laptop since it's Chinese Communist poison / curse, I know it's hacked by Huawei or whoever through a nano(?)chip, Father in Law tracks with AI... I heard the new Samsung smaller notebooks have around a 17-hour battery-life.

Milwaukee's Child Protective Services appear to be some kind of CCP-derived 'metaphor-joke.'  Amber Alert a child has been kidnapped in either a silver Kia or a Chevy Impala.  You can mount a plate-reading AI-camera on a 50-dollar drone easily...

I'm applying to a job in Korea.  I have no idea if I'll get in.  It is in my favorite neighborhood, and I liked the video of their staff. This would be a 'redemption-arc' for me.  'I am so exciting.'   I don't know if it can be. I listened to a few minutes of 'Inferno' by C. Cho.  Masterpiece.   Did I ever pay dues like a BigLaw junior associate?  Was I ever fast-tracked?   Career-decisions are difficult.  I have literal rejection-demons, I think, or uncertainty-demons.  Maybe it is Belial himself: sensuality plus intellectual abnegation.  Like I want to pretend the Spirit isn't there.   Other people also suffer disappointment-demons, I feel.  Loss-demons.   Understanding others can be challenging, and the fun of it, moreover, is overrated for some people.  IDK if I can ever. And too, some people, once you understand them - when they realize you understand them - become shameless.  They get more seared-conscience than ever, like the only reason they were ever acting good was to save / maintain face.  'Buyaolian.'   In past I tried to be all things to all men but lately I ended up trying to be 'Chinese mistress' to someone in a bad way.  I had already tried 'Japanese daughter, daughter-in-a-box.'  I don't know why I don't try 'son' except it makes him fake more than usual, that I know of. I felt praised like a daughter when I got praised; although maybe it is just me. 'Hello Kitty is a girl,' Said the Sanrio person. I looked at our family cat Ariel the other day and thought, 'my adult daughter Yves from LOONA.'   He used to look like a manly lion, like Jesus even, the Lion of Judah. Cats are feminine. I would get a cat but I just want to teach and write. This cat seems at peace; he no longer overeats nor conversely is hyperthyroidal and thin / 'dried out.' I miss the cat Pukah from down the way, who was fat and 'crepitant' in her voice-sound.  I took care of her for pay and bought some Audiobooks with the 'loot' or 'lucre.'

I honestly have a theory about Koreanness I don't like to share called 'Han Death Runes' that says some people see Koreans - women and girls - and just want to rape and beat and kill them.  They just do.  Japanese soldiers / officers / the entire government did.  Doubtless Chinese did before that.  Korean men did too.  Caucasian men do now.  Other people look at babies and want to kill them - not a joke, empirical Science has recorded it; Saint Augustine some 1600 years ago developed the category of Original Sin.

For a time I was convinced that ShowerThoughts on Tumblr was the Korean girl whom I attempted to save from attempted sex-trafficking by implying she should work hard in tenth grade and learn about [AI, IT]... 

I am interested in helping orphans and other young people; today in lieu of the Lead Teacher offer I missed out on I applied to some Assistant jobs at Christian private and charter schools and was impressed with the humaneness of the management-questions on the online hiring-assessment.  Nonetheless, ‘Blessed Are the Peacemakers,’ and the world will need I think / believe for somebody to prove that it is possible to take care of young people who don’t have good parents such as through a better orphanage-system someday.  At least, this is kind of what I dream and daydream about.  I think Saint Paul would talk more about older women helping younger women to be good mothers, however, or ‘teaching’ them, whatever that means.  

The pro-life cause as this political cartoon long ago pointed out is supposed to be in favor of life far beyond the emergence in to this world as a defenseless eight-pound baby.  

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I feel lately as if I ‘waged a war for peace’ and ended up as the only casualty.  I don’t mean to aggrandize myself.  I strengthened my enemies and all I got out of it was a clarified love.  I hope / wish that this constitutes suffering and not just punishment before Moses for being a bad teacher with abominable taste in student clientele, and also forget to send off graduates with a graceful hail and blessing, maybe a final exhortation and prayer, and let them be they.