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nyc-uws · 1 year ago

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Read a (Love) Letter From Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne

There has been much speculation about this friendship.

Literary Hub Emily Temple

In 1850, Ticknor, Reed & Fields published The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s classic novel of repentance and slut-shaming. But this isn’t about The Scarlet Letter—it’s about one of the most fascinating friendships in literature. Because whenever I think of Nathaniel Hawthorne, I can’t help but think of Herman Melville.

Hawthorne and Melville met in 1850, and though Hawthorne was fifteen years older, and the two very different (Melville bombastic and highly emotional, Hawthorne much more reserved) the two hit it off right away. Soon afterwards, Melville published a very complimentary review of Hawthorne’s Mosses from an Old Manse, and the writers began an intense friendship that would last about two years before unexpectedly dissolving. There has been much speculation about this friendship, of course, and whether it may have been something more. As Jordan Alexander Stein put in in LARB, “All we are left with are representations of Melville’s feelings, tantalizingly expressed without being particularly easy to pinpoint. Melville wrote of Hawthorne with undeniably sexy language. What proves more elusive are the feelings to which, with any precision, this language can be said to refer.”

For instance, in that aforementioned review, Melville writes: “[A]lready I feel that this Hawthorne has dropped germinous seeds into my soul. He expands and deepens down, the more I contemplate him; and further, and further, shoots his strong New England roots into the hot soil of my Southern soul.” Which sounds like, well, you know.

But one of the best examples of this is the wildly flirtatious, possibly scandalous (magnets indeed), letter below. After Hawthorne read Moby-Dick—which was dedicated to him—he sent Melville a letter. That letter has not survived (nor any of Hawthorne’s letters to Melville—which begs the question: why did Melville destroy these?, but anyway), but Melville’s response, written in November of 1851, suggests that his friend rather liked his novel. So is it a love letter? Even if they were never more than friends, I’d have to say yes. I mean, “Knowing you persuades me more than the Bible of our immortality,” and “I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces”? Damn. Romantic or not, that’s some passionate correspondence.

Pittsfield, Monday afternoon.

My Dear Hawthorne:

People think that if a man has undergone any hardship, he should have a reward; but for my part, if I have done the hardest possible day’s work, and then come to sit down in a corner and eat my supper comfortably—why, then I don’t think I deserve any reward for my hard day’s work—for am I not now at peace? Is not my supper good? My peace and my supper are my reward, my dear Hawthorne. So your joy-giving and exultation-breeding letter is not my reward for my ditcher’s work with that book, but is the good goddess’s bonus over and above what was stipulated—for for not one man in five cycles, who is wise, will expect appreciative recognition from his fellows, or any one of them. Appreciation! Recognition! Is love appreciated? Why, ever since Adam, who has got to the meaning of this great allegory—the world? Then we pygmies must be content to have our paper allegories but ill comprehended. I say your appreciation is my glorious gratuity. In my proud, humble way,—a shepherd-king,—I was lord of a little vale in the solitary Crimea; but you have now given me the crown of India. But on trying it on my head, I found it fell down on my ears, notwithstanding their asinine length—for it’s only such ears that sustain such crowns.

Your letter was handed me last night on the road going to Mr. Morewood’s, and I read it there. Had I been at home, I would have sat down at once and answered it. In me divine maganimities are spontaneous and instantaneous—catch them while you can. The world goes round, and the other side comes up. So now I can’t write what I felt. But I felt pantheistic then—your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s. A sense of unspeakable security is in me this moment, on account of your having understood the book. I have written a wicked book, and feel spotless as the lamb. Ineffable socialities are in me. I would sit down and dine with you and all the gods in old Rome’s Pantheon. It is a strange feeling—no hopefulness is in it, no despair. Content—that is it; and irresponsibility; but without licentious inclination. I speak now of my profoundest sense of being, not of an incidental feeling.

Whence come you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips—lo, they are yours and not mine. I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces. Hence this infinite fraternity of feeling. Now, sympathizing with the paper, my angel turns over another page. you did not care a penny for the book. But, now and then as you read, you understood the pervading thought that impelled the book—and that you praised. Was it not so? You were archangel enough to despise the imperfect body, and embrace the soul. Once you hugged the ugly Socrates because you saw the flame in the mouth, and heard the rushing of the demon,—the familiar,—and recognized the sound; for you have heard it in your own solitudes.

My dear Hawthorne, the atmospheric skepticisms steal into me now, and make me doubtful of my sanity in writing you thus. But, believe me, I am not mad, most noble Festus! But truth is ever incoherent, and when the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning. Farewell. Don’t write a word about the book. That would be robbing me of my miserly delight. I am heartily sorry I ever wrote anything about you—it was paltry. Lord, when shall we be done growing? As long as we have anything more to do, we have done nothing. So,now, let us add Moby Dick to our blessing, and step from that. Leviathan is not the biggest fish;—I have heard if Krakens.

This is a long letter, but you are not at all bound to answer it. Possibly, if you do answer it, and direct it to Herman Melville, you will missend it—for the very fingers that now guide this pen are not precisely the same that just took it up and put it on this paper. Lord, when shall we be done changing? Ah! it’s a long stage, and no inn in sight, and night coming, and the body cold. But with you for a passenger, I am content and can be happy. I shall leave the world, I feel, with more satisfaction for having come to know you. Knowing you persuades me more than the Bible of our immortality.

What a pity, that, for your plain, bluff letter, you should get such gibberish! Mention me to Mrs. Hawthorne and to the children, and so, good-by to you, with my blessing.

Herman.

P.S. I can’t stop yet. If the world was entirely made up of Magians, I’ll tell you what I should do. I should have a paper-mill established at one end of the house, and so have an endless riband of foolscap rolling in upon my desk; and upon that endless riband I should write a thousand—a million—billion thoughts, all under the form of a letter to you. The divine magnet is on you, and my magnet responds. Which is the biggest? A foolish question—they are One.

P.P.S. Don’t think that by writing me a letter, you shall always be bored with an immediate reply to it—and so keep both of us delving over a writing-desk eternally. No such thing! I sh’n’t always answer your letters, and you may do just as you please.

Emily Temple is the managing editor at Lit Hub. Her first novel, The Lightness, was published by William Morrow/HarperCollins in June 2020. You can buy it here.

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/read-a-love-letter-from-herman-melville-to-nathaniel-hawthorne?utm_source=pocket-newtab

#friendship #Love Letter #Letter

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iamcassian · 5 months ago

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yesyesyes!!

will probably end up never writing it because i'm lready working on my comic and that's punching me with writer's and artist's block at once and i hate it BUT i think it'd be fun

every post I see about the new Quotev update gives off the vibe of a fallen nation, who's once prospering citizens have now become refugees and are pushed out into the cold, wide world to fend for themselves

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pinuphead · 3 years ago

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Hee hee... some excerpts from fanfics I’ve been writing. First two are from the same fic, which is about Angelique and Elliott meeting during WW1 while he was still a human (it’s based on how Angelique and Pinhead interact as if they’ve met before, and how Pinhead talks about hell during Angelique’s time as if he’s been there). Last one is completely different and I have no idea when I’ll be able to post it lol it’s tangenitally related to my hellraiser OC storyline and is just straight up gay erotica most of the way through, but like it does fit specifically into the oc storyline so I kinda want to get some of the earlier story out first. Anyway thanks for your time mwah mwah kisses kisses lemme tag the gang @seeyouinyournightmares @shitfacing

Transcripts:

first: Angelique’s lips twisted into a cruel smile around her cigarette, the lit butt flaring like a church candle. “Besides, what’s your reward for holding yourself back?” she said conversationally, “What do you get if you pass this test you view life to be? This Heaven you cling to, what’s it like? If you behave yourself will God let you indulge in your desires? Or are you suppressing your yearnings for the purpose of suppressing them forever? Or perhaps God will reward you by taking away the desires he made you with? It hardly seems fair.” “Heaven is… a-a place of happiness.” Elliott explained but his explanation was half hearted. It was so strange. He could picture hell vividly, he had nightmares about running naked through hell fire as German soldiers chased him with bloody bayonets and the devil from his childhood bible illustrations watched. But Heaven? The house of god, the place he was supposed to desire more than anything? He couldn’t picture it. “A place where there’s no pain, no agony. No war and no sadness. Everyone is happy, and… and...”

Second: Elliott’s quivering fingers traced as best they could the tiny loops of metal like skeletal rosary beads as his lips mouthed the prayers he’d been taught. “Forgive us our trespasses,” he begged, “as we forgive those who trespass against us.” But as he remembered those lurching figures coming for him through the thick yellow fog he knew he would never forgive. “Forgive me.” he choked out, remembering the rows of bodies he’d left, the split open stomachs, how he’d ripped open gas masks and watched eagerly from behind his mask as the poor blokes choked on their own poison, then strode off into the putrid clouds to find more bodies to slash with his victims blood still dripping warm and salty down his bayonet, almost like semen from an erection. “Please forgive me… I’m so sorry…Dear God, I’m so sorry.”

third: Ray turned his head and realised a man had entered the church. He seemed to be middle aged, clean shaven and bald with a serious face and striking blue eyes that didn't change in colour even when he passed under the coloured shadows of the stained glass. He was dressed strangely, greenish brown trousers and a yellow shirt with a green tie. He carried a soldier's cap in his hands, turning it over like a pet only to hang it on the final pew bench's armrest. "Holy father." His voice was deep like thunder and honey. Something about it was compelling, gentle, yet it made the hairs stand on Ray's neck. Why hadn't he heard him come in? "I have come to make a confession." "Why certainly my child." Father Anthony replied pleasantly, "The lord's house exists to serve." The man slowly approached the altar and knelt before it, his head bent over in humility. There was something beautiful in the sight of a strong masculine body on bended knees, bent over into the submission men were so often denied. "Bless me Father for I have sinned."

#hellraiser #my writing #elliott spencer #I will probably change their titles later when they're finished and I know what'll fit them better #but for now the Angelique and Elliott fic is called Where Angels Fear to Tread #and the one where Elliott is gay and dramatic in a church is called Breaking the Bread #and DON'T @ ME ABOUT THE LACK OF VARIANCE IN SENTENCE LENGTH IA LREADY KNOWWW #I need to edit but I wanna finish first before I switch into editing brain mode #like rn there are too many details not enough action and the dialogue is stilted #but these are first drafts they will be better once finished lol

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venusaria · 5 years ago

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I think I’ve accepted the fact after 6 years I can’t draw for shit so I’m gonna practice writing

I’m also bored af so send me dgm fanfic ideas to write plz feed my boredom

#dgm #rambles #honeslty #i wanna write but i have no ideas to write #so just send me ideas #my writing sucks donkey ass #but i wanna try ya know #i think ill make a arciveofourown account #i lready have one #but ill just make a new one for this account

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meistoshia · 5 years ago

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he’s just so GOOD & so PASSIONATE about just the PROSPECT of new things just meeting new people meeting new pokemon seeing new sights going on new adventures god i am not joking when i say i started crying while writing this caption i just love him so m cuh what th efuck

#HES SO G OO D #I LOVE HIMSOMUHC HES JUST T HE ABSO LUTE LIGHT OF MY L IFE #HE IS SU CHA COMFORT CHARA TO ME YOU DONT UNDERS TAND HE IS LITEARLLY L IGHT OK #I THINK ABT HIM & JUST GO :")#MY DAY??????????? BRI GHT #WHy????????#BITC H L O OKAT HIM #HES SUN SHINE PE RSONIF IED #G OD #I WISH I COULD TYPE IN BIGGER CAPS THANIM A LREADY WRITING IN WHTF #* !! pkmn is autistic culture.#rewatch.

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sereinegemini · 3 years ago

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🎃 dialogue // send me a character and a scenario and i’ll write a little bit for it (2/5 available)

Theo nott, first kiss?

author’s note: somewhat inspired by this — (351 words)

The smell of Butterbeer washed over you before the chilly autumn wind carried his breath away, rustling his dark locks. “‘re you listenin’ to me?”

You focused on him again, offering an innocent smile, “‘Course.”

“‘nd somehow I don’t believe that.” he smirked, tilting his head to study you—a habit that’d always had the ability to make your heart race.

You feigned insult, “I can’t believe you think so lowly of me, Theo. ‘Course I was listening, you ‘ere goin’ on ‘bout me joking during such a serious moment.”

As if he suddenly remembered said moment, he shook his head in disbelief, “I was in the middle of confessin’ to you and you made fun of how serious I was being.”

“I got nervous!” you defended, “‘sides, you don’t need to confess. We both know how the other feels ‘nd we’re ‘lready sorta something.”

“‘nd what‘re we, F/n?” he asked, as if making a point.

“There you go bein’ serious again.”

“F/n.” he begged, his eyes unwavering as he looked into yours.

You sighed, glancing at your feet before looking up at him once more, “We’re us.”

“What does that mean, F/n?” he breathed shakily, running his fingers through his hair, “Is this all we��ll ever be? Or will there be more? Because us to me is together. Us means I can hold you and kiss you. Us means my heart no longer has to ache for yours because you’re mine. We would be a brilliant us. What is us to you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words, “Exactly that. I’ve never once thought we needed to talk about these things, Theo. Because in my mind there was never a question of whether or not they would happen.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you or not?” he grumbled, and you had to hold in a chuckle at his impatience.

“Yes, Theo.” you whispered, and he wasted no time in filling the space between you, lightly cupping your face in his hands and connecting your lips.

And there it was again: the sweet smell of Butterbeer.

abby’s 700 sleepover

#vaish 🤍#abby’s 700 sleepover 🤍#abby’s asks #dialogue #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter dialogue #theo nott dialogue

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wonderwomanfantasy · 4 years ago

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Favorate smell

writing for Betas is so fun

Alpha!Kirishima x Beta!Reader

warnings: smut, dirty talk, ABO things

word count: 1,000 (about)

summary: You buy perfume so kirishima can smell you better but Kiri already knows you smell great.

“Does it ever bug you that I’m a beta?” you asked one night while you were curled up on Kirishima’s chest. He looked down at you and squeezed you, poking your cheek

“Is that bothering you again?” he asked you wriggled away from his prodding finger and burrowed deeper into his chest.

“No-”

“No,” he mimicked.

“It’s just, I don’t know I feel like all alphas talk about how much they love their mate’s sent and how it calms them down and we just don’t have that,” you mumbled quietly. Kirishima hummed.

“Never really thought about it,” he said shrugging.

“Seeing you makes me feel better and helps calm me down, I don’t need to smell you,” He declared, soothing your worries. Of all the times you’d been insecure about your status as an beata this was maybe one of the sillyer things.

“But what about scenting? Don’t you want stuff that smells like me for when you fo into rut?” you pressed. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. Suddenly, kirishima flipped you pinning you to the bed.

“The only thing I want during my ruts is you,” he purred his red eyes flashing with hummor. Erijou tilted his head to the side and kissed yout neck, scrapping the skin with his sharp teeth. You gasped, your hand flying to his shoulders. He growled in aproval at the small noise that you had made.

You knew that he was doing this to help comoft you, and to get your mind off of it, but having him so close only amplified his scent and made you think of it even more.

“If you’d like, we can go shopping tomorrow, and buy you some fancy perfume for you so you can scent me,” he offered.

“I’d like that,” you said instantly. And he went back to kissing your neck, humming happily.

It quickly became clear that Kirishima didn’t have the nose for perfumes. Half of them made him sneeze and the other half just didn’t sit right with either of you.

“I didn’t think this would be so tricky,” Erijou said rubbing his nose and trying not to sneeze again.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you sighed, dejected.

Kirishima hadn’t really cared about this whole endevour before heading out. Like he had said the night before, he had never given much thought to your scent, or lack there of. But seeing you look so upset was a step too far for him. His alpha refused to let his mate stay unhappy.

“Nope, we’re not giving up yet,” he decided. “Just because perfume didn’t work out doesn’t mean nothing will, theres like body spray stuff right? Lets check that out,” he said looping his arm through yours and dragging you out to a different section of the store.

You had much better luck with the body sprays eventually. Finding one to settle on. Strawberry pound cake.

“I like this one,” Kirishima said nussling your neck. “Let’s take it home and then you can scent me, yeah?” he teased making you flush. You still had marks from last night you couldn’t belivie he was trying to get in your pants again

“We’re in public you horn dog,” you chided. Kirishima’s arms circled your waist and he rested his chin on top of your head.

“Can you blame me? I’ve got this pretty little Beta all to myself of course I’m excited,” he teased.

Kirishima had already set aside some shirts for you to scent, and he practically threw the clothes at you as soon as you got back to his room.

“There, now I smell like you and everyone will know we’re together,” he said. Kissing your cheek playfully. His scent overwhelmed you while he pulled you close to his body, but this time it’s mixed with the scent of your own fragrance. Vanilla and sandalwood mixed with strawberry and sugar.

Then he’s kissing your neck again as his hands wander over your body. “Erijou,” you say as a warning and you swear you hear him whimper.

“Baby, I need you, I want to make my bed smell like you, pretty please?” he asked pouting. You sighed his rut must be getting close or something. Not that you really minded, you could lready feel warmth beginning to spread in your belly.

“Okay Alpha, make me feel good,” you sighed, tightening your body readying to get pounced on. Kirishima did not disappoint, the title always awoke something inside of you, the red head tossed you down on the bed pouncing on you and ripping your clothes off your body.

He growled lowly, looking down at your naked body. “You do have smell you know,” he said pushing your thighs apart and running his nails down your legs. His eyes locked on your exposed cunt.

“Right here,” he purred tapping your clit with one finger making you jolt.

“I can fucken smell it everytime this sluttly little cunt gets wet you know that?” he teased bringing your legs up over his shoulder and bringing his face close to your core.

You squeaked and impulisivly, you reched down to stop him making him growl.

“I’m sorry who’s pussy is this?” he snapped as you retracted your hands.

“I-It’s alpha’s pussy,” you replied meakly.

“That’s fucking right,” he said to himself lightly blowing on your wet folds making you shiver before he inhaled deeply through his nose, apparently smelling your arousal.

“Better than any fucking perfume,” he purred lowly, before lowering his head and devoring you, his lips suctionsing around your cunt while his tounge fell against your clit, trashing enough to make you scream.

This time you couldn’t stop your hands from flying to his head, quickly getting lost in his spikey red hair. Uselessly you tugged at his head trying to move him but Kirishima staid routed firmly against your sex. Only his groans let you know he even felt your hands.

“You’re a pretty little girl,” Kirishima purred pulling away from your pussy with a wet pop and replacing his mouth with hhis fingers.

“ ya’ smell good too,”

#Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima smut #kirishima imagine #kirishima x reader smut #alpha kirishima #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero acadamy #my hero academia head cannon #my hero academia abo

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imaginesofeverykind · 4 years ago

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Snowed In || Joel Miller x F!Reader

(Its ironic because this smut is 6k words so it didn’t do that quickly AT ALL LMAOOOO) This took me too many fucking days to write, its so hard to get into smut mentality like holy fucq

YALL I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT HOLY SHIT

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Request: Can I request some Joel Miller fluff (mayyyybe some smut?) I could totally see getting snowed in with him 😏🥰

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: S M U T and S W E A R I N G annndd implied age gap but its not stated (reader is probs like thirties or older) AND you guys being the biggest pain in the ass for Joel :)

Also @ me stanning how yall interract with each other because the banter is highkey lowkey fun lmaoooo

“Ah, shit!” You cursed loudly, your feet stampeding desperately in thick snow while increasingly aware of the group of hunters — that managed to get the jump on you — were probably still tailing you. Your hands clamped down harshly on the wound you bled profusely from, droplets of crimson blood stained the snow with each step.

“Joel!” You shouted in desperation, approaching the lookout as you internally prepared yourself for getting blasted by the old man for being reckless — or better yet, leading the hunters to the lookout. You didn’t want to linger to long on those thoughts, not while you quite literally had an arrow protruding out of your side.

It wasn’t the first time you’d inconsequently been impaled by something or other, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. You had at least hoped that the impending snowstorm worsened and covered your blood trail quicker than you were making pace.

Breathlessly, you lean against the lookouts outer walls, scanning the area for potential hunters. Luckily for you the progressively heavier snowfall deterred any prospect of human threats. You rap hard and heavy on the metal reinforced door, holding onto your side as a wince escapes your lips.

“Joel! For fucks sake… Open the damn door!” You gritted, the bite of the cold air finally hitting the wound you so desperately tried to keep covered. It was incredibly clear that the older man was tactful and cautious, having been on plenty of runs, watches and patrols with him opened you up to his reserved nature.

However, it was getting ridiculous considering the urgency in your voice that now of all times, he decided to cautiously approach.

The door was pulled open, after a succession of noises that were no doubt the barricades being moved. Joel poked his head out, looking around before settling on your hunched figure, “what the hell did you do this time?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him as you yearned for the warmth and safety of the lookout, “I’m great — thanks for askin’.” You stumble over to what was once most likely a bar, the remnants of liquor bottles and on tap beer seemed to be a good indicator of that.

Readjusting the barricade, Joel finally makes his way over to you. Concern wasn’t a typical expression he showed to anyone other than toward Ellie, seeing it flicker across his face as he approached you nearly knocked you off the stool you sat on. It was brief but you absolutely noticed it.

“You mind fillin’ me in on what happened out there?” His brow was raised as he gestured to your wound. He was taking his time to gather the gauze and alcohol to patch you up, but he was acutely aware that if it was something to panic about he’d be much quicker.

Joel had known you for a while, in the time you two spent together on patrols he knew that if anyone could handle an arrow through the torso it was most definitely you. He admired your grit — although he’d never admit it, you were one of the only people whose company he enjoyed.

“Pissed off some fuckin’ Hunters… Don't think they liked me killin’ one of their buddies,” your words staggered with intermittent shallow breaths. You eyed your companion as he almost deliberately slowly made his way in front of you with the appropriate supplies needed to patch you up.

His hardened personal walls had attracted you like a moth drawn to a flame, from your first meeting to now, you had been determined to understand the mysterious man who just so happened to also be your neighbour. “Old age really must be gettin’ to you old man — leave me to just bleed out why don’t ya?”

“If it was serious I’m sure you’d be dead ‘lready.” He retorted, unphased by your not so subtle jab at him. And there it was. That little playful glint in his eyes that you’d only witnessed a handful of times prior, it proved to you that he wasn’t completely closed off and coarsened by the shitshow life turned out to be for him.

You scoff at him, a smirk grazing your lips as you make good use of the whiskey beside you, “well ain’t I lucky to be accompanied by someone so concerned about my life,” you took a swig of the bottle, hoping that the smooth liquor would ease the pain permeating from your side.

He chuckled at the harshness in your voice, “concerned? That’s a funny way of puttin’ it… C’mon by the fire I need a better look at this.”

Looking back at him stunned, you pulled a face that was somewhere between shock and delight, “did I just get two jokes from Joel Miller? In succession? You get bit or somethin’ while I was gone?” You eased yourself off the stool and slowly staggered toward the fire, obliging Joel’s request.

You propped yourself up against one of the weathered armchairs, time had not been kind to the piece of furniture as seen by the cracked leather and copious amount of stains. Before getting too comfortable, you shrugged off the outer layers of jackets you typically adorned to protect yourself from the harsh winters around Wyoming.

The flannel you had over top of the long sleeved thermal shirt you wore was unluckily pinned to your side by the arrow, it used to be a dark blue with green accents — now it was almost black with the pooling blood soaking into the fibers.

Joel was looking at you in thought, memories resurfacing of Colorado and reliving his own time having been impaled due to Hunters. Although the arrow stuck inside you was practically a small scratch in comparison to the metal rebar he intimately came to know.

“Starin’ won’t get this arrow outta me, Joel.” You huffed, taking things into your own hands as you pull off one of your gloves, “here —.” you stuffed it between your teeth and gripped onto the arrow tightly before pulling it out. Your muffled cries of pain had thankfully been mostly silenced by the glove.

“Jesus christ, what in the hell are you doin’?” Joel kneeled down by your side.

“Fast trackin’ the healing process — not… so great… of an idea…” You mumbled out breathlessly, your shaky hands completely covered in blood. Your bright idea of taking things into your own hands backfiring, as you grew progressively light-headed.

Now Joel was slightly panicked and annoyed that your recklessness and impatience always seemed to get in the way of his own brooding and thoughtfulness. “Do you even think before you do things? I ain’t here to babysit you goddammit.” He grumbled, wiping away at the wound so he could inspect it.

You airily laughed, feeling tired and exhausted, “babysit? I’m the only person who’ll deal with your bullshit on patrols, cowboy.” Your limbs started to feel incredibly light and numb as your words became more slurred.

You weren’t wrong in that aspect, but what you weren’t aware of was the fact that you were most often paired with Joel on patrols because the man had asked for it, not because of the excuse Tommy told you; ‘everyone has a hard time with him except for you’.

His nimble hands made quick work at the suture needle and stitching, you only wincing when the needle pierces through your broken skin. He was careful and calculated while he patched you up, grateful that you had been quiet for just a few moments as he paid your back the same amount of care for the front.

By the time he had finished, you had long drifted off in a sleep. He was regimented in making sure you were breathing consistently and every fifteen minutes or so, he would wake you up to ensure you weren’t going to die on him.

After two hours of nothing out of the ordinary coming from your peaceful state, he let you rest peacefully undisturbed.

———————————————

When you woke up, you weren’t too sure what to expect. Pain was one thing you anticipated… And the pain didn’t disappoint. Perhaps it was because you woke up in a completely different position and place within the lookout than when you fell asleep. No longer by the fire downstairs, but in the makeshift bedroom loft beside a smaller fire.

The headache that thumped through your head was arguably the most painful feeling that was occurring in your body. But that didn’t stop you from slowly rising up, a hand instinctively placed over the wound as it twitched in pain. Sounds of distant guitar chords echoed through the open area, you hadn’t even taken notice that Joel brought his guitar when you two left Jackson earlier in the morning.

Not that you were really paying him much attention earlier in the morning, freely exploring your own mind and memories. Something Joel envied in you was your ability to be so free spirited, despite the apocalyptic fuck fest that was everyday life. He initially chalked you up to being naive and foolish, but the time he’s taken to get to know you had informed him otherwise.

You hesitantly remove the mound of blankets on you and start your attempt to get up. It was a struggle to say the least, your thumping headache and aching wound made it quite the difficult feat to pull off.

All effort aside, you finally carried yourself slowly down the stairs, nursing your wound and instantly missing the warmth that the fire at your bedside provided. By the dimly lit interior it was well and truly deep into the night, which made you wonder how long you’d been asleep for.

Judging by the stillness of the atmosphere, that also meant your earlier encounter with hunters didn’t attract unwanted attention to the lookout.

Joel was seated by the fire in an amicable state, he was seemingly unaware of the fact you’d woken up or even noticed you had seated yourself on the armchair closest to the fire. His eyes shifted toward the movement, surprised to see you had made your way down the stairs without so much as a voice of complaint.

“You sure you weren’t a country singer before this? I’m getting some Billy Ray vibes… Bitta Keith Urban too..” You smile at him, admiring the way the firelight bounced off his features, the scene before you looking like some cozy cottage fantasy.

He put his guitar aside, if he was amused by your joke — you didn’t see it.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to gauge his mood based off the evident shift that occurred between you falling asleep to now. He appeared to be annoyed (not surprising) and closed off more than usual, which meant that he was most definitely not in the mood to be talking.

But you didn’t care, because you had just woken up and felt like enlightening Joel’s darkened front with some excitement at least. “What’s got you in such a delightful mood, country boy?” You shifted your weight off the wound, alleviating the slight pain that kept pinching every so often.

It became apparent that you weren’t going to leave him some peace unless he relented and indulged your attempts to getting him to talk. If he was stuck with anyone else in this situation he’d be visibly more perturbed, it was either dumb luck or fate that the two of you happened to be paired while this already shitty situation got worse.

“Storm came over while you were sleepin’... Get cozy ‘cause we’ll be here for a while.” He gestured lazily to one of the windows, which upon further inspection was completely shadowed from the snow fall, not because it was incredibly late.

You groaned, following up with a sigh, “fuck I’m bored just thinkin’ about bein’ stuck here… Wish I brought a book.” The throwaway statement managed to crack the hard exterior of Joel, earning the slightest chuckle which in turn boosted your ego. Getting that man to express emotions beyond anger or annoyance was something to be met with like a lifelong skill, high risk and low reward.

He reached over to his bag, “might not like it, but if it’ll keep you quiet for a while… here —,” he pulled out an old leather bound book, the spine had been cracked and the pages barely held together due to decades of weathering. You met his outstretched arm halfway to grab a hold of the book, the weight of it unexpected but you caught it nonetheless.

“Lovecraft? I meet a lot of people, but you are by far the strangest man I’ve met.” You mumble out loud while you appreciate the cover and embellishments decorating the edges. You hadn’t intended for him to hear you, but of course he did.

“Figured Ellie might ‘preciate it…” He trailed off, stopping himself from saying a word too many in fear that he gave away too much of an inside peek at his inner thoughts. Upon hearing him you looked up, surprised that he even mentioned his surrogate daughter — considering your observations of the two had been particularly volatile as of late.

You thumb the raised lettering of the title and look at him, his eyes were sad which contrasted his stature. You weren’t one to pry, despite being impressively curious by nature, “kid’s got a gnarly taste in pop culture… I was out on a run and saw one of them comics she likes… y’know she has those hoarded all over Jackson, yeah?”

His eyes flickered over to you, he was trying to get a read on you and sense any plausible reason why you’d bring up Ellie. He knew you weren’t one for ulterior motives but he didn’t like discussing a whole lot about the young girl with many people, no matter how much he enjoyed your company.

“What are you doin’?” He pressed, turning his body to face you front on with his hands clasped together between his knees.

Your eyebrows knit together in thought, unsure what prompted such a serious question and change in demeanour, “Uh… making conversation?” It seemed like an obvious statement, you refrained from being too direct just in case it provoked him further.

“Right…” He merely uttered, standing up from his position on the couch and moving toward the bar. You looked at him with confusion, unsure where the outburst came from and why it even happened in the first place. It wasn’t the first time you’d brought up Ellie in conversation but now it seemed like it was a soft spot for him.

“Okay… I’ll bite — um… what the fuck?” You strained your neck to face him, not wanting to move your entire body to prevent unnecessary pain, “did something happen between you two bec—“

“Y/N… Don’t.” His voice was low, almost like a guttural growl to fend you off from pressing further.

You threw your arms in the air and shook your head, “jesus fuck, Joel you’re a real asshole sometimes… You’re so broody and temperamental I feel like I'm walking on eggshells just to talk to you… Y’know not every person is out to get you.” The words hung in the air for a moment while you started to move yourself off the chair, wanting to have your own space by the upstairs fire.

Watching you struggle to get up from the armchair admittedly did break the tension Joel brought into the room, he sighed loudly to set aside his pride as he slowly shifted toward you, “don’t move… Let me change your dressings over.”

His voice barely made it to your ears, but hearing them made you loudly groan and sit back down, “jesus fuckin’ christ — I cannot deal with you right now,” you mumbled to yourself. Despite Joel being notorious for his outbursts, they rarely featured up front and centre like tonight; particularly around you.

But when they did, it was exhausting to deal with to say the least. Given that almost every time they occurred, you never knew the exact reason why. Things would be much easier for the both of you, if one participant was just that little more vocal.

“Just give me the shit and I’ll do it myself, take your bullshit energy and fuck off over there.” You pointed to the bar where he previously stood, very blunt in telling Joel how much you didn’t want to fight with him knowing you both were snowed in together for who knows how long.

Being as direct and as blunt as you were had been one of the many things Joel came to admire about you, feeling a tangible sense of guilt for blowing up at you like he did. He knelt down beside you, motioning for you to shimmy forward into the light of the fire better.

You huffed in response, not making eye contact with him as you pushed yourself closer to the edge of the chair.

He was careful and delicate once again, inspecting your wound after discarding the used gauze. You found it exceptionally difficult not to look down and watch what he was doing, mainly because you were inquisitive by nature but you couldn’t help but be fond of his closeness.

One of his fingers grazed the carefully done stitches, prompting a wince from you, the action almost snapping you out of your angry facade, “you definitely weren’t a fuckin’ surgeon in your past life, huh.” You call back to the conversation you had earlier, an attempt to help ease the tension between you two.

“And you weren’t no comedian, either…” he bit back, attaching the dressings on the exit wound.

“So you go from grumpy to jokey just like that?” You raise a brow, fully aware you were rattling the cage at this point, but him even cracking a retort of the sarcastic variety was enough of an indicator that he was trying to make reparations.

He taps your thigh and motions for you to turn so he can start on the entry wound, “I ain’t too good at this whole… People... business,” he admitted, stating it like it wasn’t already overtly obvious to any conscious person with a functioning brain.

“Oh what? You’re joking, right? You are such a people person,” you mock, turning your head down to give him a playful smirk.

His eyes met yours, a glint of something you weren’t entirely sure of just yet. Returning his gaze back to changing over the final dressings on your back, “that was uncalled for,” he murmured, pretending not to notice the smile present on your lips.

The simple fact that he admitted to you outloud seemed to be a step in the right direction and for that, you were incredibly grateful.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here for?” You ask, feeling Joel's fingers lift from your skin as he finishes patching you up. Missing the sensation it made you feel. You turned back to face him properly, not expecting him to still be seated so close to you, not that you minded at all.

“Hopin’ that we’ll be out by tomorrow… Worst case scenario, we’ll be here for a few days.”

You throw your head back over dramatically, “be stuck inside here with your grumpy old ass — what fuckin’ atrocities did I commit to deserve this?” You jest, smiling even wider seeing the light amusement evident in his eyes, “ah! I’m so close to getting you to laugh, one of these days I’ll get you, cowboy.”

“Definitely weren’t a comedian…” He reiterated, a content smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

The thought of a comeback was completely lost on your part as you simply admired his features up close. From when you first met to now, his hair had grown out longer which you thought looked nice on him, even if it would hang over his face just that little bit.

His hazel eyes were your favourite feature of his, and in the orange glow from the fire they seemed all the more alluring.

It was a happy silence, one filled with just the two of you trying to read each other and guess what the other was going to do. For someone so direct, you were quite talented in not telegraphing intended movements or motions. It made you a hard person to pinpoint which both intrigued and infuriating someone like Joel who was quite adept in reading people.

You were the first one to break away from the stillness, taking the book you were given to pass the time, “as much as I’d love to stare into your dreamy eyes all day, I’ve gotta book to read and a whole lotta time to kill… Thanks for being a shitty nurse… did better than what I could, anyway.”

Joel stood up, giving you ample space to shift. He holds out a hand for you to help yourself up, which you take thankfully. Your throwaway compliment didn’t go unnoticed by him, nor did the way your eyes scanned his features moments ago. He lived through life long enough to know what look you were giving him.

It was a look he’d often see you give him, whether it was subconsciously or not— that, he was unsure of. He was always apprehensive when he saw your eyes darken the way they did, but it was his own inability to allow himself to get close to anyone that caused his uneasiness.

You looked at the man standing before you, his face crinkled in thought as if his mind was elsewhere. You felt a compulsion to ask what he was thinking but weren’t too sure how far that conversation would get before it got messy… Despite his change and attitude, the man was notorious for switching in an instant and you knew better than to prod him too much.

Then again… your favourite pastime was exclusively getting under the man's skin.

“What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout there cowboy? Thinkin’ mighty hard about somethin’.” Being much taller than you were, you ducked to meet his thoughtful gaze. His internal struggle barely showing in his face, only being tossed aside the second his eyes found yours.

“You.”

That had taken you aback, your eyes growing wide as a slight tinge of red dusts your cheeks. Naturally, unable to process compliments or situations like these, you turn to jestful remarks as a way to assess the mood, “should I be concerned? If it’s about who's gonna eat who when starvation starts settin’ in, I would ‘preciate it if you didn’t carve me up.”

“Can you stop talkin’ for just five seconds,” his voice was low and eyes scanning your features.

Intrinsically, you keep talking to fill the void of silence as you aren’t completely sure how else to alleviate the tension, “well… I can consider but —.”

You hadn’t got very far in your smug retort, cut off by the man's abrupt and unexpected decision to shut you up by pressing his lips to yours. It seemingly came out of left field and only took you just a moment to reciprocate, pushing all astonishment aside.

For someone who sported a rough exterior, you were pleasantly surprised at how gentle Joel was, caressing your face with his calloused hands so delicately. You discard the book that was once in your grasp, trading it for his firm chest while you gripped onto his shirt.

Pulling away, you bite down on your lower lip as you look deeply into his eyes. You considered uttering a witty remark, but the look he was giving you was one of warning. And as much as you would love to find out what would happen as a consequence of speaking out, you were content in continuing whatever had already started.

Your hands trail up to the back of his neck, leaning up to press your lips back onto his. This time with a little more desperation, you swipe your tongue on his lower lip, prompting a short but low growl from your companion. One of his hands was pinned to your *good* side, the other remained on the side of your face.

The feeling that pooled in your stomach, matching the hammering of your heart would almost make you concerned if you weren’t in the safe grasp on the man you’d shamelessly pined after.

Despite the hunger and desperation on your part, Joel was still pleased at going at his own pace; which was painstakingly slow. Savouring the moment you two were sharing, as if you were going to disappear in an instant.

“Gotta say — didn’t peg you as the romantic type,” you whispered breathlessly, eyes never straying from his darkened hazel ones, your hands stroking his firm torso, “but we’re gonna have to speed things up.” You brush your lips against his, hovering daringly close while your hands eagerly undo the buttons to his flannel.

He didn’t seem at all bothered by your impatience (it was typical of you after all), but it was bothering him how much of a tease you were being. Far be it for you to not be a pain in his ass even in an intimate manner. Your soft hands kneading his bare chest — which was ripped, you noted to yourself mentally as he shrugged his flannel off.

Your fingers trace the outlines of numerous scars present, regardless of his age and living in a dangerous time for humanity. The healed wounds did little to impact his figure, instead sprinkling slight imperfections across him as if it were to keep him humble.

Joel dips his head to your jawline, trailing small wet kisses down your neck and nipping at some skin to earn the slightest little noises from you. Oh how that made you feel. You squirm in his hold, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to provide some friction to appease the wetness between your legs.

There was little to no hesitation as he pulls your shirt up over your head, surprised at your bare torso. Sure, you both had seen better days but the scars from knives, bullets and arrows were telling of the journey you’d gone through to get to this point; including your most recent addition.

The warmth his hands provided while they trailed over scars and rise of your breasts left your skin tingling. You notice his eyes wandering over your features, knowing he wasn’t judging your looks merely pondering over what story was behind which scar. You’re confident in that sentiment, considering you felt the same way whilst you thumb the scarring on his collarbone.

“You good?” You whisper, your breath hitching as the pad of his thumb grazes your pert nipple. This man…

“Just takin’ in the view.” His voice was low, prompting a smile from you. The man was a hopeless romantic at heart, that was clear enough — any other time you’d gladly lap it up happily, but right now you needed something a little less idealistic. Desire possessing you further (it seemed like you’d have plenty of time together anyway.)

You press your lips back onto his feverishly, trailing your hands down his torso to his jeans. The bulge in his pants growing more in response to your hand giving him a sensual squeeze, he moans into your mouth which is enough of an indicator for you to start undoing his belt.

His hands cupped your breasts progressively harder, taking in your nipples between his thumb and finger. The sensation pulsing downward enough to make your toes curl and thighs clench. You could’ve fucked him there and then, pleasure pooling inside you.

“Sit down,” You ordered, pushing his chest toward the couch to which he obliged, enjoying the fact you were so eagerly prepared to take charge. As a man of tradition, he’d typically lead but found it incredibly arousing to heed your demands and listen. You’re quick in kicking off your shoes and discarding your jeans, welcoming the chill to the air as it cools down your burning skin.

The sight of him on the couch, shirtless and showcasing the tent pitched in his pants was so remarkably inviting you couldn’t wait a second longer, straddling his hips and bringing your lips back onto his as you begin grinding down on his bulge. The friction alone was enough to bring moans of pleasure from both of you, you tugging at his hair harder the more aroused you became.

He pulls away, running his hands up and down your sides - vigilant in not wanting to knock your wound - before bringing his lips to the valley of your breasts, ensuring to leave short kisses on every indent or raised section of scarred skin before settling down on one of your nipples. The free hand that wasn’t anchored at your hips, was kneading your other breast.

A whimper tumbles from your lips, grinding your hips harder against his. You bring a hand down, frantically trying to undo his pants all the while feeling the euphoria coming from just merely grinding him. Yes it had been a while since you felt this good.

He lifts his hips up, giving you enough space to yank down both his jeans and underwear. The feeling of his cock flush up against the thin material of your panties caused you to gasp and grip onto his shoulders tightly.

Both of you moaning at the absolute bare minimum of stimulation of your most sensitive areas. His cock throbbed the second the tip rubbed up against the dampness of your panties, it being far too long since he partaken in anything sexually charged in quite some time. The same goes for you.

Now it was Joel’s turn to get impatient, bringing one hand up behind your neck while the other dipped down into your panties, his fingers stroking your wet slit. You jolt forward at the feeling of his fingers circle your clit, the sensation pooling desperately as your hips buck, riding his fingers.

His calloused fingers seemed to hit the right spot with every roll of your hips, it made you wonder how his lips would feel and tongue would feel if he seemed to be making you feel this good with his fingers alone.

“Fucking hell, Joel.” You cry out, resting your head on the crook of his neck, leaving small love bites along his collar bone. His scent of eucalyptus mixed with wood was ever so welcoming, the aroma that drove you insane whenever he stood a little too close.

Your high began to climb, grinding your hips more desperately against him while he expertly finger fucks you until hitting the right spot, sending your body rigid as your walls close in and around his fingers, pulsating while you ride your climax out.

“Eager, are we?” His breath tingled your ear, even though you weren’t looking at him you could tell he was fashioning some smug smirk. You laugh breathlessly, sitting upright and sliding off your panties.

One of your hands closes over his length, pumping painstakingly slow, all the while watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. Your soft hand wrapped around him felt leagues better than the familiar roughness of his own. His hips bucked to help quicken the pace you had set, to which you smirked and pinned him flush against the couch.

You kept on pumping his throbbing length, positioning yourself more comfortably on his lap. He leaned his head back, lips parted to let the soft grunts pass through while you continued to torment him slowly. If his fingers felt that great, you were eager to find out how well his cock felt.

You position his tip at your entrance, not wanting to torture the man or yourself any longer, sinking down onto his cock while his length stretches you out. Whimpering in sync with his growls, neither of you moving momentarily as you simply bask in the pleasure.

He thrusts his hips up first, a strangled moan escaping your lips as you meet his pace. Your lips brush gently up his neck, stopping just shy of his ear lobe. The faint mewls rolling out of your mouth sending him further into bliss with each roll of the hips, ignoring the painful irritation emitting from your wound.

His hands were anchored firmly to your thighs, fingers digging hard into your skin which would no doubt leave bruises in the morning. You nip at his ear and neck before returning your lips to his, muffled moans stifling out from the both of you with each sloppy kiss.

The sounds coming from you were near on pronographic, coupled with the quickening pace of you riding him, every insatiable thrust filling you more with a desire you weren’t aware you needed until now.

You dreamed of similar scenarios such as this with Joel, but the meager fantasies had nothing on the real thing. How his lips felt on yours, the way his hands caressed every part of you with care yet also commanded it, the way he made you dripping wet without much effort and most of all; the way he felt deep inside you.

He threw his head back, choked breaths preventing him from rasping out the words needed as his climax began rising. You noticed his staggered breathing and picked up the pace, gripping his hair tightly coaxing a guttural moan out from him.

One of his hands squeezed the back of your neck while the other clasped your breast roughly, his hips became rigid while a series of moans filled your ear just as you feel his cum spilling inside you. He slumped back into a comfortable position panting heavily, eying you in your incredibly typical perky demeanour.

You pulled yourself off him, his semi-flaccid member flopping out of you. Thankful past you had the forethought to pack rags, you rifle through your bag to clean yourself up, “you’ve got a surprising amount of stamina, cowboy,” the compliment earned you a smug smile from him, pride being an aura on Joel you never thought you’d see.

“If I’d have known this is all it took to shut you up, I would’ve done it sooner.” He states, as if thinking retroactively would change your ability to annoy the absolute life out of the man.

Tossing him a rag lazily, you chortle at the idea of thinking Joel - of all people - could be someone to get you to stop your antics forever, “Oh you knew — don’t lie to me mister. You just like to see me suffer in silence.” You were as transparent as one could be, yet your intentions were almost always misread as you did well to keep it muddled. Joel was a perceptive man, often finding you hard to read to the point of irritation for him, but - as you anticipated - he figured you out slowly but surely.

“I just like to see you silent,” he retorted, finally moving from his position to clean himself off, “but you ain’t wrong…” A man of his age knew a thing or two about what your not-so-subtle looks meant (even if it took him longer than usual to realise what you were actually wanting) and knowing you for the time he did also meant the possibility of things going south between you two went higher. He respected you too much to commit to something that might eventually be taken away from him in an instance — or vice versa.

“I’m never wrong, actually…” You confidently state, eying him with the same smug smile he sported only moments ago. The arrogant stature you held broken with a grimace as you clutch your injured side, “maybe a little bit wrong… probably shoulda let you lead there…”

He merely shook his head, allowing a chuckle to audibly sound which always felt you with a sense of satisfaction. The man shrouded in mystery was finally opening up to you more, that alone was a privilege you couldn’t be more proud of.

#request #imagines #imagine #joel miller #tlou #tlou imagines #reader insert #one shot #smut #Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller Smut #joel miller imagine #pwp #one shots

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sailormoonandme · 4 years ago

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Where to start with Sailor Moon?

From time to time I’ve seen people ask about how to get into Sailor Moon or how they might introduce it to someone else.

As such I’ve made this to (hopefully) help people out.

Introduction

So first of all you should know that the official name for the over all franchise is ‘Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon’. This can (and has) been translated a few ways, but the current official name is ‘Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon’. Basically everything connected with Sailor Moon carries this full official name, but for the purposes of this post I’m just going to shorten things to ‘Sailor Moon’.

Moving on, there are in fact different versions of the Sailor Moon story, even putting aside the various attempts at translating the story into different languages. Each version is best viewed as its own entity, sort of how there have been various versions of Sherlock Holmes that exist independently of one another.

For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to mostly keep this post to the original Japanese iterations of Sailor Moon, albeit from the point of view of an English speaking audience member.*

The main versions of the Sailor Moon story are as follows:

1) The Manga

The manga iteration of Sailor Moon began around late 1991/early 1992. It includes around 50 chapters, a handful of side stories and a prequel manga of sorts called Codename: Sailor-V. There have been several different English translations of this material over the years. However, my personal recommendation would be to experience the story through the ‘Eternal Editions’. These are easily available in print and digitally. As of this writing Codename: Sailor-V is scheduled to be collected in at some point in 2021, thus collecting all the manga stories.

2) The 1992 anime

This is the most famous iteration of Sailor Moon and loosely adapts the manga to the point where it is its own entity. It spans 200 episodes across five seasons, with each season being given its own subtitle. E.g. season 2 is referred to as ‘Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon R’. Additionally there were a handful of shorts and specials connected with the anime and three films. I have already compiled a watch list for the show that I hope will help you navigate everything.

Like the manga, there have been multiple efforts to subtitle the show into English, particular among fan subbing circles. However, the easiest way to watch the show with English subs is to do so via a streaming service (last I checked it was available on Hulu and Crunchyroll) or to purchase the DVDs and Blu-rays from Viz Media, although you can also purchase them digitally on Amazon.com too.

3) The musicals

On and off since 1993 there have been stage musicals produced for Sailor Moon. If you ever see the term ‘Sera Myu’ being used by fans (or even official sources) understand that it’s shorthand for these musicals.

The musicals are based chiefly upon the manga and the original anime, although with some original embellishments here and there. The degree to which a musical cuts closer to the manga, or the anime or does something all its own varies from one production to another. I’m not very well read up on the musicals I must admit, but it is to my understanding that each production exists independently from one another beyond at times carrying over cast and staff members. In essence there is no particular order you need to watch the musicals in. However, if you want more info on the musicals see the below EDIT, which is more well informed than I am.

To my knowledge, (which is limited in this particular case) all the musicals have been filmed but there has never been any kind of official English release for them. There have however been fan subbed efforts made for all of them.

4) The 2003 live action TV show

In fan circles this show is referred to as ‘Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon’ or ‘Pretty Guardian’ or ‘PGSM’. This is because it was the first piece of Sailor Moon media to bear that particular English translation of ‘Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon’. Basically if you see ‘Pretty Guardian’ or ‘PGSM’, understand it is referencing this show.

The show exclusively adapts the ‘Dark Kingdom’ storyline, the first storyline in every version of Sailor Moon. The show was made in a similar vein to shows like Kamen Rider or Super Sentai and the latter’s American adaptation, Power Rangers. However, it also incorporates elements of Japanese soap opera dramas too, original elements that were never in any version of Sailor Moon beforehand and many different spins on the plot points that had been covered before.

To my knowledge, like Sera Myu, no official English release for this show exists, but English fansubs are out there somewhere. If you manage to find the show then you should watch the various episodes and specials in their original broadcast order. For this Wikipedia is your friend.

5) Sailor Moon Crystal

Sporadically since 2014 a new Sailor Moon anime has been in production. This new anime cuts much closer to the original manga (although it still makes some changes ) than any other version of Sailor Moon. As of this writing, the show has yet to be completed and still has material from the manga left to adapt. The show is available to watch with English subtitles from the same sources as the original 1992 anime, including DVDs and Blu-Rays from Viz Media.

Like the original anime, Crystal’s story arcs and seasons have gone under different names. The first two seasons/arcs are officially just called ‘Sailor Moon Crystal’, whilst the third is explicitly titled ‘Sailor Moon Crystal Season III’. In place of a fourth season two films, Sailor Moon: Eternal Part 1 and Part 2, were produced. As of this writing, the Eternal films have yet to have any kind of English release. To make your life easier, watch this show in the order of the original air/release dates. Just remember the Eternal films are to be viewed after Season III.

Which version should you start with?

Whilst that is how the franchise breaks down, it is not the order a Sailor Moon newbie should try experiencing it in.

My personal recommendation would be to begin with the original 1992 anime and then move on to any of the other versions from there. This is because the original anime is aimed at a younger audience and was incredibly influential on basically every other version of the story.

However, if 200 episodes or more is too intimidating for you, then simply check out the manga. It’s far shorter, skewed a bit older and tells a concise and complete story.

And if you are still apprehensive then I’d highly recommend watching the first Sailor Moon film, Sailor Moon R The Movie. This is a very good film unto itself but it is a microcosm of the characters and themes that define the franchise as a whole. If you dislike this Sailor Moon just isn’t for you.

P.S. If you are simply dead set against subtitles then you should know the original 1992 anime and Crystal have in fact been dubbed into English by Viz Media. In fact, the first four seasons of the original anime, along with the first three films, have two English dubs, variously produced by DiC, Cloverway and Pioneer. These dubs were made in the 1990s and early 2000s and are currently not legally available anywhere.

*Things get more complicated when we consider that even in Japan there have been updated and altered versions of the Sailor Moon manga, anime, etc. We aren’t going to worry about that in this post though. They exist and maybe someday you might be inclined to check them out, but you know...baby steps...

EDIT #1: The following information comes from https://euribear.tumblr.com/

Just something I want to add on about the Sailor Moon Musicals.

If you see a musical with the word Kaiteiban (revision) at the end of the name, that means it’s a revised version of the previous musical. Things added or taken away, different cast members at times, etc.

Also, there are three musicals (technically four) that have a continuous storyline. Starring Miyuki Kanbe as Sailor Moon, Last Dracul, Transylvania no Mori (and its Kaiteiban), and Death Vulcan should be viewed in order.

The Bandai era of musicals were from 1993 to 2005.

The Nelke musicals started in 2014 and there was one each year for five years. One musical for each arc of the manga.

There are also the NogiMyu. These are musicals that solely focus on the Dark Kingdom arc and they star various members of the pop idol group Nogizazaka46.

There were two teams of cast members for the inner senshi for both years, 2018 and 2019. The same story overall, just different actresses.

There was also Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon The Super Live. My personal favorite, this was a musical performed only a few times. A couple of days in Japan in 2018 and then once in Paris in 2019 and then in Washington D.C. and later in NYC. I got to see this in person on one of the three showings in NYC. A dream come true. Unfortunately, this was never recorded, though they did release an instrumental musical album of the show.

#Sailor Moon #pretty soldier sailor moon #pretty guardian sailor moon #bishojo senshi sailor moon #bishoujo senshi sailor moon #Sailor Moon Crystal #PGSM #SeraMyu #Sera Myu #naoko takeuchi #Toei Animation

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manuscripts-dontburn · 3 years ago

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Imperial Legend: The Mysterious Disappearance of Tsar Alexander I

Author: Alexis S. Troubetzkoy

First published: 2002

Pages: 320

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Who doesn´t love a mystery? Especially one that actually does seem very probable? The legend of Alexander I faking his death and living out the rest of his life as a humble starets has always been the one Romanov conspiracy theory that intrigued me, especially because it seems plausible and is yet to be completely dismissed (unlike the last Imperial children surviving the well documented bloody slaughter in the summer of 1918). The author compiles most of the interesting and "suspicious" information and on the whole, the book is very readable. However, he also spends over three-quarters of the book narrating the actual and documented facts of Alexander´s life and reign and you quickly realize this is just a basic and not much detailed biography with some titillating add-ons at the end. I suppose it would serve well as an introductory book to Alexander and the rumours surrounding him.

Stalin's Daughter: The Extraordinary and Tumultuous Life of Svetlana Alliluyeva

Author: Greg King, Sue Woolmans

First published: 2015

Pages: 740

Rating: ★★★★☆

Fascinating and completely bewildering life of a woman whose whole existence was bound to her father´s name and his crimes. Exhausting, but very readable, the book captures a complicated personality which one can admire, pity but also disagree with and just shake your head over many of her decisions. In the end, it was all quite bitter and I appreciated the balanced way the differences between the USSR and the USA were presented.

The Holy Bible: Places and Stories from the Old and New Testament

Author: Gianni Guadalupi

First published: 2003

Pages: 304

Rating: ★★★★☆

Stunning paintings and photographs illustrate a concise and very much abridged version of pretty much the whole Bible. A good book for meditation, but expect neither a deep introduction to the religion nor a detailed artistic analysis of the works presented.

Candide, or the Optimist

Author:Voltaire

First published: 1759

Pages: 160

Rating: ★★★★☆

A madcap journey of a naive but honourable (to a fault) Candide and a bunch of other, more earth-bound characters, is a perfect "F-you" from Voltaire to some of the philosophical trends of his day. At first I was completely taken aback at how sparse the writing is and how incredibly fast everything happens, but once I managed to get into the book´s stride, it became very enjoyable, even if one doesn´t know whether one should roll their eyes or simply laugh at many of the events that take place in the story.

Le Pater (Otčenáš)

Author: Alfons Mucha

First published: 1899

Pages: 56

Rating: ★★★★★

Beautiful and striking drawing by Mucha, accompanied by his own words which clearly show how he personally viewed the Pater Noster prayer. An intriguing piece of art.

Creating Anna Karenina: Tolstoy and the Birth of Literature's Most Enigmatic Heroine

Edited by: Bob Blaisdell

First published: 2020

Pages: 400

Rating: ★★★★☆

What does it take to write a book? And what does it take to write a book as impactful, influential and successful as Anna Karenina? Bob Blaisdell gives you all of the answers. With a dedication and enthusiasm for the book that shines through every page, he introduces Tolstoy during a short time in his life when he battled procrastination, family losses, publication deadlines, severe depression and more - and somehow managed to create his possibly greatest work. Partly a biography, partly critical study and all a love letter to the book, this was a surprisingly engaging read. Naturally do not read it unless you have read Anna Karenina first :D

The Amazons: Lives and Legends of Warrior Women Across the Ancient World

Author: Adrienne Mayor

First published: 2014

Pages: 540

Rating: ★★★★★

This was truly fascinating and well written. Perfect if you want your feminist history to be well researched and argued.

The Chosen Ones

Author: Steve Sem-Sandberg

First published: 2014

Pages: 504

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

This book deserves all the praise for research, psychological portrayal and writing. But there is no real story, no actual plot. It is really just a long, awful journey through some nearly unimaginable suffering, to the point where I had to question whether the point has not lready been made repeatedly and the author just tries to turn this into a pain-porn. Exhausting and unpleasant reading experience.

The Secret Lives of Church Ladies

Author: Deesha Philyaw

First published: 2020

Pages: 179

Rating: ★★★★★

I am not big on short story collection or contemporary fiction, but this, this I liked very much.

Bodies of Water

Author: V.H. Leslie

First published: 2016

Pages: 130

Rating: ★★★★★

Holy shit! That was what I thought when I finished this book - and I only regret I could not read it all in one sitting. Such a short book it is, but it grips you and does not let go, it sucks you in and drowns you with its atmosphere. It is genuinely disturbing, but there is something immensely satisfying about it as well. Perfect if you crave something gothic and creepy.

#booklr #wrap up #August 2021

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impaladolan · 4 years ago

Text

Le Goût - Grayson Dolan

summary: as previously discussed, allison arrives at Le Goût the following friday, but she’s not as shy as she seems to be..

a/n: i think this is gonna be one of my favorite parts, even though allison comes across a little bitchy, but I swear she’s not!

UNLIKE most people, Allison had always been overly punctual. She hated when people would show up awkwardly late to an important meeting or event, so she always made it a task to come at least 5-10 minutes early to everything. When she arrived to the famous Le Goût restaurant and saw that the lights were all on and one of the tables were neatly decorated, she couldn't help the sheepish smile that came over her face. The last time she had laid eyes on him, she was in immense pain and agony, but now that was gone, except for the few lingering stitches. She was hoping and praying that he was as equally nice and comforting as he was when she first met him. And ever since the hospital night, she had been pondering restlessly on what the hell his name could be.

With the freshly cleaned shirt, purposely scented with her perfume, squeezed in her hand, she finally exited her homely vehicle and made her way into the very familiar restaurant she could almost call home. As a child, her and her brothers seemed to always be there, playing their childish games and causing a few interruptions with the customers. She loved the restaurant and the family heritage it had, but she rarely ever attends any dinners there anymore. Mainly because she doesn't want to ruin the "special magic" of the place by overly eating there. But tonight was an exception, for mr. nameless, that is.

So when she glided through the front doors, wearing a simple short dress and her heels clicking against the nicely tiled floors, her eyes only landed on the small note placed atop a porcelain white plate right in the middle of the table. Her brows crinkled for a second, her thin fingers reaching out and pinching the thick, cardboard like paper and pulling it up to eyesight level. She then read the scribbled black writing right in the middle;

find me in the kitchen & bring that shirt of mine ;)

— GD

Her smile seemed to stretch all the way to her ears, reading over the sloppy writing again and again before setting it back in its original place. Her hands tightened around the shirt once more before she turns on her heels, walking in the familiar direction of the noiseless kitchen. She pushed the swinging door in slightly, peeking her head in just to see if he was actually there. And just as the note said, he was facing the wall opposite to her, his veiny hands wrapped around a wooden spoon and a skillet full of delicious looking vegetables. She almost scoffed when she recognized that he was shirtless, yet again. Though, she didn't mind it too much, the mere sight of his backside was enough to satisfy her. But that changed when he turned around, his godly face and torso now in her full view, his enticing smile corrupting the entirety of his face, it seemed like.

"I take it you don't like wearing clothes too often?" Her strongly held voice ponders aloud as he fully turns his body to address her, his eyes looking up and down her body in pure amazement and adoration, seemingly the same as he did only days ago. “They shrivel up and turn to dust somehow when I'm around you." He shrugs, her arms being crossed as she finally lets herself grin at his smooth words. "I'd rather not be distracted all night, so here's your shirt you asked for.." Allison unfolds the neatly cleaned white t-shirt, waving it in the air for him to retrieve. The mystery man quickly pivots in his stance and turns the oven's burners off before striding over to her, reaching out for the shirt he had kindly asked for. But before his fingers could grasp the soft cloth, Allison pulled it away and behind her back, a sneakish grin presiding on her plumped lips.

"Name, and I'll give it to you." She pesters, looking up into his eyes that were almost hidden by the rising smirk in his face. He knew that he'd rather not have the shirt at all, or if he did really want it, he could forcefully grab it from her. But he had played his games long enough and was very much ready to hear his own name roll from her tongue. Her sweet sounding voice was lready vocal in his nightly dreams. "Grayson." He keeps his stare, not changing his emotions whatsoever while Allison almost happily sighs. What a dreamy name, right? She couldn't help but feel a bit smaller now, knowing his name for some odd reason. It sounded familiar, she was almost sure Marcus had maybe brought him up in a conversation before, but only briefly.

"Shirt?" He extends his arms out to her, raising his pointy brows in question. "I think I change my mind, I like the view." She winks, quickly refolding the shirt and tucking it under her arm. "That's not fair for me.." He mumbles, blowing a straggling piece of hair away from his beautifully shaped face. Her only reaction is to roll her eyes, his little seductive mumblings always seeming to get to her. He had a bad habit of doing that around her, speaking his sometimes filthy mind when it came to things. Hopefully it wouldn't get too out of hand the longer he hung around her, for his mouth would soon find him in a bit of trouble if he kept it up.

Allison felt so confused and flustered as her body heat continued to rise. She didn't understand how attracted she was for a man she barely even knows. Her mind was like a rollercoaster, doing loop-de-loops around her brain the more she thought about him. And for Grayson, it was ten times harder to keep his hands to himself. He kept imagining endless scenarios that ended with an orgasm for the two, but he shook his thoughts when she effortlessly draped the familiar cloth over his shoulder.

Suddenly, like a burst of confidence within her, she trailed her index finger softly over the protruding bumps of his muscled shoulder, continuing it across the ridges of his upper back and down his indented spine. Grayson's body began to shiver with thrills, her soft touch sending his foggy brain to an unfamiliar euphoric altitude. She studied his flawless backside, taking note of each tiny little freckle or mole that she'd find hidden around the curvatures of his shoulder blades. She continued her flirt-like admiration as she slid her finger up his thick neck and to the fringe of his hair.

Standing up on her tipi-toes, Allison lets her cool breaths fan against his ear before she spoke; "Thank you, Grayson, for the other day.." And with that said, she took a couple steps back and brushed off her ridiculously clean frontside. Grayson was extremely flustered by her sensual actions, his cheeks possibly a tomato red while the "mind of its own" between his thighs began perking upward to her tainting voice. He only turned to look at her when he heard the click of her heels walking in the opposite direction.

"I'm leaving for the restroom, I'll be back in five." She sighs, her excited expressions held back until she fully exited the kitchen and made her way into the pristine bathroom decorated with a luxuric touch.

ALLISON wasn't trying to "get in his pants," but having a bit of dirty fun wouldn't do any harm, right? Well, in Grayson's eyes, it was totally wrong. Her little stunt that she recently pulled on him basically had him on his knees begging for her. Grayson thought himself more of the dominant type in a relationship, and to be so belittled in a short amount of time of vulnerability certainly didn't set well with him. So the only way to make things right, was to tie the game that the two were subsequently playing.

So when Allison had finished up in the ladies restroom, she made her way back to an empty kitchen, the remnants of the dirty pans he had just used cluttered in the enlarged sink. She retraced her steps to the dining area, a few candles lit and placed around the area where a grinning Grayson was sat, his eyes trailing her body once more. Her mouth slightly gapes in awe, the table gorgeously decorated and the food almost too stunning to eat. "You made all of this?" She slowed her walk once she fully approached the table, Grayson's eager self jumping up from his seat. Like the gentleman he is, he gladly pulled the chair out for her, nodding to her question as he did so.

"Did you expect any less?" He curved one of his eyebrows upward, the distraught shake of her head solving his pondering. Once she was sat in the chair, he easily pushed her under the table and took his seat again. Folding his arms across his chest, he leans back in his chair, eyeing Allison with his lustful stare. "Dig in." His distracting voice almost demands, Allison hastily picking up the neatly placed fork beside her plate. Without another warning, she "dug in" and placed the food in her mouth. Flavor began to roll throughout her taste buds as her pearly white teeth chewed on the wondrous food. "Grayson, this is wonderful.. How'd you make it?" She quickly asked before taking another large bite. He only shrugs, his very familiar smirk rising on his lips.

"Don't know, I just happen to be the head chef here." She froze in her place, her eyes widening as she looked at him. "You're that Grayson?" Allison finally recognized the man sitting across from her. He was Grayson Dolan, head chef at Le Goût, one of her brother's best friends, and her saving grace from the gallery. She was shocked that she hadn't truly known who he was the entire time. Her father has spoken about him before, as well as Marcus and even Andrew, but she didn't take to that fact that that was him.

The new information in mind, she continued to eat the delicious food, moaning almost intensely as she chewed. Grayson's grip on his fork tightened, his ears almost perking to the sound of her oblivious breathing. He had trouble even focusing on his food, let alone eating it.

And the night continued on, Allison antagonizing Grayson unintentionally while he struggles to keep to himself...

(masterlist)

#dolan twins smut #dolan twins #dt #ily #grayson #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grant #grayson dolan #impaladolan #graysonbailey #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfic #graysondolan #Grayson #grayson and ethan #chef!grayson #grayson x OC #Le Goût

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