SAO LILDOOP

I am feeling this song so much right now, "Mama, I am that rich man" is such an awesome line! Obv I am a guy and not a tom-boy lol, but this song is just undeniably epic.

This is a book I am working on, it is written in sort of a poetic way soI thought I'd post it here. It is about a Jiangshi, a chinese undead vampire. I may post more of it here later (or maybe I'll keep it to myself, lol) who knows. Anyway, tell me whatch'a think (if you feel like it). I intend to tackle some serious social issues with this. Prologue Darkness, a sound like hooves beating upon the ground and then… silence. A familiar smell entails a choice victim. Only a slingshot from the immutable stance of the emboldened figure whose name has yet to grace my tongue stands the prey. Weak and ripe for the raping, stout yet altogether senseless; it is an easy target for the musing mind of defilement. The moon dare not shine her divine light on this moment; the grass dare not keep silent upon this violent apparition nor the wind attempt not to warn the witless victim. Yet, it is by cause and effect that Mother Nature functions and through superiority that she fortifies her lodgings. A blood-stained beast of hell drenched in blood of an amount so much it alludes to post-pregnancy. His mouth, so dark and abhorrent, the blood of the innocent permanently permeating his taste-buds transforms a smile, a laugh, a yawn into a most surreal contradiction. His fingers, spindly and raw serving almost as several misshapen proboscis threaten the victim even after death has said his cold good-byes. His hair, stale and unkempt turn-coat from its originality under the eye of the divine moon goddess; it serves as a scarlet foresight into the existence of this inhuman terror. Thumping, a continual loathsome beating equatable unto that of the drums of war. A blood drenched orgy, dancing triumphantly almost as if in rebellion against the mance of the victim lying beneath him. A trail of entrails naught which the insects may refuse as their own. A meal deprived of meat with left none but a bone to with scorn the bypassing beast; a feast from which comes no sustenance but for the glutton of whom stripped bare all before the declaration prevailed unto the multitude. Jiang Shi

This is a book I am working on, it is written in sort of a poetic way. It is about a Jiangshi, a chinese undead vampire. I may post more of it here later (or maybe I'll keep it to myself, lol) who knows. Anyway, tell me whatch'a think (if you feel like it). I intend to tackle some serious social issues with this. Prologue Darkness, a sound like hooves beating upon the ground and then… silence. A familiar smell entails a choice victim. Only a slingshot from the immutable stance of the emboldened figure whose name has yet to grace my tongue stands the prey. Weak and ripe for the raping, stout yet altogether senseless; it is an easy target for the musing mind of defilement. The moon dare not shine her divine light on this moment; the grass dare not keep silent upon this violent apparition nor the wind attempt not to warn the witless victim. Yet, it is by cause and effect that Mother Nature functions and through superiority that she fortifies her lodgings. A blood-stained beast of hell drenched in blood of an amount so much it alludes to post-pregnancy. His mouth, so dark and abhorrent, the blood of the innocent permanently permeating his taste-buds transforms a smile, a laugh, a yawn into a most surreal contradiction. His fingers, spindly and raw serving almost as several misshapen proboscis threaten the victim even after death has said his cold good-byes. His hair, stale and unkempt turn-coat from its originality under the eye of the divine moon goddess; it serves as a scarlet foresight into the existence of this inhuman terror. Thumping, a continual loathsome beating equatable unto that of the drums of war. A blood drenched orgy, dancing triumphantly almost as if in rebellion against the mance of the victim lying beneath him. A trail of entrails naught which the insects may refuse as their own. A meal deprived of meat with left none but a bone to with scorn the bypassing beast; a feast from which comes no sustenance but for the glutton of whom stripped bare all before the declaration prevailed unto the multitude. Jiang Shi

Title: Sweet Devil As you walk you are bombarded with: pictures of ecstasy, rumors of obscenity and as you run towards visions of serenity you are only bombarded still... And that face, unblinking as if frozen in time hanging onto this one rhyme, it haunts you. Sweet devil. One hand on the bible and the other in the cookie jar, how did you get this far? House in denial, you're pain's gone viral, how are you living now? It's time to put yourself on trial. Would you take a stranger home, hold them down until they moan? Its not a hard question so what's with that tone? I wonder... Would you sit down in a club and throw you're money to the dancer? Please, sir, answer, its impossible to deny a stance here. Would you blame the victim for her choice of clothing? Oh, now what's with that look of self-loathing? Sweet devil. You say, "no", every time, but you lie, live an ideal for this rhyme and they cry. "But young men just wont do, they'll turn you black and blue, they'll break you're heart in two and go away laughing as they do". sweet devil. Its like looking in a mirror, you hate it but its part of you, its like looking to the past, present and future. Oh, what will you do? And these ecstatic images dancing in you're mind, they are only visions slowing the climb. You're blind to their problems but so protective of hers, what makes the majority inferior and one girl superior? Sweet devil. Hypocrisy rules your pitiful life, you warn her of yourself by warning her of them. You don't care and you know its true, you'd never give up a piece of ass if you didn't have to. You can't bear the reality of what you knew. who you'd be, who you were. You can't change the present but you sure as hell can put on a mask if you're up to task. The difference between you and them is you pretend you've changed while they acknowledge they never will. Sweet devil. So just go on condemning yourselves, condemning others and playing the hero, just go on condemning your past while hiding your future, the same prerogative. Just go on and on and on, it just goes on. Why can't you just be good? You know you should so simply do it. Put down the Viagra, can't you think without it? Weakness controls you, don't you want to quit it? Sweet devil. She serves only as an excuse to comfort yourself, to tell yourself you're doin' alright, because facing you're reality, its an awful sight and you can put it off just one more night... On and on and on...

First of all, I'd like to thank you for this @Seshi what a nice poem to wake up to in the morning. To someone sincere, whom I hold dear this is for inspiring me when I think no one can hear, you show me I can make an impact and really connect with those whom I speak to even when I don't mean to, so thank you, and happy Valentines day (In advance) Seshi. -Sincerely, SAO LILDOOP

Title: I Love (You) Poetry "I want to write poetry". Such an inquisitive moment but I remember it so well, the warmth of the words, the paper, that smell... It was like nature was greeting me personally, calling me by name ever so calmly and presenting an outlet to present joy, fear and pain... A tag on which to inscribe my name. I feel that same warmth to this very day, it's a start in the heart that dances softly across the spine; an inspiration all mine. I don't need to think about the words and neither do you, just allow the music in your soul to surge through you. Sweater to big for my little arms, slippers too loose around my ankles, blanket wrapped just right around my snug body, I feel just like a child snuggled up close with his mommy. The day will come, when you'll feel the warmth of an open log furnace, an embrace from a sincere face and maybe even... That strangely familiar heat of inspiration, like holding the hand of your crush for the first time; You don't need to look her in the eyes, just allow her warmth to cure you're nerves and pick up the pencil. I want to hear you're ideas, I want to look at your mind, I just hope you don't mind; I know I'd love what I'd find. So don't be afraid, just open up, you might even surprise yourself. I love you, love yourself and always remember, don't let anybody else dictate how creative YOU can be. Stay positive whoever you are, you're priceless; here's a playlist of all the songs that make me feel warm, happy and inspired.

Name: SAO LILDOOP Age: 19 Gender: Male Big or Little Spoon? Perfectly comfortable either way. Kisses? Yes Where: Not anywhere NSFW, lol. Acceptable Nicknames: Pretty much anything as long as It is said in a sweet way. Can We Build a Fort? Yes, sounds like a lot of fun. Video Games/Movies: Chick flicks, V for Vendetta, Tekken/Mortal Kombat, Multiplayer Resident Evil. Pillow Fight? Literally could not say no, lol. Pants Required? Yes! Unless we're married, lol. Can I Fall Asleep? Yes, falling asleep is cute.

Higurashi has been confirmed to get a new installment (most viably sometime this year) and, alongside a short announcement trailer the new adaption has already garnered itself its very own website (https://higurashianime.com/) as well as twitter page (https://twitter.com/higu_anime). This news was released the 6'th of this month (I'm 2 weeks late, sorry) but was teased earlier with the delay of Ciconia phase 2 by Ryukishi07, stating, "Very good news is coming on January 6'th". It has not yet been confirmed what exactly the project is. It could be a reboot, remake or even (fingers crossed) a continuation. However, all we know for sure right now is that Higurashi is back, and I think that's enough to get most of us die-hard Higurashi fan's excited. Now though we may not know the details of the plot we do, however, have information regarding the studio producing this new adaption as well as the artist tasked with redefining the familiar faces of all our favorite Higurashi characters. 7'th expansion is working on the project as expected, however, studio Passione (known best for works such as Highschool DXD and Citrus) has come into the limelight as the producer of this new Higurashi adaption. The new artist designated to 7'th Expansions latest, "When they Cry" installment is none other than Akio Watanabe (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akio_Watanabe). I don't know how to feel about this to be honest, seeing the trailer I do enjoy the new art-style (Though I am a stickler for the classic), however, will it hold up in the long run with all of the bloody details this new Project will be most definitely throwing at us? I just don't know. I remember way back when I watched, "When they Cry's" Ova's (Also known as Rei and Kira) and I didn't even like that change though it was mainly lighting and very nuanced. All in all I trust 7'th Expansion's judgement with concern to taking on Akio Watanabe as well as Studio Passione and look forward to this new project whether it be a visual novel, remake, reboot or continuation. With the announce of this new project the Higurashi fandom has been buzzing and there have been some new strides made in the way of commercializing the new project, such as re-airing both seasons 1 and 2 of the OG Higurashi on AT-X in Japan. Have a look at the announcement trailer below and be sure to post your thoughts in the comments section (If you feel like it). Ni~Paaa One last thing: Who is you're favorite Higurashi Character and thereby the character you are most excited to see re imagined in this upcoming project? Personally I love all the characters but my favorite was always Rena (The flagship character of both the original seasons as well as this new project).

Title: Language of the Universe (Like an Endless Flood) Bath towels and Cigarettes, long nights unaccompanied by rest, warm water above this bloody drain; I'm being drained myself, I'm being drained. The drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood, wading through this water, wading through this mud. And the language of the universe, it knows my name. The language of the universe knows my name... I'm not the same, I'm not the same. And the drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood. I wish I could turn it off but the handles broken. I wish I could shut it out but there's a crack underneath every door! There's a crack underneath every door... Am I really living anymore? This intrusive song echoing from beyond like a chinese gong, how long will it last, how long? How long can I last? I can't deal with my past! Because she's always got the joker and all I've got's the queen. And the drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood. These sounds, they used to remind me of incandescent youth, when I was ignorant of the truth, when we... This song. And I wish I could turn it off but the handles broken! The handles broken! The handles broken! And I wish I could shut it out but I'm broken... there's no way out. And the knock at my door doesn't remind me anymore, of: her touch, her smile, But only that of a corps's... And her tongue sounds the same with much less flavour and her palates unchanging even in danger, or when informed by a stranger... Yet I've been here all the while, learning a second language to justify it. But waters water even to the dead, the lame, the blind and those I try to keep out of my mind! And my mind... "I'm just a sojourner here, I don't understand your language!" I wish I could say, but she'd only respond, "Then what's with that tear?" in drip drops, the language of the universe like an endless flood... I can see it on his brow, in her frown, in the hiding of her face beneath her wedding gown... When will I drown In the language of the universe like an endless flood?

Title: Porcelain Heart ♥ When the day is young and the bells been rung I'll lie awake in this song I've sung. And the scene will go with a flash of yellow, my heart aglow and maybe a pinch of snow. And I'll lie in bed, 'cause I don't care. Those tears I dread can't find me here. Inside my head its Christmas day, strapped in tight to Santa's sleigh. Phone in hand and flight laws broken just to leave that girl a token, of the word's I've spoken... under the covers with furry lovers. My breath's so hot and my arm aches, but its so easy how the bone breaks. And the clock ticks on nonjudgmentally as if it too is ignoring me. The moonlight calls us all sometimes, that's not easy to forget living in these words and rhymes. But I just wish we could forgo the silent callings of the world we know, so we could know one another. Y'know its funny, times not cheap but neither is money and when you work that hard the world sure looks sunny. But cooped up in these porcelain walls I cannot hear those distant calls. I'm not a child and I know Santa's gone, but I just wish his miss could hear this song... Because I'm warmblooded in the winter and cold every other time, and no dollar or dime could break that rhyme. But it's not like I've forgotten the days spent outside, no, in autumn there were a lot. And its not like I've forgotten the days spent on the road, friends side by side and the grass not mowed. No, every time I look outside I can feel that charcoal heat on the bottom's of my feet. I can feel that wind around my eyes and the length between the ground and the skies. And I can smell that smell, so familiar, like a breath of tobacco and a whiff of ginger. But I don't like to linger. If I had to choose between school halls or bathroom stalls I'd choose the latter. But I prefer glass walls where the tick-tock of the clock reverberates like an echo in outer space. Because if the former took first place I'd only ever see that face, and I don't have a can of mace to erase that image from my mind... So I stay inside all day and play, after all, don't all kids wish they could live that way? Now the tree stands tall and the leaves conceal... nothing, nothing to steal. Yes, the tree and me, we've one thing in common; we're both dead inside on this Christmas joy-ride. And I know there are millions, but what happened to the ones place, there are billions but what happened to the "smile on every child's face?" And I can feel it, that Christmas spirit, only when I'm allowed to come right near it, or when they take it in their hands and smear it right on my eyes, "See, look what Santa buys". Why do the naughty kids punishments get prioritized? They'll just fight it out when the fire dies. You get it don't you, you see it too, right? The cold gnawing of this Christmas night? "Loneliness makes it worse and so I wish you might, come and speak with me tonight?" Nothing, whether artful or described could touch me like this, natures call from the mist. The beep of the phone, the flash of the light, it resonates within these walls tonight. Now I can't find the door or maybe I don't want to because these walls are made of glass, light enough to punch through! Now out in the cold, mittens drenched with blood, (or is it the other way around?) I plod onward listening for that sound. But I've never heard her voice, nor the choir and that's always been my choice, so now I'll live like a liar. Any voice will do, its hers its true! Any voice, any voice will get me through. But I feel a cold crunch like the cracking of ice and I feel a sharp pain I've only felt twice. And I know its not nice, its not what you wanted, but I've got no rhymes to return to, no plan B's plotted. So I'll just sit down and stare at my hand, glass protruding and blood pouring from every bruise. But I'm numb and don't feel a thing, this winter will chill me right through this wound. And on this Floridan Christmas evening I will catch frost bite. ♥