Who knows!

Like... seriously.


On fire.

It sucks.

 jaeger_elijah

Welcome to the new age.

Ya know, it has been forever since I posted a journal worth reading. Mostly they have been silly, insensible, and downright wastes of everyone's time.

I guess I should change that, now, eh?

I feel... sad.

Not from depression or some act of God, but because I feel like I failed everybody. I failed myself. I called myself a writer, a creator, and, yet, I can't get anything out of my fingers to actually make something worth reading.

It infuriates me. Really does...

I used to have that muse, that spark! But it's so... DEAD.

I miss it when people would read my work and enjoy it.

Yes, I miss some gratification. Most of all, though, I miss entertaining others.

I'm considering making a new profile on F.A., if just to shake the rust and dust off my shoulders.

~ Elijah.

It's quite fun.

Especially when you're punching something evil.

You and I are handcuffed together in the back of a cop car. Using ONLY four words what would you say to me?

Note: if you comment you must copy and paste this to your journal so I can comment on yours as well.
Be a good sport and play along. (4-word limit is hard, well not really if you are a friggin' genius!)

http://th04.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE.....is-d5g13he.jpg

"We do not harm the innocent; we are protectors of the weak, and the down-trodden. Our duty is to the Emperor, and- mostly- to his subjects. I will be damned before I let the bastards take another life!"

- Unknown Battle-Brother of the Delta Sharks.

God is it good to be back!

Eighteenth-Sword Master of the Seventh Squad, Dragon's Breath (Veterans) of the First Clan, Disciples of the Red Ink.

Yep; samurai space marine.

Coming soon.

Name: Klaus Karloff

Age: over 100 years old.

Height: 8 feet, 6 inches

Weight: 2 tons

Nastionality: Austrian

Species: human (formerly), Zombot

Temperment: sweet, calm, gentle, and timid. But can be ab engine of destruction when enraged.

- Broader than the average door frame.

- Armed with a crshing claw on right hand, flamethrower under left arm, and a gattling gun in his chest.

- Created in WW1.

- Wears a light grey trench coat, uniform, goggles, steel pot helmet and iron oxygen mask.

- Gentle Giant

....

Forgot where I was going with-

RISE AND TAKE WHAT IS YOURS!!!

I am getting a new desktop next week to replace ol'Sanguine Blade.

I already got a name for my new computer- Striker Eureka.

My laptop... It is done. No more from it. I have only my blackberry, now.

Wish to speak to mr, note me or put yourself as available on skype.

Goodnight, my old friend.

Wattpad is a free *Yes really free. I'm serious* sight where you can read free books by unrecognized/published authors.

I joined up as ElijahtheGuy, and plan to post a few things here and there.

*Lands at the foot of a flight of stairs*

... DAMMIT....

<.< That's the last time I try to rail-surf.

I'M JUST A POOR BOY FROM A POOR FAMILY

HELP ME FIND A WAY TO GET FOOD!


... <.< Seriously.

Help me get food.

I ... I try so hard. I want to be someone, I want to make good money, and I want to support my family.

But it goes away....

It turns out to be beyond my reach and I end up falling flat on my face.

This is... insanity...

Yes, this is embarrassing as fuck.

I... need help with cash. I need some money just to get the essentials for my college courses, and just to survive everyday life.

I know, I know- I should feel bad for asking for money when I offer nothing in return. I'm a bad person. I'm a WEAK person...

But I just need a hand. I'm not asking for hundreds of dollars; just, like, twenty or something.

I could make you something if you wish to "donate" or whatever.

I knwo this is wrong to do... but I don't know what else to do without a job on hand.

Again, I'm sorry. If interested, note me. I'll give my paypal...

~ Elijah.

Name: Scourge

Height: Eight feet, Five Inches Tall

Weight: One Ton

- A being of immense age (approximately ten thousand years) of power befitting a demi-god. Gargantuan stature at eight feet, five inches tall, and weight approximately a ton. Wears a suit of armor made of unknown metal. Said armor is covered in spikes. Spikes also decorate the INSIDE the armor. The "face" of the helmet has no eye holes, or any sort of defining feature.

- Believed to be a fallen angel who was bound to that armor to suffer for all eternity. Acts as a "Dark Guardian".

(Gave his innocence/angelic status to allow his sinner of a lover a place in Heaven. Now acts as a punisher across all space and time.)

~~~~~~~

Whatcha think?

"No! No!"

The scream leaves my trembling lips like the call of a dying bird. I can only see the fire consuming my beloved lab; the fools did this! Those arrogant, narrow-minded men! Electricity arches in the air from destroyed machines, and gas catches a light to further burn my home.

"Father...?"

I look back at my son, my creation. Beautiful Adam... to me, you are an Adonis of perfection. To them, though, you are but rotted flash stitched together and brought to life by unholy means. So gigantic you are and strong... but hurt you would not.

A pat to his head.

"It is alright, my boy. We must leave, my Adam."

I take his gigantic hand in mine and lead him away from the fires.

"Come... We must go!"

~~~

*Pants as he is dressed as the Monster from Mary Shelly's tale. I scream at the gathered people and swipe a hand*

I am NOT a monster! ... I AM A MAN! A MAN!!!

I need assistance my fellow Warhammerians!

<.<

>.>

My University blocks ALL sites with torrents or free downloads. INCLUDING PIratebay.

I need a PDF of the Sixth Edition Space Marine Codex. I need to be up to base.

Anybody willing to help a Brother (see what I did there?) out?

Regards,

Elijah.

*Pants softly, clothes torn and grimy with the dirt and ashes of the dead, and numerous cuts on my exposed face and arms. I carry an M1927 in my right hand, and a pack-a-punched MG08/15 light machine gun in the left. Fire axe strapped to my back and katana at my right hip, I am ready to duel.*

Alright, maggot addicts...

*Lifts up both guns as a horde of undead come charging forward*

GET SOME OF THIS!

*Unleashes a torrent of bullets and lazors*

WHAT YOU GOT, BITCHES?! WHAT YOU GOT?!?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Ash... ain't got NOTHING on me...

*Walks away to A7X's "Shepard of Fire"*

Shut your mouth.


...

My girl likes the Sailor Moon thingy majiger.

I like Ghost Rider and supernatural stuff...


... Ghost Rider x Sailor Moon...?

... I can dig it!

I fought my way to this point.

Even as I tore my fingers off, ripped my eyes out of their sockets, and cut my own throat, I went on. I was willing to fight and die to let people know I am here. I am something, someone.

I will be the man I want to be. Nothing will stop me from being the hero.

FUCK LOSING.

I came too damn far.

Well... since I like Space Marines, and making Space Marines, I dick around a lot on the Bolter and Chainsword Chapter Name Generator. I wrote down some of the names I enjoyed, and narrowed it down to (currently) three Chapters I want to work on.

1. Delta Sharks - Uber Navy SEALS

2. Penitent Knights - Black Templars, Exorcists, and Blood Angels oh my!

3. Iron Phantoms - Lost sons of Ferrus, you say?