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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years ago

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Et voici un article très bien fait pour comprendre la technique numero uno des TRAs, j'ai nommé la double contrainte, avec des outils pour la repérer et y remédier

Une "double contrainte" est un type spécial de conflit qui engendre une situation "non-gagnante"; c'est-à-dire une situation dans laquelle "vous êtes damné si vous le faites, et vous êtes damné si vous ne le faites pas".

Selon l'anthropologiste Gregory Bateson, qui le premier a défini la notion de double contrainte, ces conflits sont à l'origine à la fois de créativité et de psychose. Ce qui fait la différence, c'est d'être capable ou non d'identifier et de dépasser la contrainte de manière appropriée.

La structure essentielle de la double contrainte est la suivante : Si tu ne fais pas A, tu ne (survivras pas, ne seras pas en sécurité, n'auras pas de plaisir, etc.) Mais si tu fais A, tu ne (survivras pas, ne seras pas en sécurité, n'auras pas de plaisir, etc.)

Des doubles contraintes surviennent également dans des cadres professionnels. Considérons la situation d'une personne dont la charge de travail est devenue tellement importante qu'elle n'est plus capable d'y faire face. Faire une partie de son travail signifie qu'une autre partie ne sera pas faite. D'un autre côté, ne pas faire cette partie du travail signifie que celle-ci ne sera pas faite. Dans les deux cas, la personne ne fait pas son travail.

De nombreuses doubles contraintes ont un autre degré de complexité lorsqu'elles impliquent différents niveaux de processus qui créent un paradoxe et également un conflit. C'est-à-dire, ce que vous devez faire pour (survivre, être en sécurité, garder votre intégrité, etc.) à un niveau menace votre (survie, sécurité, intégrité, etc.) à un autre niveau.

Dans cette idée, des doubles contraintes sont liées à ce qu'on connaît actuellement sous le nom de "Catch 22". Ce terme vient du roman du même nom écrit par Joseph Heller (1961; film en 1970.) Le roman, qui se voulait une satire très dure mais pleine d'humour de la bureaucratie militaire, se situe dans une unité de l'US Air Force durant la deuxième guerre mondiale. Le roman raconte les tentatives d'un pilote nommé Yossarian pour échapper aux horreurs de la guerre. Dans ces tentatives d'échapper au combat, il se trouve mêlé à "Catch 22", un règlement mystérieux qui est par essence un argument circulaire. Yossarian découvre qu'il peut être dispensé de missions de vol s'il peut prouver qu'il est fou. Cependant, pour être dispensé du service militaire à cause de sa folie, Yossarian doit faire la demande de sa dispense. Le "piège" est que si quelqu'un demande à être dispensé, cela présuppose qu'il est sain d'esprit parce qu'aucune personne normale ne voudrait continuer à risquer sa vie. Parce qu'il ne veut pas voler, Yossarian prouve qu'il est sain d'esprit.

Les doubles contraintes partagent souvent la qualité de la circularité illustrée par "Catch 22" et conduisent à un même sens de la confusion et de l'impuissance.

Des doubles contraintes, cependant, peuvent avoir des éléments supplémentaires qui les rendent encore plus confrontantes. Les doubles contraintes les plus intenses émotionnellement surviennent dans un contexte de relations interpersonnelles importantes. Elles impliquent souvent ce qui apparaît comme un combat de pouvoir dans lequel une personne essaie de "mettre mal l'autre personne".

Résolution des doubles contraintes

Bien que les doubles contraintes soient assurément confrontantes, il est possible de s'en libérer dans certaines circonstances et avec des moyens appropriés. Se libérer d'une situation de double contrainte peut être essentiellement dû au fait de gérer chacune des "conditions" nécessaires pour produire la double contrainte. Cela implique de développer la capacité à:

1-Réduire l'intensité ou changer la nature de la relation qui provoque la double contrainte.

2-Distinguer les messages contradictoires.

3-Faire des méta-commentaires.

4-Filtrer ou neutraliser les messages négatifs d'identité.

5-Trouver un moyen de "sortir du cadre".

6-Empêcher cette situation de devenir une expérience récurrente.

1. Réduire l'intensité de la relation.

Le premier moyen que nous avons pour gérer les doubles contraintes est de tenter de réduire l'intensité de la relation. Certaines personnes essaient souvent d'accorder moins d'importance à la relation, à l'autre, ou à elles-mêmes. D'autres peuvent adopter la croyance "cela n'a pas d'importance", ou "rien n'a d'importance". Bien que ces stratégies soient efficaces jusqu'à un certain niveau pour alléger le degré de souffrance associé à une double contrainte, elles ont également des inconvénients évidents à long terme; comme de conduire à l'apathie et à la torpeur émotionnelle.

Un autre moyen de réduire "l'intensité" de la relation est de se dissocier des réactions émotionnelles.

Cependant, il s'agit à nouveau d'une solution à court terme. Rester dissocié longtemps crée d'autres types de problèmes et de symptômes.

La solution à long terme pour réduire l'intensité d'une relation "provoquant une double contrainte" est d'établir de l'indépendance émotionnelle en développant une référence interne plus solide et en acquérant un sens plus clair de sa perspective de "première position". Ceci peut se faire en identifiant et en ancrant des ressources personnelles et en exerçant une intégrité émotionnelle - par l'utilisation de phrases commençant par "je" par exemple. Une personne peut également réduire le degré de "complémentarité" dans la relation, en diminuant le "pouvoir" détenu par l'autre personne, en devenant moins dépendante d'elle. Certaines personnes "se détachent" littéralement d'une situation particulière de double contrainte.

2. Distinguer les messages contradictoires.

Une personne peut apprendre à distinguer les messages contradictoires en devenant plus consciente des incongruences dans les communications des autres. En particulier, une incongruence impliquant des "méta-messages" non verbaux. Souvent, des personnes se retrouvent confuses ou coincées simplement parce qu'elles sont incapables de détecter ces doubles messages lorsqu'elles les reçoivent.

De nombreuses doubles contraintes sont gravées dans des phrases de telle manière que la contrainte n'est pas évidente parce qu'elle est présupposée et non clairement émise dans la "structure de surface" verbale de la phrase. Ce type de phrases est ce que j'appelle un "virus de pensée". Considérons une phrase comme "L'espoir fait mal". Si l'on adopte cette croyance, on se met dans une position de choix entre le désespoir ou la souffrance. Aucun des deux n'est désirable. Cette double contrainte n'est cependant pas énoncée clairement dans les paroles mêmes. Il s'agit plutôt d'une conséquence sous-entendue de l'acceptation de cette affirmation.

Un exemple classique de ce type de virus de pensée provoquant une double contrainte est le commentaire d'un médecin à une patiente qui est à un stade avancé d'un cancer du sein. Ce médecin lui a dit que son cancer avait dépassé le stade au-delà duquel la médecine peut être efficace. La patiente désire à présent explorer des méthodes de guérison alternatives qui peuvent lui offrir d'autres choix. Entendant cela, le médecin dit "Si vous vous préoccupez réellement de votre famille, vous ne les abandonnerez pas démunis". La double contrainte présupposée par la phrase est que vous devez choisir entre (a) "vous préoccuper de votre famille" en baissant les bras et en les préparant à votre mort; et (b) nuire potentiellement à votre famille et agir égoïstement en essayant d'aller mieux. A nouveau, aucune des deux options n'est désirable.

Une autre difficulté dans le tri des messages et des injonctions contradictoires qui créent des doubles contraintes est que l'un des messages, comme Bateson l'a souligné, est à un niveau "plus abstrait" que l'autre. Apprendre à lire ou à reconnaître ces messages "de niveau plus élevé" implique la capacité à mieux calibrer et interpréter les schémas de communication des autres personnes. Cela implique également la conscience qu'il existe, en fait, différents niveaux de communication. Affiner sa capacité à faire la distinction entre les messages adressés à différents niveaux de notre expérience (environnement, comportement, capacités, croyances, valeurs et identité) peut automatiquement aider à repérer les différents niveaux des messages. Comme Bateson l'a souligné, de nombreux problèmes dans la communication et dans l'interaction sont la conséquence de l'échec à reconnaître qu'il existe de multiples niveaux d'expérience, et la confusion ou le choc de différents niveaux de communication ou d'expérience qui en résultent doivent être distingués.

Le niveau auquel un message particulier s'adresse est souvent communiqué par différents méta-messages non verbaux. Considérons par exemple les différentes implications dans les messages suivants:

"Tu ne devrais pas faire cela ici."

Basé sur le placement de l'inflexion de la voix, le message prend différentes implications selon le niveau particulier d'intensité. Tu (identité) ne devrais pas (croyances/valeurs) faire (capacité) cela (comportement) ici (environnement). C'est l'absence ou la présence de ces méta-messages qui détermine souvent comment un message est interprété, et s'il sera ou pas interprété de manière appropriée. Par exemple, si une figure d'autorité dit "TU n'as pas respecté les règles", c'est beaucoup plus comme un message sur l'identité. Si la personne dit "Tu n'as pas respecté les REGLES", alors elle met moins l'accent sur l'identité de l'individu que sur le niveau du comportement.

Faire des méta-commentaires

Distinguer des messages contradictoires, et reconnaître qu'il existe différents niveaux d'injonctions, peut amener naturellement à formuler des méta-commentaires. En commentant simplement l'incongruence que l'on observe, les injonctions contradictoires que l'on reçoit, et la confusion correspondante que l'on ressent, on est déjà naturellement en train de faire de la méta-communication - c'est-à-dire, communiquer à propos de la communication que l'on reçoit, ou à propos de la double contrainte que l'on expérimente.

Il est important que la méta-communication à propos de la double contrainte ne soit pas une accusation, mais plutôt une reconnaissance honnête de l'expérience de quelqu'un. Une structure de base pour une méta-communication à propos d'une double contrainte serait:

"Je suis dans une double contrainte à propos de X."

"Si je ne fais pas X, je me sens "mal" parce que

"Si je fais X, je me sens "mal" parce que

Poser la simple question suivante, "Que se passe-t-il dans notre relation?" peut aider à stimuler une métacognition et une méta-communication à propos d'une relation ou d'une interaction. Une autre conséquence importante des méta-commentaires est qu'ils peuvent rendre le "coupable" de la double contrainte plus conscient de ses messages incongruents. Ceux qui mettent les autres dans des doubles contraintes ne sont souvent pas conscients de leurs propres injonctions contradictoires. Parfois, être confronté à ses propres doubles messages entame un processus de changement chez une personne qui les envoie.

4. Filtrer et neutraliser les messages négatifs d'identité.

L'un des outils des plus importants pour la gestion des doubles contraintes est peut-être la capacité à filtrer et à neutraliser les messages négatifs d'identité (la "troisième" injonction dans la double contrainte.) Tout comme la capacité à détecter les incongruences dans une communication, cela implique de pouvoir distinguer les différents niveaux d'expérience. Une présupposition de base de la PNL, par exemple, est qu'il est important de séparer l'identité du comportement. L'un des éléments fondamentaux contribuant à la pathologie de la double contrainte semble être la relation entre des comportements particuliers et l'identité; à la fois du côté du "créateur" de la double contrainte, et du côté de sa "victime".

Une double contrainte est un exemple classique de la phrase d'Albert Einstein qui dit "on ne peut résoudre un problème avec le même type (niveau) de pensée que celui qui crée le problème." Donc, une échappatoire à une double contrainte est de distinguer et ensuite "sauter" les niveaux logiques. Lorsque cela se produit, plutôt que d'être une source de pathologie, une double contrainte devient une source de créativité et même d'enrichissement.

Comme exemple d'application du principe d'Einstein aux doubles contraintes, Bateson cite une anecdote de la méditation Zen. Un maître Zen prend un bâton et le donne à l'un de ses étudiants en disant "Si tu dis que ce bâton est réel, je te frapperai avec. Si tu dis que ce bâton n'est pas réel, je te battrai avec. Est-il réel ou pas?" Aussi longtemps que l'étudiant reste au même niveau de pensée que son maître a utilisé pour créer la double contrainte, il est coincé. Si l'étudiant lève simplement les bras et saisit le bâton, commence à chanter, ramasse son propre bâton et prétend "se battre à l'épée", etc. il a transcendé la double contrainte et a changé le contexte de la relation.

5. Trouver un moyen de "sortir du cadre".

L'une des choses les plus frustrantes et pénibles dans les doubles contraintes provient de la "troisième injonction négative" qui empêche de s'échapper de la situation. Même si quelqu'un peut résoudre le reste de la situation de double contrainte, être capable de "sortir du cadre" peut souvent offrir assez de soulagement pour empêcher la situation de devenir intolérable. Avoir "un ailleurs" peut aider considérablement à soulager le sentiment de désespoir associé aux doubles contraintes.

Parfois, des personnes découvrent que rien ne les empêche réellement d'échapper physiquement à la situation. Au lieu de cela, ils sont prisonniers de leurs propres croyances, ou les limites de leur carte du monde. En se souvenant simplement qu'ils peuvent partir, qu'ils peuvent avoir d'autres choix, des personnes peuvent souvent s'extirper des aspects les plus insupportables d'une situation de double contrainte.

Un autre moyen de "sortir du cadre" est la dissociation mentale, qui implique de se mettre dans une "position d'observateur" ou "méta-position" par rapport à la relation. En PNL, une méta-position implique la capacité à se trouver à l'extérieur ou au-delà de soi-même, regardant non seulement ses propres actions mais également ses interactions avec d'autres personnes, comme si on regardait un film ou une vidéo. Cela donne une chance à la personne d'avoir une perspective différente ou de trouver un contexte qui ne peut pas être touché par la situation de double contrainte.

6. Empêcher la situation de devenir une expérience récurrente.

Une manière d'empêcher la "situation" de double contrainte de devenir une "expérience" récurrente est de développer des stratégies pour compartimenter ou isoler les situations de double contrainte - c'est-à-dire, distinguer les situations de double contrainte comme des "événements" au lieu de les percevoir comme une généralisation du sort ou de "l'identité" de quelqu'un. Comme avec les autres outils de gestion des doubles contraintes, ceci implique de distinguer les niveaux d'expérience. Un "événement" est un comportement qui survient dans un environnement particulier: un quoi dans un quand et un où particuliers. Percevoir quelque chose comme une expérience récurrente ou un schéma de vie impliquerait sa généralisation au niveau des croyances et de l'identité: à qui et pourquoi. Les personnes qui ont vécu des situations de double contrainte dans leur vie mais qui ont été capables de ne pas être trop affectées par ces situations les percevront comme "quelque chose qui m'est arrivé comme d'autres événements difficiles dans ma vie" plutôt que comme "quelque chose qui a changé qui je suis". Faire cela implique des capacités à "découper vers le bas" (tri par détails plutôt que par généralités) et "se désaccorder" (envisager les différences plutôt que les ressemblances).

La meilleure manière probable d'empêcher une situation de double contrainte de devenir une expérience récurrente, cependant, est de développer et d'appliquer des capacités qui aident à diffuser et transformer des doubles contraintes.

Doubles contraintes thérapeutiques

Une fois que l'on a maîtrisé les éléments de la double contrainte, on peut même commencer à créer des "doubles contraintes thérapeutiques" ou positives. Une double contrainte (positive ou négative) est plus fonction des significations ou des conséquences de comportement que des comportements eux-mêmes. Dans une double contrainte négative, l'objectif d'entreprendre une action spécifique ou d'éviter cette action est négatif ou nuisible. Dans une double contrainte positive, le résultat est positif ou précieux. Au lieu de "mettre mal" une personne, une double contrainte thérapeutique la "met bien", quoi qu'elle fasse, c'est-à-dire, au lieu d'être damné si vous le faites, et damné si vous ne le faites pas, vous "avez un bénéfice si vous le faites, et avez un bénéfice si vous ne le faites pas". Comme exemple de double contrainte thérapeutique dans The Structure of Magic Volume I (1975), les fondateurs de la PNL Bandler et Grinder racontent le cas d'une femme de l'un de leurs groupes de thérapie qui déclarait: "Je ne peux jamais dire non à quelqu'un." Bandler et Grinder lui recommandèrent alors, "Vous devez dire non à chaque personne de ce groupe." La femme devait soit dire non aux membres du groupe soit dire non à Bandler et Grinder, c'est-à-dire dépasser sa croyance limitante dans chaque cas.

Remarquez que dans ce type de double contrainte thérapeutique, comme dans les doubles contraintes pathologiques, la "seconde injonction" est à un niveau différent de l'injonction primaire et n'est pas directement verbalisée. L'injonction primaire est à un niveau comportemental: "Vous dites 'non' à chaque personne du groupe." L'injonction secondaire - Ou bien vous devez, en fait, dire 'non' à la tâche de dire 'non'" - est à un niveau supérieur et est communiquée par une présupposition.

Conclusion

Les doubles contraintes sont un phénomène difficile mais courant qui peuvent être à la fois source d'enrichissement et de créativité ou de stress et même de symptômes psychologiques sévère, selon le type de contrainte et les ressources que l'on est capable de mobiliser pour y faire face. En comprenant la structure profonde des doubles contraintes pathologiques, il est possible de développer des outils et des stratégies pour les dépasser ou les transformer. Il est également possible de construire des doubles contraintes positives ou "thérapeutiques" qui aident les gens à atteindre des objectifs désirés plutôt que créer de l'anxiété.

#Gender critical #Psychologie #Passion PNL #Enfin pas le groupe hein

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blog59-world · 3 years ago

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Marie-lyne Bezille 6 min ·

Un conseil de lecture pour les admirateurs du Z ! Le Peuple des humains Sur les traces génétiques des migrations, métissages et adaptations Date de parution : 6 octobre 2021 D’où venons-nous ? Que sommes-nous ? Où allons-nous ? C’est à ces questions universelles que répond ce livre. Lluís Quintana-Murci, biologiste franco-espagnol de renommée mondiale, nous convie à un grand voyage dans le temps et dans l’espace à la recherche de nos origines et de notre destinée. Il se fonde sur les outils puissants qu’offrent les sciences les plus récentes pour déchiffrer nos génomes et explorer leur diversité à travers les populations humaines, non seulement celles d’aujourd’hui, mais aussi, grâce aux vestiges fossiles, celles d’hier. Il retrace l’extraordinaire histoire du peuplement humain à travers le monde : de la sortie d’Afrique il y a plus de 60 000 ans au peuplement de la Polynésie il y a juste quelques millénaires. Il établit l’existence d’espèces humaines éteintes, révèle comment les populations humaines se sont constamment métissées entre elles, mais aussi avec des humains archaïques, comme l’homme de Neandertal. Nous sommes tous des métis. Il montre que c’est ce métissage même, y compris celui avec les humains archaïques, qui a contribué à la survie des humains, notamment face aux pathogènes, et notamment aux virus ! Toutefois, l’héritage néandertalien qui est en nous peut parfois se révéler délétère… et même affaiblir notre immunité face au Covid-19 ! Un livre pionnier et magistral. Lluís Quintana-Murci, généticien, est professeur au Collège de France où il occupe la chaire de Génomique humaine et évolution. Il dirige l’unité de Génétique évolutive humaine à l’Institut Pasteur, dont il a été directeur scientifique en 2016-2017, et il est membre de l’Académie des sciences. Sa spécialité est l’étude de la diversité du génome à travers les populations humaines et sa relation avec les maladies infectieuses.

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cc-fgohan · 4 years ago

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Info // last edited on: 6 Sep 2020

OOC Info (includes rules, contact info, rp status, and other blogs,)

Links (to come): About | Threads | Tags

Name: Future Gohan (Mirai no Gohan) Aliases: Gohan Miraison, Han(s) Songo, Hans Gruber, Mira, Mirai

Race: Half-Saiyan Gender: Male Date of Birth: May 4, Age 757 Height: 5'11" (180 cm) Weight: 134 lbs (61 kg) Allegiance: Z Warriors Address: (Future) Earth Occupation: martial artist, vigilante

Appearance

orange turtle school gi (with ‘Han’ kanji symbol on back), dark blue undershirt, wristbands, belt, and boots

office worker uniform with thick black glasses; white shirt, black belt, grey pants, black leather shoes (while undercover in the past)

Kai Uniform (when visiting the Sacred World of the Kais)

Personality: a mix of canon, TFS DBZAbridged, and my own spin on the character

Biography: the same as canon Future Gohan, but with some changes and explanations to become canon for him which include:

Cooler arrives on Earth after Goku kills Frieza and King Cold

Yajirobe does not give Gohan an extra sensu bean before he leaves Korin Tower

Gohan transforms into a Super Saiyan after Icarus is killed from protecting him

In a Super Saiyan Rage, Gohan rips Cooler’s tail and limbs off except one arm, allowing him to charge up a Supernova. He then sends Cooler into the sun with a Hyper Masenko

Salza sneak attacks Gohan with a ki blade while his guard is down, giving Gohan his scar. He is finished off by Piccolo like in the movie.

Sometime later, Cooler merges with the Big Geti Star and takes over New Namek, all the dragon clan Namekians are killed in the process (meaning no more dragon balls).

Hoi visits Earth and with the assistance of the Z Warriors, opens a sealed music box with a wish from the dragonballs, releasing the demon Hirudigarn and the Konatsa-jin hero Minosha.

Gohan and Minosha share a brotherly bond similar to Trunks and Tapion

Gohan is forced to kill Minosha with his sword in order to kill Hirudigarn with him

He inherits Minosha’s Sword and later passes it on to Trunks

Goku dies from a heart virus

Bulma is pregnant but is unsure who the father is. Yamcha fights Vegeta and self destructs as a last resort, it fails as bad as Choutzu’s did against Nappa

Trunks is Bulma and Yamcha’s son (instead of Vegeta’s)

The Z Warriors (except Vegeta) all teach their techniques to Gohan before they are killed by the Androids

AU-FT-verse // default verse

Future Trunks is killed (instead of Gohan losing his arm) during their first battle against the Androids years later

Future Gohan takes the role of Future Trunks in the past, and trains with Piccolo in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber to prepare against Cell

AU-Cell-verse // Alternate canon Cell’s Timeline

Future Gohan does not lose his arm or die against the Androids

Future Trunks retrieves blueprints from the past, allowing Future Bulma to create a remote to deactivate them, the Androids are destroyed after.

Cell kills Trunks and steals his time machine when he prepares to make another trip to the past

Future Bulma builds another time machine and sends Future Gohan to the same past to investigate

other au (ideas) include:

DBZ-RS-Krilling: based on sample rp fan manga from here

Xeno Gohan: takes the role of Xeno Trunks instead

Future Gohan Black: Future Gohan is turned evil because of his potential (body swapped by Ginyu/Zamasu, mind taken over by Babidi/Towa)

Bebi / Majin / Buu Absorbed / Time Breaker Future Gohan

Techniques & Special Abilities

Masenko (and Hyper Masenko)

Kamehameha (and Fierce Combination)

Special Beam Cannon (learned from Piccolo)

Burning Attack and Finish Buster (learned from Future Trunks)

Energy Dome (Evil Barrier)

Solar Flare (learned from Krillin)

Super Saiyan

Tri Beam // ttaught by Tien)

Wolf Fang Fist and Spirit Ball // taught by Yamcha

Destructo Disk, Homing Energy Wave, Kakusandan // taught by Krillin

Light Grenade, Hellzone Grenade, Super Explosive Wave // taught by Piccolo of the past

Super Saiyan (Second Grade, Third Grade): achieved in the first day/year of HBTC

Super Saiyan (Full Power / Mastered): achieved in the second day/year of of HBTC after seeing Goku/Gohan do it

and eventually:

Super Saiyan 2 // achieved through rage)

Super Saiyan 3 // achieved through training

Potential Unleashed (Ultimate Future Gohan / Chou Mirai no Gohan): achieved through training then breaking the Z Sword and getting his potential unlocked by the Elder Kaioshin

Super Saiyan God (// through absorbing godly ki from Beerus, or wish from dragonballs, no ritual)

Super Saiyan Blue // through training with Whis

Ultra Instinct (Omen, Controlled)

Trivia

The AU-Cell-verse of Future Gohan is based on the one I RP(ed) as on Dragon Ball Summit // please feel free to mention me as a referral if you wish to join the site, looking for a Future Trunks on there!

Themes

The Beginning (ONE OK ROCK) // romantic, towards Videl/au partner]

Clock Strikes (ONE OK ROCK) // platonic, towards Future Trunks, friends, and family

EMIYA (Fate Kaleid Movie) // Battle Theme 1 vs Androids

Dragonball Super - Ultra Instinct Rush (PokéMixr92’s HQ Recreation) // Battle Theme 2 vs Androids

Dragon Ball Super ED 8: Boogie Back (Megami33 of TFS; Future Bulma Version)

#tw : long post

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braincoins · 5 years ago

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Okay so, at this point, I have no freaking clue if I’ll get this done by Halloween, esp. since I’ll be in Walt Disney World for a week, BUT just so y’all know what I’m working on.

Take Max Brooks’ World War Z. Take Mira Grant/ @seananmcguire‘s Newsflesh series. Mix them together. That’s the AU I dropped our beloved characters into this creepy season. Possibly best summed up (right now, at least), as:

Lance: YOU WERE A ZOMBIE?!?! Shiro: ... ... I got better.

and of course you know it’ll be shallura ‘cause I continue to have needs

Anyway, I started work on it before Happy Fun Radiation Times began to kick my ass (I still have two more treatments [groan]), came back today, re-read and did a quick editing pass on what I had, and started adding to it. Teaser.. rather long teaser, actually, sorry ‘bout that, below the cut:

They were devolving into their own squabbles and dirty comments, and she felt herself bristling. She cleared her throat and yelled above the chaos, “INFECTED CAN BE CURED!”

They all stopped dead and looked at her.

“Bullshit. Bullshit,” the one-eyed one said again for emphasis. “You can’t cure a zombie with anything ‘cept a bullet.”

“You can’t cure a zombie,” she agreed, “but you can cure an Infected. They act differently than zombies do AND they are, just barely, still alive. What kills Infected – outside of bullets – is starvation and malnutrition, exposure to the elements, occasionally another illness they had before being turned that isn’t being treated, or an injury that festers – most often the very bite wound that turned them. Because they mainly bite and tear off a chunk, eat that, and move on. THEIR bite transmits the virus that creates more Infected.

“Once an Infected dies, they become a true zombie, and true zombies just eat. They don’t care about leaving the target alive to spread the disease, but a virus wants to be spread. That’s what the Infected do: spread the virus.

“Technically, being bitten by a zombie is only dangerous in the sense of the bacterial transmission from their mouths, same as a normal, living human, only probably much worse due to the lack of oral hygiene and the rather…carnivorous diet.” She cleared her throat. “Only the Infected spread the zombie virus, and if you can find one, they can be cured.”

Silence reigned until the young girl spoke up again. “You’re saying they can be cured. Are you talking theoretically or…?”

Allura smiled and raised her voice a little to call, “Captain.”

The door opened to admit a young man her age in a white t-shirt, gray hoodie & sweatpants, and standard issue shoes. He would have blended into any crowd and disappeared were it not for his handsome good looks and broad shoulders… and the strange shock of white hair, the angry scar over his nose, and the fact that he was missing his right arm. (Though in the aftermath of the Z War, missing a limb wasn’t all that uncommon.) He walked over to stand next to her, door closing behind him, and cleared his throat.

“My name is Takashi Shirogane,” he said. “I’m… I was a captain in the Air Force. And… I used to be Infected.”

Everyone in the room jumped up with shouts of “bullshit” and “lies” and “hoax,” save for a young man with dark hair who just stared at him.

“I TORE A LITTLE GIRL’S LARYNX OUT!” he yelled at them.

They shut up again, and sat down.

Allura winced and laid a hand on his arm. “Shiro, you don’t have to…”

He pulled away from her and continued to glare at them. “WITH MY TEETH. And it felt right, it felt good, it felt like exactly what I should be doing! Do you know what it’s like, to be cured now and to still have the memory of her blood in my mouth? NO, YOU DON’T!”

The tears ran down his cheeks but he continued, “I was bitten on the right arm. My buddies cut it off to try to save me. It didn’t work. The virus moves fast. Most of the rest of my scars are after I turned. Even some of my hair went white. I don’t know how that happened.

“I bashed my head through a glass window to try to get at some people. That’s where I got this,” he traced the scar across his nose. “I didn’t care that I was bleeding. I only had one thought: Bite. Bite. It wasn’t even ‘feed,’ it was bite and that was all I cared about. It was the only thing I cared about. To me, humans weren’t human. Or maybe they were, but they weren’t like me. They were things to bite, to feel the tear of skin and the gush of blood. THAT’S ALL.” He hung his head. “That’s all I could think about.”

Allura pushed herself forward to take over the narrative again. “We found him when he was still recently turned. As you can tell, he hadn’t lost much muscle mass yet. He hadn’t started to deteriorate. There may be a point at which we can’t turn them back, where they’re too far gone physically to survive being cured.”

“Look, what do you want from us?” the one-eyed man said quietly.

“I want a few people from your unit to come help us in the field. And I have something to offer in exchange.”

“What’s that?”

She held up the small, sleek, thin silver box with a dish antenna the size of a large man’s hand attached to it. “This is…”

“…an iPod. I haven’t seen one of those in ages,” the young girl said.

“…a scanner,” she continued as if the interruption hadn’t happened. “And yes, we used iPods; we were able to get our hands on a lot of them, and they were easy to convert.” She cleared her throat. “This can correctly tell you who’s a zombie and who’s Infected, as well as who’s a living breathing human.” She set it down on the desk. “And these,” she picked up what looked like a smoke grenade, “are filled with the cure in gaseous form.”

“Uhhh,” said a large young man near the back, “doesn’t that just make a bunch of normal humans around a bunch of zombies? I mean, if what you’re saying is true…”

“Well, yes, but that’s why you use the scanner to find and take out the zombies first. The cure won’t work on them. The cure is nothing but smoke to us – which we will cough and choke on, like any other smoke – and to the zombies, but they don’t breathe, so they won’t care. The Infected will cough and choke and fall to the ground. Then they start having seizures, but once the air clears, they’re mostly cured.”

“Mostly,” repeated one of them. It was the young dark-haired man who’d been staring at Shiro since he’d walked in.

“Mostly,” she agreed with a nod. “Shoot them then with this,” she pulled out a small dart, “and they’ll be fully cured. The gaseous form starts the cure, but it’s not enough to cure them usually: it’s too diffuse. This is concentrated, and it’ll finish the work the gas started. It can also work on its own, if you only have a single Infected to deal with, but for large crowds, the cannister will work better.”

“Do you remember being cured?” the young girl asked Shiro. She seemed very intent upon this and upon him.

His brow furrowed. “I remember seizing up. I was shot with the tranq dart, not gassed, and as an Infected, you don’t really feel pain. I knew I was bleeding badly when I got this,” he pointed to the scar over his nose again, “but it didn’t hurt, and I didn’t care that I was bleeding. I was just aware of it. So I was aware of a poke, but then when I started seizing that was when things changed. I was… scared. For the first time in a long time, I was scared of what was happening to me, and then there was pain again, and I was screaming.” He closed his eyes. “I thought I was dying, and I was glad. I was glad I was dying and that was when I realized something had changed because I hadn’t felt good about anything except biting people in weeks. Everything went dark, and when I woke up, I was in a bed in a room. I mean, I guess it was technically a cell: I couldn’t open the door from the inside. But there was a window at the top, no glass, just some bars, and I yelled for some water. And food. And that’s when I realized I was… me again. Or at least more me than I had been.”

Allura broke in again. “We monitored him for weeks. Took samples. He reads fully human, slightly malnourished.”

“I still think this is all bullshit. How do we know any of this is true?”

“I was there.”

Everyone turned to look at dark-haired young man who had spoken.

“I was there right after he was bit and we had to…”

“Keith?” Shiro moved around the desk towards him. “Is that really you?”

“Is that really you?” he shot back at him. “I saw you get bit, I helped hold you down while we cut your arm off... if you’re really Shiro.”

Shiro stopped and considered that. “Ask.”

“How old are you?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’d say I’m twenty-five; you’d say I’m six and a quarter ‘cause you’re a fucking brat and I’m a leap year baby.” He grinned.

She thought Keith might have stopped breathing. “How’d you meet me?”

“They sent me to your school to recruit the kids about to graduate. You gave me a hard time because you hate authority, but you wanted to fly, I could see it in your eyes, I could almost feel it. And the first time you got in the simulator, you blew everyone away. You even beat my top score. You wanted to fly, you wanted the thrill of it, and you had natural goddamn talent. So I convinced you…”

“…that putting up with the bullshit was worth being able to fly the sort of planes I could only get my hands on in the USAF.”

Shiro smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Keith.”

And Keith launched himself out of the old school desk and into a hug that Shiro returned instantly. “You were dead.”

“I was mostly dead. Turns out mostly dead is slightly alive.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with your cheesy movie quotes.”

“But you caught it.”

“You made me watch it like a dozen times.” Keith sniffled against Shiro’s chest.

Allura looked around at them. “Convinced yet?”

#Shalluroween #dunno if that's a thing #don't care #socks TRIES to write more Voltron fanfic but it's really hard when you're constantly sleeping or puking

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sockablock · 7 years ago

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VMZAU ft. Friends and Family

I touched on them a bit before, but here’s more on the wonderful NPCs and Guest Stars for the Zombie AU!

Taryon Darrington, who I touched on before; son of a prominent local figure and absolutely seedy bastard who runs off to Emon (he’s rich, he can afford that kind of thing) to write a novel and kill a bunch of zombies; gets in way over his head; eventually tries to “hire” Vox Machina to protect him and they sort of do that in a way; proves himself not to his father, but to himself; and when he gets kidnapped the Boner Squad follows him to Wildemount which is absolutely fraught with infected, you thought Tal’Dorei was bad well this is Ground Zero baby; eventually settles everything with his family; as mentioned before is followed around by a little trash-can sized robot named Doty, who is equipped with a First Aid Kit, Captain’s Log, and pistol; Tary is surprisingly good with computers and technology and that will absolutely come into play at a later date

Shaun Gilmore, as a boy received a scholarship from Emon’s prestigious Alabaster Lyceum—which had teamed up with the govt. to recruit students for the sciences—left his small hometown in Marquet to major in Cell Biology (and absolutely minored in Drama); because of strict travel regulations thanks to the virus and all that, hasn’t been able to get back home; graduated with high marks and was hired by the government to work towards a cure and due to his resourcefulness and appetite for adventure, was assigned to field research; in his spare time likes to mess around with chemistry and rumor has it in his sophomore year he got wildly drunk at a party and on a dare he disappeared for a while, came back with a crate of beakers, and proceeded to spend the next hour melting a hole through the floor of his buddy’s dorm room

Dr. Allura Vysoren, adjunct professor at the Lyceum and head of the field team; had been retired for a bit having already accomplished quite a bit already (see: Forbes 30 under 30) and was content to just keep teaching and maybe write a bit; old enough to remember life before the outbreak but young enough to not remember much about it; bumps into Vox Machina on the outskirts of Emon and makes a deal with them: they bring back Kima (”In that peculiar van of yours”) and she’ll get them into the city; is endeared and exasperated by the antics of the Gang, ends up being really good at using a gun

Lady Kima, acquired that nickname at a young age when she told a sneering older guy to “fight her,” to which he replied “a lady can’t fight,” to which she responded to by punching him in the throat and saying, “Yeah? Well this lady can, and so can the rest of us;” was originally from Westruun where she was part of the church of Bahamut; though spent a lot of her free time roughhousing and worked part-time as a bouncer; also in True Lesbian Fashion spent some time around the lumberyards and (like Grog) became rather handy with an axe; one day she decided to travel a bit, safety be damned, where she met up with Allura and Thordak Shenanigans (which I will probably get into later) ensued; was re-hired by Allura again in the current story to be be extra muscle for her and Gilmore’s team

Zhara Hydris, member of the Slayer’s Take, a Vasselheim-based “Extermination” Guild that claims to specialize in wrangling the living infected and killing off the dead ones; proud owner of a Troubled Past but still quite compassionate; despite a cold start quickly takes a liking to Vex and the two get up to Antics; also a deft hand with guns and gives Keyleth and Intro to Explosives as Scanlan looks on; first run-in with the Gang is shortly after Kraghammer, where they find out they accidentally messed with Zhara and Kashaw’s contract from that city’s officials and need to make it up to them

Kashaw Vesh, another trained field medic who recently joined up with the Slayer’s Take and was assigned to the Kraghammer mission with Zhara; Cannot Believe he has to deal with these assholes and has to get crammed into the van with them (”Z, why can’t we just walk?” , “When we can ride?”) ends up stabilizing Vex after her Close Call (tm) when the Vax revelation happens; looks like he can kill you and will kill you unless you happen to be one of the assholes he finds himself really liking against his wishes; kisses Keyleth and doesn’t regret it per say, but is sorry he stole it from her; also Good at Weapons

Dr. Dranzel, not a real doctor but absolutely a real musician; for some reason his violin is always in great condition despite the fact that he’s literally wandering through the wilderness all the time; does play music but absolutely also smuggles weapons and drugs; when Scanlan says “I got a guy,” this is the guy; is always happy to expand his troupe and it’s a miracle they haven’t died yet

Kaylie Shorthalt, daughter of Sybil and Some Asshat, finds Scanlan in a tavern in Emon and immediately challenges him to a musician-off; once the whole revelation thing happens she takes some time off to reconcile the asshole she meets vs. the asshole she always knew he was; eventually decides to give him a chance; when he leaves the group she goes with him; headstrong and Takes No Shit; absolutely not straight and nobody can convince me otherwise, I mean look at her dad for Pelor’s sake

I’m really tired so I probably missed someone important (like Cassandra, fuck, I’ll do her once I figure out more of what happens in Whitestone), but let me know if there’s anyone else that’s really important! As always, the tag is #VMZAU, and i am absolutely immersed in this story now

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michelgrimard-blog · 3 years ago

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Un nouvel artiste Français peu connu que je vous présente.

DADADIDIERDODU

DADADIDIERDODU nous explique sa démarche comme suit :’’En me basant sur une partie de la thèse de MG, je test la rétroaction monochrome en m’inspirant du phénomène physique de la persistance rétinienne qui comme tout le monde sait, génère la complémentaire, provoquant du même coup un nuage subtil de vibrations alternatives, sur la surface! L‘expérience ici, est sous la forme d’un gaz vert qui en théorie devrait produire du rouge!

J’ai truqué un peu les résultats pour avantager DADADIDIERDODU alors me suis trouvé un Dany Laferrière qui commence son texte avec des pommes!

Le vert, La pomme…

https://www.lapresse.ca/debats/opinions/2021-07-07/lettre-de-dany-laferriere/haiti-la-machine-a-tuer.php

Explications!

La moitié de l’explication vient de l’auteur choisi et donnée en public que j’ai écouté et pas vous si vous la savez pas et l’autre c mon code du gros bon sens.

Son code à lui, je valide la pertinence disons. Perso et institutions tiens!

Je touche pas à ce qui se change pas selon moi et la nature de la provocation est un point de vue perso basé sur des faits que j’ai amplifiés outrageusement pour me faire rire first pis si vous aussi je fais 2 coups dans un, assorti d’un jeu de liens et rappels dans l’imagerie des symboles.

J’ai pitché du baveux perso et j’ai obtenu du perso qui parle d’institutions donc en théorie qui devrait être un écho équivalent en pertinence selon mon choix de réponses si on veut!

Je trouve mon vert super mais pas certain qu’on va aller vers un super univers avec ça. Et la force supérieure va me donner aussi ces vibes en rouge qui n’auront de sens pour moi que si je les considère!

Dépendant de mon impact gravitationnel ou la valeur ajoutée ou les 2, je boost ses propos qui sont plus porteurs que les miens si je ne les ai pas provoqué.

Mon utilité aura été celle de Hé Ho! Check ça pour les tartes aux pommes ou pour des points de vues moins populaires qui expliquent des choses pointée par la réaction que j'ai choisie.

Y fait Hé Ho check ça comme moi aussi dans le fond!

.................................................

Je lis:'' Haïti face a un vide politique''

Y savent pus quoi haïr ?

Quand on est rendu expert du chaos, ça entre dans un de mes registres de l'absurde.

Il y a souvent un lien entre le niveau d'éducation et la nature des conflits que j'ai écris sur FB.

En ai rencontré une tonne de races dans le monde matériel ..noirs, juifs, libanais, latinos, asiatique...toujours été des échanges corrects et c'est seulement quand les idéologies sont entrées dans ça que ça a fucké! Le physiologique exprime l'esprit, probable.

.................................................

Si m’éloigne pas trop du mood vodou ambiant, et le lie avec ma thématique FaceBook, je dirais que les noirs sont les récepteurs les plus réactifs à la force universelle.

Ce que ça donne comme démonstration, c’est une ferveur religieuse très prononcée et le jazz si transposé dans un code artistique (si c'est les 2 on nomme ça un ''doublon'' et la croix est bien petite face aux virus!) ainsi que les épreuves correspondantes quand la force veut obtenir un autre type de réaction.

La raison est que le ''courant'' passe direct car ya pas assez de libre arbitre en général, pour le masquer. Ça en fait de bons sujets d'hypnose ou client héroïnomane génial!

Têtes de radio!

Yello - The Rhythm Divine

À qui la faute m'intéresse moins que les causes, les effets, utilités et fonctions alors ceci étant dit, les prédicateurs exploitent cette capacité d'hypnose et le hic est que le fidèle en trance rencontre vraiment ''dieu'' mais le hic du hic est que son code identitaire est détenue par des institutions avec les effets liées. C'est festival Romero dans la vraie vie, au Canada pour les ''effets'' avec les congrégations religieuses!

Ce qui était à la base universel devient une affaire de, c'est le miens pas le tiens. Le contraire des arts, du moins le mien qui utilisent le personnel pour tenter d'y trouver de l'universel!

Inversement juste pour rigoler, le cliché de l’administrateur type avide de rentable, c’est pas rare d’en voir avec une intuition qui peine à rivaliser avec celle d'un pneu!

IIs administrent notre futur!

Si le jazz créé de la beauté (c pas vendu d’avance!) en théorie selon la symétrie, il devrait détruire du laid qui n’arrive pas à son niveau.

Pas nécessairement jazz mais l'obstacle qui est celui de l'auteur cède!

Le ‘’Try walking in my shoes’, de Depeche Mode

C’est une hypothèse.

La force vive c'est tout!

C'est avec quoi je ''négocie'' en + et - ou me guide. Comme les vôtres mais à mon échelle donc c pas mes intérêts savoir si oui ou non qui est + ou -.

Libarté, Libarté! Je suis manipulé moi aussi mais je le sais et fais pas juste dire ça! J'utilise aussi!

La civilisation nous a donné un confort, au prix de...et certains gains sociaux mais en dessous, tout est pareil. Une affaire de plus forts!

La raison pour moi est un élixir d'une des parties du tout mais sans contact avec force vive, ce n'est plus un gain!

C'est un obstacle!

Rien de pire que les fous qui gèrent avec des cervelles inférieures à celle d'une fougère (une vibe captée ici!!) dont le seul mérite est de faire partie d'une fédération de caves...

...des cons fédérés!!

Ca donne une gagne de débranchés power party bien pensants! Pas moyen de passé a coté! Si tu veux savoir le mood d'une société observes ses idéaux via les icones populaires.

Quand je fais pas ishhhh sur les idéaux dénaturés, mes célébrations moi, c'est mes trouvailles, des Wow pis des O sur le monde dans lequel je vis. J‘ai 2 microscopes pour valider cette affirmation!

Des animaux dénaturés, habituellement, c'est cons en tabarnak!

Ils n'ont plus accès au plus gros ordi central de tout les temps pis y leur en reste juste une partie pour percevoir le monde.

Presque une insulte pour mon babouin dans le jus d'orange (FB) , d'être comparé à Trump!

Changer l'élixir en poison c simple! Tu le débranches du tout!

Et un débranché ben...

En général, ça bouge pas beaucoup...

... pis ça pense pas beaucoup!

Du moins, c'est ce que je pense.

Moi par exemple, je suis débranché du débranché alors je pense comme un débranché du débranché, c'est simple!

Les créations de Dali dans le ciel qui ne sont reliées au sol que par de fines aiguilles. C'est quand j''ai presque tout débranché!

Et tant que je peux rebrancher c ok!

Juste remplir une déclaration d’impôt que moi je produis et exécutée par le savoir faire de ceux qu’y l‘ont l’affaire. Ç’t’a faire!! Mais qui sont crissement nul a chier dans d’autres affaires, on s’entend!

(c'est fait...moi!)

Et ceux pas assez entraînés pour ‘’muscler’’ leur raisonnement et qui savent ce qu’est la force vive pour l’avoir testé avec succès et décident de l’utiliser qu’à l’état sauvage, ben…

Hendrix? Amy Whitehouse? Basquiat? ... etc. ?

L’intelligence sauvage qu’ils utilisaient sans libre arbitre assez fort pour rebrancher au sol!

Le Tigre se retourne contre son maître ou fluorescences bourrées de photons venus de l’espace.

Le créateur s'envole comme un ballon et ne revient plus!

Des aiguilles brisées!

........................................................

Et moi je reste au sol...le trivial salvateur dans le fond. Je veux explorer mais pas devenir un hero ou in…

Le concept compo en Z (ref FB) ça le dit! Le Héro vous fait une compo pour être le héro, là c’est mieux! Comme le fabriquant de logiciel! Mes programmes sont différents mais ça vient d’un programme qui vous en a fait un! Super limpide!

Je m’embrasse les mains!

La fonction de la compo en Z selon mon concept, est de révéler le génie humain! Rien de moins!

Impossible de le faire sans un moyen pour stimuler ce que vous captez par autre chose que les sens et le savez pas.. De ressentir sans les sens. Tout le monde peut faire de la musique si c moi qui vous l’explique et je l’ai prouvé dans le design industriel avec des départs à 0.

Ici 1 de 2 créations kits pour les une coche en haut de 0 sans plus mais rien ne limite le musicien classique dans ça non plus...juste du bonbon! Psycle lien

Pour comprendre ce que vous faites, idéalement c'est changer un seul paramètre à la fois. En tournant un seul piton pour modifier un son ou en ajoutant une note au clavier pour la mélodie ou rythme. Si la position de la note est ok mais ça sonne bizarre, ne pas changer position mais la note par exemple...un genre de master mind!

Les fonctions qui interagissent ensembles, sont regroupées, donc le mieux est d'y aller par blocs et si c ok c'est votre setup sinon replacer comme origine et passer au suivant. C'est pour pas se retrouver avec une bouette sonore!

Tip Dans le startkit2, juste remplir les intervalles des ''Plucked String'' puis modifier un peu le son et vous avez une infinité de compos!! Trouvez le piton!

Le ''R'' de votre clavier, c'est la tonalité de la séquence donc tester le ''remplissage'' avec le ''R'' en premier avant autre chose.

Repérer sur le clavier la première note des séquences avant de modifier, est un bon moyen pour rester dans l'ambiance car vous pouvez pas être à coté de la track car vous ne faites que répéter le ton donné au début!

Par exemple, la même note de variation de la basse sur les mesures 01-03-05 , vous donne un mood qui est devenu le vôtre!

Le positionnement de la voix, vous indique quand il faut faire votre solo si vous la remplacez par votre compo avec les autres instruments.

Avec l’électro, une seule note avec votre secret d’effets, peut être votre solo.

L'écriture de la musique en utilisant un tracker, peut se faire soit en live ou comme suit, car c'est le niveau 101 ici.

ctrl c et ctrl v majoritairement pour note ou blocs et ctrl x pour enlever.

Déplacer les ''off'' sur la grille, est un des moyens pour avoir un contrôle sur la longueur du son.

Pouvez aussi rien changer dans l'écriture et explorer en changeant seulement l'instrument. Le design des instruments du logiciel est aussi beau qu'un rapport d'impôt mais merveilleusement efficace!

Re mieux! Le pack extra proposé avec le logiciel.

Puis play en loop pour tests, c tout.

Lien ici de la wave

Je mets cette parenthèse pour compléter les propos avec mon matériel autre que logiciel et en même temps le décrire pour ce qui est écrit sur FB à propos de la synthèse FM

Le rectangle vert en haut à gauche, c'est le TX 81Z de Yamaha avec la synthèse FM, le clavier mini touches, le moniteur midi, au dessus un échantillonneur bébelle mais qui fait la job , le ghetto-blaster en haut du mixer et le MC50 pour chef d'orchestre midi pour lier tout ça (vert au fond) avec un RX15 à droite pour des drums acoustiques et autre clavier midi pour le T60 sur XP pour les logiciels.

............................

Suite...

Même méthode disons que pour des sec3 en modélisation et animation 3D.

Ils avaient un robot pas ben bo mais très utile pour étudier les bases...une fois passé ce stade, personne ne focus sur les même affaires. Des unes ou uns, c’est tout pareil comme le demo mais une tête dingue et d’autres, rien de changé mais énergie mise sur possibilités d’animations...c’est pareil un startkit.

................................

Ma captation extra sensoriel si c'est cela, parfois c'est comme explorer les exos planètes par déduction. Je dois faire pour voir.

En faisant Bob l'éponge, je pourrais même dire que Giger m'a traité de sale touriste de cette zone de l'esprit! Je réponds Tut tut! je fais de la recherche pseudo scientifique!!

Quel radar est le bon? Instinct me dit ok ...

Et je connais pas mon impact gravitationnel. officiellement.

Tsé la SF de vers 1950 avec un dôme scénarisé autour de l’auteur…Oui je vis sur terre!

Note: Je vois le mood ici ...c ados pas mal...

Je demanderai jamais aux 15-30 si c ça, d'avoir mon recul...mais je ne me lasserai jamais d'en voir de cette tranche d'âge d'avoir des steps de plus que moi quand j'étais de cette partie de la population!

C’est la mécanique de avancer!

J'aime ça dire n'importe quoi alors m'a dire si 15 ans et pas con ben t'es pas normal! :-)

Vas pas te faire soigner! :-)

Steps selon mon vécu ...découverte des sens, du savoir par le langage, début de la programmation par l'école (y en faut une!) rendu 15-25 mettons c'est les tests sans expériences donc les retours en fonction de nos actions puis c'est la ligne directrice de notre vie.

Mais m'a ajouté si rendu à 3 fois ça c encore con est-ce normal?

M'a répondre oui car on est pas faite pareil .

Mais quand la masse de cons donne le pouvoir à ceux qui pensent comme eux, ben c eux qui me dictent les lois et récoltent les privilèges du pouvoir entre eux et c ça qui est dans mon questionnement sur comment faire mieux qu'une idiocratie.

.........................................................

(délire ON!)

Ma variation sur le concept de d’autres en écriture automatique!

La vie, ça vient pas dla mer, ça vient dla mort!

La mort qui est présente dans la vie!

Des millions de consciences primitives se livrent une guerre mortelle pour vous, dans votre corps, pour vous faire vivre! Pis quand y reste juste des morts au combat dans ton corps, ben c que t’es mort! Le sablier se renverse et hop on repart le loop!

Logiquement dans un réceptacle une coche au dessus du précédent pour l’évolution. Donc tout est déjà là de l’amibe au ET plus sexy que celui de...et c’est notre conscience qui ‘’jump’’ d’un réceptacle à l’autre!

(délire OFF)

Ça c'est un concept de l'inspiration ''d'ailleurs'' avec la raison en post production pas une croyance au père nowel! Une chose n'existe que parce que on croit qu'elle existe mais si la raison n'y voit pas de raison valable de son existence, ben elle existe pas!

Avec un certain pouvoir de persuasion pis en gueulant ben fort dans un gros micro boosté dans des Marshall pour impressionner la visite et avec des sujets faibles en raison, ben on peut leur faire exister n'importe quoi! Les exemples sont nombreux!

De ce que j’ai remarqué, les arts en général, c’est beaucoup de génie et relativement de science et la science ben faut juste un seul boost de génie pour en faire monter 1000 dans les rideaux qui vont tenter de compléter une chaîne logique. La trésor d'idées en vrac, c'est dans les arts car le raisonnement est pas le but premier et la science va s'en inspirer pour tracer une direction.

C’est avantageux de les avoir de ton bord si tu ( ) plein d’affaires en affaire et pas avantageux pas les voir de ton bord et comme les arts peuvent être le génie d’un idiot ( Augustin Lesage ne fait que des tableaux sans se poser de questions sur ses réalisations, c'est un automate. Son mérite est d'avoir trouvé le plus de son moins! En même temps, la preuve de ce que j'avance) ben wow comme on dit, pour avoir des portes paroles de ton bord que je me re dis!

Le DDos! Tu te montes une armée de zombies endoctrinés pour les diriger sur une cible! Oh my god! -) c'est cela! Pas intérêt dans l'éducation car y deviennent moins malléables!

C'est un point de vue.

Le réveil matin, est un mal aimé nécessaire! J’endosse, car je sais aussi que je peux vous emmener ailleurs juste pour le fun ou pour penser autrement.

..............................................

Note: J'ai 10,000 créations transposables en texte fait que ça déborde tout le temps et bousille un peu l'expérience de la rétroaction monochrome de DADADIDIERDODU mais si refait avec moins d'interférences, ça mérite attention particulaire .

De plus je dois endurer Yoko Yoyo qui se dit toutrée d'être relayée en quatrième place. Gestionnaire de gros égos!

Testeur en même temps!

Éditeur fluide!

#MG #Michel Grim #Anthropologie avec Trump #art contemporain

0 notes

just-come-baek · 7 years ago

Text

As If It’s Your Last

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Themes: angst | smut | zombie apocalypse!au

Word count: 13.5k

Summary: Yoongi and I are different as night and day; two completely divergent mindsets. Living too long the gloomiest scenario, I always risk my neck, while Yoongi is cautious, being on the safe side. Funny thing how polar opposites clash.

Warnings: just filthy smut ahead I guess

Masterlist

Today, it's the day 521.

It's been over a year since the world ultimately crumbled down. Almost overnight, a dangerous virus spread across the world; everything happened so fast the scientists couldn't even trace its source. At first, I thought of it as fake news, but before I realised the threat was real, the virus had become cosmopolitan.

On the day 3, the government informed the people about the danger. The virus is being transmitted via blood. Slowly, it penetrates the person's veins, killing the host within twelve hours. When the body temperature drops by fifteen degrees, the victim goes through the second stage—the infected human being becomes a mindless creature with a strong urge to feed on people's brains.

On the day 5, the city council organised a few safety zones. It was too late, though. The half of the population was already gone, while the lucky ones who actually managed to get there, got infected too.

On the day 10, my brother was attacked by the monsters. He was outnumbered, and although he fought them off, he got bitten. I couldn't do anything to save him. The only reasonable solution was to lock him up until the scientists discover a cure. We had hope, but our reaction was too slow; before we noticed, my brother changed and passed the virus to both of my parents.

On the day 21, I found my friend, Chanmi. She was fine, as much as the situation could be considered as one. When they heard about the threat, instead of joining the others at safety spots, they locked themselves up at home. They took me in, even though they hesitated at first. I could be infected, but nonetheless, they risked it.

Our luck didn't last long, though.

On the day 27, we ran out of supplies. We were starving; we had eaten everything, even an old bread with some mold on it. Her father, being the strongest among us, drove to the store. Unfortunately, he was bitten by one of them. He returned home with food, but we had to evacuate before he turned. Quickly, we got into the car, and drove away, although neither of us had any idea how to drive the vehicle. The situation was difficult, Chanmi and I both lost our families; the fact that we still could rely on each other was the only silver lining in this whole mess.

On the day 28, we left our city. Uninfected people either ran away, or barricaded themselves into their houses. We tried to find a sanctuary, but not even a single person would risk to help two strangers.

On the day 31, we reached another city. Their local government had taken better precautions in the fight against the virus. Having tested for the Z-virus, as they started calling it, they let us join one of the survival teams. In a group of fifty people, we waited for new information about the threat. The scientists all over the world were working to find the cure. In vain, unfortunately. We waited for weeks for the results, though we received no feedback. The people from our division were starting to panic, but I still foolishly believed there was a solution.

On the day 72, our team fought. Everyone had a different opinion, someone thought the government wrote us off, letting us die while the clerks which were at the very top of the social ladder were given an asylum. Others assumed it was some sort of natural selection where the weakest links would die and nothing could be done to prevent it. Instead of working together, people started to divide, which consequently contributed to official disbandment.

On the day 121, the government decided to actively end the crisis. They set up traps in the big cities. The strategy was different; no one cared for the people infected by the Z-virus. The plan changed; from that day onwards, they were focused on exterminating everyone who was a vector. It was inefficient, though. Day by day, we had fewer chances of winning it; whenever one of us died, there were more of them.

On the day 135, the system failed. We were deprived of the electricity, the cell signal and the Internet connection. It was by far the greatest breakdown we'd ever witnessed. It was the day, we realized the humanity lost. We continued to fight, but it was because we were cowards, being unable to take our lives away. We still held onto the hope, although everything around us proved us the situation was forlorn.

On the day 164, we met Sungjae. He was only a year older, but he didn't act his age. He could cheer us up even if we felt gloomy for weeks. Before he joined us, Chanmi and I faced many problems, with him by our side, living was much easier. He was a perfect supplement to our group. He brought back the positive spirit which we had lost along the way.

On the day 200, I realised I had the hots for Sungjae. I suppressed my feelings for him, though. I could see that Chanmi liked him, too. Sungjae wasn't indifferent about her, either. It was foolish to romance under these circumstances, so not wanting to interfere, I just stepped aside.

On the day 214, I caught them making out. I was out to get us food, while they stayed in our hideout. Since the beginning of the epidemic, I had picked up some skills and improved them throughout the process; therefore I came faster than I informed them. Seeing them in each other's arms, sprawled on the couch hurt me much less that I thought it would. Chanmi had always been a girl that boys fell for, I had got used to the attention she had been receiving. I was a little bit envious of their relationship, but they were happy, and their happiness made me happy, too.

On the day 222, we were attacked by the infected. I was on a stakeout, giving them some space, so they could get lost in their fervent desires and hidden needs. They needed privacy, and I cared so much about them, so I quietly shunned them. Just when the sun disappeared behind the horizon, I saw the infected. They were slowly approaching our hideout, and we had to move; otherwise, we would become just like them. We didn't even have ten minutes to pack and escape. This time, not even a glimmer of hope assisted me, we were outnumbered, and I was certain we were all going to die. Thankfully, Sungjae had an ace up his sleeve. We fought, and after many hours of the attack, we won. It wasn't a victory, though. Chanmi was scratched.

On the day 225, Sungjae and I watched over Chanmi. A long scratch was decorating her skin, and we still hoped she wasn't infected. Despite our prayers, at the crack of dawn, her heart stopped beating. Neither of us knew how to handle her death. Sungjae obviously liked her. I was shattered. Ever since the Z-virus epidemic, it was 'you and me against the world', and right now, she was gone. Without Chanmi, I was alone, caught in the middle of a war, relentlessly fighting for my life.

On the day 241, Sungjae left. He couldn't continue the journey with me, as he phrased, 'you remind me of her'. I wanted us to stick together, but whenever he looked at me, thoughts of Chanmi would resurface in his mind, and it was even worse hell than the one we were already living in. Regardless of how much I wanted him to stay, I couldn't ask for that. I had seen the pain in his eyes when he had watched her die, I didn't want him to relive that miserable memory every time he looked at me.

On the day 257, I stumbled upon two hunters. I was barely walking, and they noticed it. If I were one of them, I'd probably mistake myself as one of the infected. That day, luck was by my side. They took me to their camp and held as a prisoner, but at least, I was alive.

On the day 264, when they realized I wasn't infected, I was taken to their leader. Her name was Lee Sunmi, and everyone treated her like a queen. She had over a hundred of men ready to fulfill her every desire. I admired her, I really did. When the crisis had struck, she had embraced the power, and along with a handful of her friends, they had created a strong and capable group. I felt hope when they took me in, I no longer walked the streets without a purpose. It was dangerous, but rewarding; slowly, step by step, we were closer to the world without monsters.

On the day 311, I met Myungsoo. He had got recruited just the way I had, and the moment I looked at him, he caught my attention. Physically, he reminded me of Sungjae, and when I met him in person, I could pinpoint even more identical traits. Needless to say, we clicked. It didn't even last a week when Myungsoo and I began sneaking out every night to roll in the sheets.

For the first time in almost a year, I felt relatively happy.

On the day 354, everything, just like a house of cards, fell apart. On a mission, the task force split, and while scouting alone, Sunmi got infected. The incident caused a huge commotion within the group; the queen was executed before the virus would change her, and a few of her advisors started to fight for her position. Ideologically, the organization was supposed to join people to battle against the virus, but instead, the best warriors began killing each other. Then, I realized, it wasn't a place for me. I escaped, but I couldn't find Myungsoo anywhere. I lost him.

On the day 411, I came across another pack. It consisted of five men, and I didn't feel welcomed. They didn't trust me, and they didn't even try to disguise the hatred toward me. They perceived me as the weakest link, and I hated it. Whenever they had a chance they would send me to a dangerous mission, wishing that I wouldn't return. Every time they wanted to get rid of me, I proved them wrong.

On the day 428, one of them tried to rape me. I should've seen it coming. With each attempt to humiliate me, I rose right to the top, outshining them. That day, we were on a hunt, and if I didn't intervene, one of them would get infected—it must've been the last straw. Swiftly, I packed a few crucial supplies, and ran away. I couldn't stay with them, not after what one of them had tried to do to me.

On the day 439, I started to write a journal. I desperately needed a way to clear my head, and scribbling my thoughts down in an old notebook did the trick. I had no one to talk to, and I suspected I might lose my sanity if I didn't do anything to channel my thoughts somewhere else.

On the day 452, I climbed to the rooftop of the highest building in the area. The cold wind was kissing my cheeks, as I leaned against the barrier, looking down at the street which not even two years before had been bustling with life. Slowly, I opened my backpack and grabbed a chocolate croissant in an airtight packaging. That day was my twenty-third birthday. Normally, I'd throw a party for all of my friends, but that year, a simple croissant with a single candle clumsily stuck in it had to suffice.

On the day 464, I was attacked by two hunters. They were tall and strong men, and they didn't care whether they killed a person, or a monster. They just wanted to fire their guns, regardless of what they were aiming at. Thankfully, they weren't as trained, and I easily hid. Starting a fight with them was the last thing I wished to deal with.

Today, it's the day 521, and I walk around this fucking ghost town, seeking for a place where I can finally get some rest.

***

I was damn tired.

I had been walking since the crack of dawn, and now the night was slowly descending. Exhausted beyond human comprehension, I kept pushing myself forward. It was just a ridiculously heavy cross to bear, but I just had to continue fighting. In the span of exactly 521 days of the apocalypse, I had gone through some dark times, I couldn't give up now.

Repeatedly, I pondered to just quit everything.

I didn't have the guts to do it, though.

Taking one's life away was one hell of a feat, and frankly, I was a pathetic coward. I had lost everyone; my friends and family, even Sungjae didn't want to stick around me any more. I was drowning in solitude, being completely isolated, yet still, I couldn't find the strength within me to end this, to put a bullet in my brain and just stop fighting.

"Fuck," I cursed, when I heard the groaning—the infected were close.

Instantly, I adjusted my backpack, and quickened my pace; the thought of ending this whole miserable life haunted me every day, though whenever the real danger approached, I'd just fight. Just like right now; I could let them bite me. I could let them kill me. Unfortunately, a part of me wouldn't allow it, I still deluded myself into thinking that one day the humanity would win.

They were getting closer and closer; perhaps only a few blocks away.

I almost ran out of my supplies; granted that I managed to find a place to stay during the night, I'd still have to go scouting for food.

Troubled, not having a plan in my mind, I rushed the opposite direction. I'd come up with a solution while running. Hoping that I could spot a building with potential, I skipped to the West. A lot of buildings were perfect fortresses, yet I couldn't see any; there were only small business shops with shattered windows and broken doors, and enormous skyscrapers which must've been offices. I almost started to panic, but hopefully, I found it—a hotel.

Swiftly, I approached the main entrance; unfortunately, I couldn't enter. The doors were locked, so not wasting any time, I ran around the building, seeking for an emergency exit, though when I found it, I groaned with annoyance. It was barricaded, too. Almost as if someone was already hiding there, or used to shelter there, I just couldn't get inside.

The walkers must've heard me, as their grunts rang louder and louder in my ears. I tried yanking the doors open, but they wouldn't budge an inch. Aggressively, I kicked the entrance, but to no avail. It wouldn't move and I was stuck outside. I had to think; if I didn't come up with another plan, I'd become one of them.

"Think, think, think." I repeated like a mantra, as I lightly hit my forehead with my hand. "What would Sungjae do?" I asked myself, remembering that Sungjae would know how to solve the problem; he would always come with an unconventional solution. I was a strategist, I needed time, and I couldn't think clearly under so much stress and pressure of time. It was Sungjae's cup of tea, and in moments like this, I'd feel his absence the most.

They were just behind the corner, so grabbed my backpack and ran away. I couldn't waste any more time on trying to get inside; it was a perfect hideout, but I was forced to find something else.

Just when I wanted to head to the staircase of another building, I glanced at the parking entrance. The doors weren't completely rolled down, there was a twenty centimetre gap, and although I couldn't fit through it, I knew it was my chance. All I had to do was to lever it up a little, and then block the chink from the inside; it wasn't difficult, but I was worried about the time which I had so, so little. The walkers weren't particularly fast, but nonetheless, they were a danger I wanted to avoid. If they weren't a threat, I wouldn't be stuck in the middle of a war zone.

Swiftly, I placed my backpack in front of the gap, and looked around for something I could use to lever the sliding doors up. They were near, so I just grabbed a metal pipe which was lying next to the garbage can. Heaving a sigh, I placed the pipe on the backpack, putting all of my weight on one end of it. The sliding doors moved up a bit, allowing me to slide inside.

"Not today," I murmured to myself, looking for something to obstruct the chink with. I was in the parking lot; besides a handful of cars, it was empty. My head was aching due to intensive thinking and stress, but fortunately, on the other side of the parking lot, I noticed a huge garbage can which I quickly rolled to the sliding doors, hoping it would suffice. It had to.

It wasn't over, though. I had to make sure that there weren't any zombies inside. Getting a room without prior securing the building would be a reckless move, and I knew better. I wouldn't have survived to this day if I hadn't known that. The hotel looked safe, but I wasn't foolish to assume the threat was defused.

I was too exhausted to check every single room of this enormous hotel; securing the area would take me two days or even more. Wittily, I decided to set a small trap. Once I was in the main hall I pushed a china statue off the front desk, watching it scatter all over the floor. It made a noise, but not too loud to beckon the monsters outside. Every walker who was inside the building would hear the sound and hopefully follow it to its source.

Shielding behind the front desk, I waited.

I had only six bullets, and despite knowing that my plan was risky, I acted on it. They could either kill me in my sleep, or in a fair battle, and I'd always choose the second option.

It wasn't even fifteen minutes when I heard a noise. Someone just walked down the stairs, and I loaded my gun. With my closed eyes, I listened to the footsteps. Everything seemed that I had only one opponent, and frankly, I could work with that. I had been in worse circumstances, killing one infected wasn't a problem.

Sighing, I hoisted myself up and turned around, aiming my gun at the intruder.

"Holy fucking shit," the man hollered, put his gun down, and pressed his hand against his chest. He was almost as shocked as I was. I could sense that he didn't expect to cross paths with a human. The city was packed with walkers, while the humans had gone many moons ago. "Who the fuck are you and how have you got inside?" He asked angrily, staring at me, studying my body language.

"Nice to meet you, too." I answered sarcastically, unloading my gun and putting it away. "You locked yourself in here pretty well, I must admit."

"Apparently not well enough." He remarked, and when I heard a faint 'tsk tsk', I grinned at him. "Do you mind answering my questions?"

"Getting straight to the point, I presume." I retorted, and he gently nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Don't worry, you did an amazing job, I almost got caught when I was fighting with the locks. Luckily for me, you forgot about the sliding doors to the parking lot, I just glided through the chink."

"Oh, okay." He registered my answer, tapping his fingertips against his chin, staring blankly at me. "Get the fuck out, I was here first. I believe you know your way out." The stranger announced, and I hesitated to pull out my gun and shoot him. I had met plenty of mean people, but his attitude was awful. Although I had never been a person who judged and labeled others, this guy was really something!

"Are you insane? You're not kicking me out of here! Fucking zombies are out there!" I replied quickly, and he just heaved a sigh. "I mean..." I stared, smiling sheepishly, "I don't plan on staying here for long, a week tops. In the meantime, we can give each other some handy tips, " I paused when I noticed his annoyed and skeptical expression, "or we can just mind our own business. Whatever is fine with me."

"No, you're too loud. You'll beckon them." He spoke coldly, pointing his gun at me.

"Aren't you being a little bit melodramatic? I can bet that gun of yours totally won't make a sound, just put that down so we can converse like civilized people we are." I proposed, and he, although hesitantly, complied with my proposition. "Okay, so first thing first. You don't seem like a type of person who trusts others, so I'll just cut to the case," I started, and he nodded his head, allowing me to continue my reasoning, "you don't want to team up, it's not like that I actually offered it, but nonetheless, it's fine with me. If you're so against the cooperation, why don't we just settle for coexistence? I won't rain on your parade, and you won't on mine, how about that?"

The man was silent. My proposition didn't meet his expectations since he desperately wanted me out, but I wasn't particularly meddling in his affairs. We would stay out of each other's way. We didn't even have to talk to each other if that's what he wanted.

"Fine, but be quiet. And keep your nose out of my business, you got it?" He asked, and I vigorously nodded my head, smiling at his sheepishly.

"Of course, as quiet as a mouse." I added before I picked up my backpack, ready to leave.

I was damn tired, so I just walked into the first open room, and plopped onto the sheets, dozing off immediately.

***

I had no idea how long I was asleep; the moment I woke up the sun was already shining brightly, the strings of light falling directly at my face, as I had been too exhausted to even think of pulling the blinds down. Stretching my numb limbs, I sat up on the bed, looking around the room. It was really simple—one single bed, a big, empty wardrobe and a desk with a lamp on top of it. Every surface was coated with a thick layer of dust.

Slowly, I got off the mattress and headed to the bathroom. I needed to take a shower, and when I twisted the tap and no water came out, I wasn't surprised. It was a hotel; when the crisis had arisen the guests had been evacuated and the building shut off.

It was weird that the guy from earlier didn't put it back on; why wasn't he using the building's potential? It was a fortress, the walkers couldn't possibly get inside, so why on Earth he hadn't exploited the resources of it? If he didn't do it so far, I was going to show him what this hotel was capable of.

He may dislike me, but it doesn't mean that I can't show him a trick or two. He thinks he doesn't need my help, but when he sees me in action, using the building's potential to the full, he's gonna beg for more tips—it's a given.

Quickly, I fished out a flashlight from my backpack, and exited my room to conduct reconnaissance around the hotel.

First of all, I had to get in the manager's office. I needed the blueprints, so I wouldn't wander the corridors aimlessly.

When I walked into the main hall, I spotted that guy, lying on the couch, playing with his gun. I just wanted to ignore his presence, but the urge to snicker was stronger than me. Why do I always have to be stuck with jerks? "You know..." I started, clearing my throat, "if we didn't have the conversation yesterday, I would think you're just waiting to execute me."

He chuckled.

"And what makes you think I'm not?" He mused, sitting up, and I just let out a scoff. "The apocalypse changed people. Trust me, lying isn't the worst thing one could do to you. The world is filled with either fucking zombies, or backstabbing bitches."

"Ha ha ha," I laughed awkwardly, slowly digesting the new information. He was right, I had to give him that. I had bumped into a few fucked up people, but even so, I believed there was still some good in them, even if it was really suppressed. "I think we're already past that stage of acquaintanceship."

"Yeah, keep tantalizing yourself." He retorted, and I rolled my eyes. It felt like talking to a wall, no matter how much I wanted to persuade him to cooperate with me, it was pointless. He had his mindset, and he followed it meticulously. "And I think we agreed on something, so please uphold your part of the deal."

I groaned at his response.

He was stubborn, and he really must've hated me, although I hadn't even given him a reason to. What was his problem? Was he acting like this to everyone? The situation was ridiculous; everybody with the absolute minimum of business sense knows that two plus two equals five!

"Oh, no! Please forgive me overstepping the boundaries you mighty acquaintance of mine." I replied sarcastically, bowing to him in a very dignified manner, ironically, of course. "I'm truly sorry, please return to doing whatever you were doing." I smiled sheepishly, pivoting the flashlight. "I shall not disturb your beauty sleep ever again." I added bitterly, taking slow steps backwards, watching his furious expression.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Wait—" he hollered at me. I knew he was intrigued. "What are you plotting?" He asked straightforwardly, squinting at me.

"Why don't you see it yourself?" I answered, sending him a lopsided smirk. "Chop, chop, we don't have the whole day." I rushed him, and turned around before I started walking away, knowing he would catch up with me.

Just as I wanted to look backwards, he was already beside me. "So... I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves. I'm Min Yoongi, and you are?"

What the hell is wrong with him? Earlier, he had almost shot me, and now the small talk?

Shrugging, I dismissed his question with a lie, quickly saying a random name. The person I had been before the outbreak is gone. Whenever others had called me by my real name, it only reminded me of the life before the apocalypse. I am a complete different person now, my old name remaining in my memory.

"So what do you need that flashlight for?" He inquired, pointing at the device in my hand. "You won't get us in trouble, will you?"

"Quite the opposite." I muttered casually, as I stopped in front of the manager's office. "So, here's the plan. We're going to find the blueprints for this hotel, find the power generator, and bring this baby back to life. As far as I know, every hotel must have one in case of emergency. Hopefully, no one has used it up yet." I explained, fighting with the locked doors.

"Stop," he spoke, gently shoving me aside with a light swing of his hips. "Why do you trouble yourself so much? It's not like the Internet, or anything works." He reasoned before he kicked the doors, breaking the lock. "Ladies first," he mocked, grinning widely at me.

"I don't know what about you, but I like to be comfortable once in a while. When the walkers wander around wanting to kill you, you barely have any time to relax. That's why I do this from time to time, I like to listen to music, and maybe if I get lucky, I will find an old DVD player and watch something fun." I replied with a shrug, sitting by the manager's desk.

"Wow, that's pretty hardcore." Yoongi commented sarcastically, folding his hands across his chest, leaning against the desk.

"Do you even want to help me?" I asked, sounding more annoyed than I actually was. He tagged along, but he did nothing to actually aid me. He just stood there, being completely futile.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "But I am helping." He stated, pushing himself off the desk. "I just knocked the doors down; plus, I'm more of a mental support. Please, don't thank me."

"I wasn't going to," I muttered under my breath, skimming though the drawers. The blueprints had to be somewhere in there, and if Yoongi wasn't going to be much of a help, I had to take care of everything myself. "So, Yoongi..." I made a pause, waiting for him to give me his attention, "How did you end up here? Which way are you headed?"

"Me? Actually, I think I've lost my direction." He simply stated, and when I didn't say anything, he understood I anticipated the rest of the story. "When the crisis struck, I was on the trip with six of my friends. As soon as we heard the news, we wanted to return to our families. We relentlessly tried, but we just couldn't find our relatives."

Finally! Yoongi was opening up to me. I didn't particularly want to pry, but from experience, I knew that a conversation with someone could have a soothing effect. It was difficult to talk about one's struggles and ordeals, but in the end, some of the burden would eventually be lifted off his shoulders.

"Where are they now?"

"Dead." Yoongi answered simply, heaving a sigh.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." I spoke quietly, as I opened the cabinet, rummaging through the shelves, seeking for the blueprints. "You can talk to me about them, I'm a good listener. I guarantee it will make you feel a whole lot better."

"Right..." he trailed off, "I'd rather not."

I should've seen it coming; I didn't have a particular reason to have high expectations, but I still did and I was disappointed. He had a chance of liberating himself, and he didn't seize it.

"Okay, dude. Whenever you're ready." I spoke, and Yoongi glared at me as if I just killed his mother. "Whenever you're ready," I repeated quietly, not daring to look him in the eye. He wasn't wearing an exceptionally friendly expression, and I didn't wish to upset him any further. "I found the blueprints, hand me the marker." I ordered him, rolling the papers over the desk.

Carefully, I studied the sketching, encircling some of the rooms with the red marker. Yoongi looked over my shoulders, trying to decipher what the next part of my plan was. "The presidential suite? You didn't lie when you said you liked being comfortable." Yoongi snorted, rolling his eyes at me.

"Okay, let's go. I really want to take a bath in that fancy bathroom." I replied casually, furling the blueprints.

Yoongi and I went to the basement. Skillfully, I led us through the maze of narrow corridors to the power generator. The machine was gigantic, but it wasn't the first time I saw one, so I wasn't completely clueless. With Yoongi's assistance, we pried it open.

"What's next, Tesla?" Yoongi mocked, as he stared at the generator, and folded his arms across his chest.

Under the hood we found a thousand of switch buttons. Each button was turning power in a different room in the hotel, but thankfully, everything was featured in the blueprints.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I got this." I voiced confidently, cracking my knuckles. "Let's see...," I trailed off, skimming the blueprints. "This button should turn on the lights in the basement." Chewing on my bottom lip in anticipation, I held my forefinger upon the switch. With my eyes closed, I pressed it, heaving a sigh when the corridor lit up. "Ha, I told you I got this!"

"Why do you sound surprised then?" He inquired, the echoes of his 'tsks' following his rhetorical question.

"You know..., there was a chance the generator was depleted." I reasoned with a shrug, and turned off my flashlight. Quickly, I switched on the electricity in the kitchen, the bar, the presidential suite, and Yoongi's room. "Now, we have to find the water valve, and we're all set." I stated, staring down at the blueprints, tracing my forefinger across the paper. I sought for our next target, but before I managed to locate it, Yoongi already pointed at it.

"After you."

***

My presidential suite was located at the top floor. It was pretty troublesome to climb up the stairs, but nonetheless, it was worth it. The second I opened the doors, I was welcomed by the posh interior; everything seemed so fancy and expensive. Hurriedly, I went to the wardrobe and pulled out two fluffy towels and a soft bathrobe. I desperately needed this shower.

Pushing the bathroom doors open, I quickly twisted the knob, the warm water slowly filling into the bathtub. Leisurely, I stripped, and kicked my sweaty clothes to the other side. In the cabinet, I found a sack of exquisite bath salt, and many other top-shelf products which were just begging to be used.

This place was a jackpot.

Slowly, I dipped my foot in the water, letting out a faint sigh. It was amazing, and it made me feel like a princess, or at least a president's daughter. Before the apocalypse, I wouldn't have been able to afford this, so ultimately, I could name a handful of perks. For instance, money lost its value, and I could live in luxury for a day or such.

I stayed in the bathtub until my fingertips looked like dried plums and the water turned cold. Carefully, I wrapped a mushy towel around my chest, and stepped onto a white carpet. "It's so amazing." I spoke to myself when I covered myself with a fluffy bathrobe.

Out of curiosity, I opened the walking-in closet, wondering if the person who had stayed during the outbreak left something behind. It must've been totally my day; I found plenty of designer dresses. One of them was even my size. Quickly, I grabbed the hanger to have a better look. It was a gold and silver sequin dress with rounded neckline, short sleeves and flared skirt. It looked fabulous, and I gasped when I read the designer label and the price tag.

I hurriedly tossed the dress on the king-size bed, and started rummaging through all the drawers, seeking for some clean lingerie, matching shoes and some accessories. I enjoyed the brief sensation of luxury, and I craved to live that dream even if it was going to last for one night only. I saw my chance, and I just seized it. The walkers deprived me of all pleasures, so for my brief stay in the hotel, I decided to pretend the virus never existed. Tonight was all about myself, and I was going to have the time of my life.

***

When I dolled myself up, I checked myself in the mirror. The Dolce sequin dress, a pair of four inches Mary Jane's covered in smooth velvet, the black, leather shoulder mini bag with a chain strap. I was wearing expensive clothes which before the apocalypse would cost me at least six months worth of salary. Moreover, I used extravagant make-up. I applied pale foundation, highlighted my eyes with gold glitter eyeshadow and thin contours of eyeliner, painted my lips with matt red lipstick, and wore beautiful Chanel perfume.

I stared at my reflection, yet I barely could recognise myself. With costly toilette and gorgeous makeup, I looked stunning. When fighting for my life, I couldn't have cared any less about my outer appearance. In the field, it had never mattered how I looked, so I'd simply stopped preening myself.

In a hurry, I left the room, proudly walking to the bar. Yoongi and I hadn't made any plans to meet up, but I really wanted him to be there. I ached for fun, and without anyone to accompany me, it wouldn't be even half as entertaining. I had been alone for so long; I could even withstand Yoongi's grumpy attitude. He was a human being, and at this point of my life, I couldn't be fussy.

Swiftly, I pushed the grand doors open. The interior looked impressive; it was a mix of a lounge bar and a casino. There was even a platform with a pole! Whoever owned this place knew how to party hard. Looking around, I approached the DJ's booth and studied the gear, quickly turning it on. It didn't even take me five minutes for the speakers to blast with David Bowie's songs.

Not wasting any time, I created a playlist of my favorite 70's and 80's songs. Swinging my hips and nodding my head to 'Let's Dance', I headed to the bar to make myself a fancy drink. Tonight had to be a blast, I thought as I placed the glass on the counter and poured the liquor. Earlier, I had been caught up in the apocalypse, and now, I deserved a drink, a dance, and a fuck.

"Fancy seeing you here, Yoongi." I tilted my glass, and smirked at him, as the doors burst open, Yoongi wearing his branded annoyed and angry expression. "What do you want? Tonight, everything's on the house!" I hollered, raising a full bottle of expensive Scotch. Promptly, he stormed toward the bar. He was wearing a clean white T-shirt and black ripped jeans. He didn't dress up, but he still looked amazing with his ruffled raven black hair.

"Are you insane?!" He yelled at me, throwing an empty glass across the room. "It's not party time! I knew you were going to get us killed." He added, as he sat on the stool on the other side of the counter, running his hand through his fluffy hair. "I should've kicked you out." He spoke with a sigh, and I just poured him some alcohol, sliding him a glass which he gladly accepted, downing it in one go.

"All offense taken by the way, and come on! Just live a little!" I said, slightly patting his shoulder. "We need some relaxation," I continued, refilling his glass, "they're not going to get us here, so why don't we have some fun? You know that song, right? A little party never killed nobody!" I added, as I smiled and clinked my glass against his in a simple toast. "Don't be so gloomy, tonight's all about joy."

"You're ridiculous. How am I supposed to be having fun when we're surrounded by the infected?" Yoongi snapped and yanked his hand away, as I attempted to pull him on the dance floor.

"Then when are you going to have fun, huh? When humanity wins? Sorry to break it to you, but it's unlikely to happen. We live in a world where people are the minority, I doubt we will ever make it to the top again." I stated, staring at him seriously. For one night, I didn't have to worry about anything, and he just had to ruin that concept for me. "Fuck you, Yoongi. It's now or never sort of situation, you either stay, or get the fuck out of here." Having blurted harsh words, I was met with silence—the cat got his tongue.

My statement was bitter, but he couldn't say anything to negate it. No matter how brutal it was, it was the truth. We were fucked, the game against the walkers long lost. Right now, we could just hide and enjoy the little things once in a while. If he really believed in a happy ending, he was a fool.

"You remind me of my friend." Yoongi spoke out of the blue, pouring himself a shot of vodka. "His name was Taehyung, and he was just as annoying." He continued, as he downed the alcohol, and I just leaned against the counter. He was giving in, I had to make him talk. I had no idea when the next opportunity would come. "Always the villain of the piece."

"Excuse you," I cleared my throat, as I looked him in the eye. Why was he always saying I was going to bring him trouble, whilst I hadn't done anything wrong; if anything, I just tuned things up so our stay would be as comfortable as possible. "Your acquaintanceship with me is highly beneficial. I don't get it why you want to get rid of me so much. Please, elaborate. I want to understand what's so corrupt about me."

"You're just like Taehyung." he sighed, smiling at the thought of his friend. "You act exactly like him; I watched him die, I don't want to witness it again. I learnt it from experience, your attitude will get you killed. If you're lucky enough, you won't bring anyone down with you. Unlike you, I prefer being safe than sorry."

"Since when enjoying oneself is a crime, huh?" I asked angrily, placing my hands on my hips. "Nothing's gonna happen; the building is secured—nobody will get through. Have a drink and dance with me, Yoongi." I spoke firmly, pushing myself off the counter, while Yoongi watched me with a raised eyebrow.

The moment I heard Rod Stewart's 'Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?', I snatched Yoongi's glass shot and drunk the alcohol, ignoring the burning sensation in my throat. I was going to party as if it was my last time.

"Come on, Yoongi. It's fun. Dance with me, dance like no one's watching." I said rather seductively, swaying my hips from side to side, trying to emphasize my curves.

"You're dancing like a twat." Yoongi commented, snorting with his head hung low.

"Possibly, but you are a twat," I retorted, and Yoongi glared at me. Ignoring his pissed attitude, I smiled at him and sang the chorus. "If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, come on sugar let me know."

"Ah, fuck it." Yoongi cursed, smashing his empty shot glass against the oak counter. With one smooth movement, he took off his leather jacket, smirking at me. "You're still dancing like a twat, though."

"Does it really matter? Regardless of how bad dancer I am, I'm still positive I get lucky today." I answered confidently, as I sneaked my arms around Yoongi's neck. Yoongi smirked at my words, as he placed his hands on my hips, pulling me closer.

Yoongi and I were obviously sex deprived, and although we weren't exactly fond of each other, I wouldn't miss out on riding him. We don't have to romantically like one another to fulfill our needs; we live in a world where romance is dead and I would be a complete moron if I didn't seize the given opportunity to jump his bones.

"Oh, really? Poor guy, he doesn't have any standards." Yoongi commented rudely, so I jabbed him in the ribs.

"So, you're saying, even in these awful circumstances, you choose to be fussy. Wow," I spoke, not even trying to conceal my amazement, "what's your type then?" I inquired, cocking my eyebrow, being genuinely curious. What was his game? Had he loved someone before the world ended, and now, he wandered the country, looking for her or her look-alikes? Was he into men? Was I seriously that repulsive, so he didn't even consider fucking me?

"I don't really have a type," Yoongi started, sending me a lopsided smirk, "but I like my girls with nice curves," he shrugged, as he smacked my hands off, and retreated to the bar, pouring himself a drink, ignoring my glass which sat empty on the counter.

Listening to music, occasionally humming, we drank. We barely knew each other, and although I wished to get to know him better, Yoongi was really cautious. He wouldn't open his lips until he was certain I could be trusted, or simply drunk to the point of being defenseless and chatty. I opted for the second alternative; there's no place for trust in the world we live.

"How did Taehyung die?" I finally asked, when Yoongi was visibly intoxicated. His movements weren't as sharp, and he even spilled some alcohol on the counter. He was a heavy drinker, but everyone has one's limits, and Yoongi just reached his.

"You ask so many questions, princess," Yoongi started, staring at me with scrunched up eyes. "Why do you care?" He asked, when he looked into my eyes, waiting for an honest response. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. Yoongi however, must've seen something in my eyes what screamed candor.

Playing with his glass of liquor, Yoongi conceded everything.

When people were warned about the z-virus, Yoongi and six of his friends were on a weekend-off in the mountains. The second they realized the danger, they wanted to return to their families. Unfortunately, all of them, except for Yoongi, died along the way. I could hear the pain in Yoongi's voice, as he spoke of his friends. It was visible, he missed them.

It was tragic, knowing how much we suffered, although our experiences were entirely different. I fought to survive, hoping that one day we would live our old lives, whereas Yoongi with his friends strived to return home.

Nowadays, I was wandering across the ruins, the glimmer of hope slowly fading away. Yoongi, on the other hand, was traveling across the country, trying to find his mother, although he perfectly knew the rate of success was oscillating around zero.

Yoongi had watched his friends die, and I could imagine how he must've felt; I had gone through the same when Chanmi had got infected.

"Enough," said Yoongi when he came back to his senses. He had never wanted to share any of his past with me, and when he realized he spilled everything, he was pissed. "Get lost," he barked, turning away from me.

At first, I really wanted to comply with his request. If I left, he wouldn't anger me any further, but after all, I decided otherwise. It was my night, and I wouldn't let him ruin it. Besides, I wasn't going to comfort him, I knew firsthand how annoying it could be. I wasn't going to feed him with lies about the bright future. It was common knowledge it was utter bullshit. I offered him a shoulder to cry on, not a full consolation.

"No," I replied, folding my arms across my chest. I wasn't going to move an inch. Maybe, I was being annoying and stubborn, but I didn't intend to give in. I couldn't let him boss me around. "I understand what you've gone through, I lost my family and my friend, I know how it feels. Moreover, I am not ashamed to talk about it. My advice? Get over it, mourning won't do you any good."

Once again, my words got him speechless. I was harsh, but that's exactly what he needed. He was alone for too long; he needed someone who would shake him up a bit and force him back on the right track, and right now, I was the best he got.

Yoongi nodded his head in comprehension, and I poured him another drink.

"What do you have in store, princess?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Entertain me," he murmured, and I smiled at him excitedly. Finally, he broke. He wasn't going to spoil all the fun; instead he was all in, giving himself into the pleasure.

Together, we exploit the bar. With drinks in our hands, and a bottle within our reach, we played darts, which in our state of mind was exceptionally amusing, as we missed the dartboard almost every time. Later, Yoongi and I hit the dance floor. He loosened up a lot, and I laughed so hard when he claimed himself the kind of the dance floor.

When we were all laughter and quick breath, we sat down by the table to blackjack where I was the dealer and Yoongi was the player. At first, we only flirted with each other and drank our drinks, but after a while, we were really keen on playing. Especially, when he was competing against each other, and the winner would get a prize accordingly to one's desire.

"Fuck this game," Yoongi cursed and threw his cards onto the table. Abruptly, he stood up and smashed his hands against the table, ducking his head as he leaned slightly forward. "You know what would be really fun?" Yoongi spoke, slowly tilting his head up with a lopsided smirk proudly sitting on his face.

"No, Yoongi, what would be really fun?" I said as seductively as I could, mirroring his stance. Slowly, we inched toward each other, and when we were about to kiss, Yoongi turned his head to the side, bursting out laughing.

"I hope you like it rough," he whispered in a low voice, staring into my eyes, his gaze haltingly landing on my lips. Immediately, I was enchanted by his look; I couldn't even voice a proper response. He shone with confidence and craving, letting me know who was the boss. I didn't mind; tonight I wanted to soar, and I doubted it would be possible with casual vanilla sex.

Quickly, Yoongi smashed his lips against mine, snaking his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Our mouths moved against perfectly unsynchronized, teeth clicking. His tongue ran over my lips before he sucked on my bottom lip, biting and tugging at it in atrocious manner. I just couldn't help myself, the urge to moan into his mouth wasn't something I could fight. It just came naturally; the only response I could give him when he kissed me so passionately, yet wantonly.

His other hand traveled down to my bottom, as he pulled me onto the table. I was like a marionette, willing to comply with his every request. Having my knees digging into the soft surface of the table, I leaned forward, kissing him hard, sucking on his tongue.

"Come here," Yoongi rasped out, as he grabbed my ass and sat me at the edge of the table, my legs dangling, Yoongi positioned in between them. Rather gently, he caressed my thighs, his touch making me needy for more. "You're too skinny, you're all bones." He commented and tightened his grip on my thigh, earning a hiss from me.

"Look who's talking," I snickered, slowly moving my legs up, wrapping them around his torso, pulling him closer. He smirked at me, buckling his dick against my sex, and I entwined my fingers behind his neck, forcing him toward me. "Do you want me to suck you off?" I purred into his ear, licking his earlobe. Yoongi wasn't yet hard, and I was more than excited to let him fuck my throat.

"Oh, princess, I have a hunch we're gonna get along just fine," he replied in a husky voice, as I ran my hand down his neck and broad shoulder. "On your knees," he growled, and I immediately complied, jumping off the table, kneeling in front of him. As soon as I tilted my head upwards, Yoongi ran his hand through my hair, pulling it when I undid the button of his jeans.

Quickly, I pulled down the zipper, and yanked his pants and boxers down to his ankles. With one fluid motion, I grabbed his flaccid member, giving it a few strokes. Yoongi moaned, urging me to take him in my mouth. He started to stiffen under my touch, and when he was semi-hard, I slowly licked his length from the tip down to the base, squeezing his balls lightly, yet making him moan.

His voice was sharp and erotic and lower than normally. It was the first time the sound of him made me excited and needy, unlike countless times in the past when I had simply wanted to slap him square on his handsome face for his snarky and fiendish comments.

"What are you waiting for, princess? Do you want me to fuck your throat?" Yoongi asked, gently tilting his head to the side, staring down at me with a lopsided smirk upon his face. Slowly, he traced his fingers across my jaw, making me meet his lustful eyes. "How's it gonna be, huh?" he continued, and I brushed my lips with my tongue.

Having shaken my head and rolled my eyes, I leaned in, slowly wrapping my mouth around his cock; first off, I focused on its top, sucking it quite eagerly. Almost immediately, Yoongi grunted, shut his eyes close, and placed his hands on his hips, arching his back, letting me take care of his cock. Much to Yoongi's pleasure, I flattened my tongue, as I licked him, concentrating on the popping vein.

"Go harder, princess," Yoongi whispered, urging me to step up the game, "I can handle a lot more," he added unnecessarily, as he wrapped my hair around his hand, forcing his cock down my throat. At first, I gagged, but when his grip got weaker and I regained control, I bobbed my head back and fro, swallowing him deeper each time. "Yeah, that's more like it," he hissed, as he fucked my throat.

Despite the mutual hatred, the sound of his moans and grunts sent shivers down my spine. He didn't even properly touched me, but I could feel that my panties were with soaked with arousal. I had been sex-deprived for so long, I might just come solely due to his enticing voice. Without noticing, I got carried away with my thoughts, but Yoongi couldn't really complain when I moaned onto his cock, firing him with the vibrations.

"Ah, Yoongi," I purred, as I pulled away with a loud pop, "touch me, I need your fingers and your cock, please, my pussy is throbbing for your touch," I whispered desperately, my pride long forgotten. Blowing him was an amazing experience, and I didn't really mind doing it again in the near future; however, right now, I needed him to take care of me and my desires. If he made me come, I'd gladly return the favor.

"I really wanted to come on your face, though." Yoongi spoke casually, staring down at me, as I was still on my knees in front of him, "all is not lost yet," he added before he placed the tip of his middle finger on my chin, making me look up. "Come on, princess, let me see how wet you are for me," Yoongi helped me to stand up, and once I straightened up, his hand touched my inner thigh, slowly raking up my fancy dress, cupping my folds. "Fuck, you really did enjoy sucking me off, princess."

"You have no idea, your cock is amazing," I mewled, gently brushing my fingertips against his chest, "I want you to fuck me hard, Yoongi. Make me come on your cock, please," I begged and Yoongi tugged my panties to the side, delicately caressing my slit, "please,"

"Don't worry that pretty head of yours, I will take care of you just fine," Yoongi said in a low voice, smirking at me, "spread your legs for me, princess," he commanded, and I obeyed immediately. Swiftly, he positioned himself in between my legs, as he grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up, "let me eat you out, prepare for best head you've ever had," he added, placing me back on the blackjack table, pulling my panties down, putting them into his pocket.

"Are you always so cocky?" Raising my eyebrow, I asked, yet my questioned remained unanswered, as he put my legs on his shoulder which allowed him a better access to my drenching folds.

"You know it, princess," he whispered, as he ducked his head forward, kissing my folds. Yoongi stuck his tongue out, and ran it down my slit, making me buck my hips into his face. The slightest of his touches made me strive for more; the tip of his tongue barely rubbed me, yet I, with all my being, trembled for more. Eagerly, Yoongi moved his mouth against my folds, his tongue rubbing all the right places, making me tense in many short-lived heats of excitement. He was playing with me, taking his time, savoring my taste.

"You may be soaking wet, but it must've been a while since someone stretched you properly," Yoongi hissed, as he eased his middle finger inside of me. In response, I moaned, and buckled my hips onto his hand, needing him much deeper. Just as if I begged him to, Yoongi understood I pined for another finger. "How are you going to handle my cock if you're so tight around my fingers?"

"If anything, I like it rough," I moaned, closing my eyes, giving into the pleasure of Yoongi's digits ramming in and out, "so good," I purred the second he attached his lips back on my clit, sucking it rather gently. The heart-stopping difference between gentle licks of his tongue and rugged thrusts of his slender fingers almost threw me off the edge; just when I was about to come, Yoongi pulled out. "You ate me out so well; you should've let me come on your tongue."

"Oh, no. You have to earn it, princess." Yoongi stated casually, as he straightened himself up, and once again found his position between my legs. "Will you be a good girl for me?" he asked, and I obediently nodded, "then why don't you jump off that table and bend for me?"

"Fuck me, Yoongi," I breathed out, as I devotedly complied with his command. My chest was lying on the table, wrists pinned against the surface, my butt slightly stuck upwards. Yoongi was standing behind me, the music in the background completely silencing his breathing. Suddenly, I felt his cold hands on my butt cheeks, pulling the dress over my ass. Gently, he massaged me, and when I moaned due to fondness, he spanked me. At first, it hurt, but the second I hissed in pain, he placed his hand where it started to string, and caressed it lightly.

"You're so desperate for my cock," Yoongi growled, running his hands across my butt, up to my sides. "How much do you want me to fuck your pussy?" he asked, and I turned my head to sneak a glance at him, as he pulled my butt, rubbing his hard cock against me.

"So much, Yoongi. If you don't fuck me right now, I'll just jump your bones." I admitted shamelessly, wishing him to comply. "Please, Yoongi, fuck me and I'll let you do anything to me."

Instantly, Yoongi grabbed his cock, and rubbed its tip against my folds. "God, you're such a slut for me, princess." He breathed out, as he eased his length inside of me. I moaned, when he entered me, my walls tightly wrapping around him. "Fuck, you're so warm," Yoongi teased, gripping my sides, holding onto me as he creased his speed.

"Ahh, fuck," I cried out, shutting my eyes close. Yoongi was pounding inside of me, his thrusts quick and powerful, making my front dig into the table. "Yoongi, you fill me up so well," I whispered, gritting my teeth in pleasure. I was tensed, my lower parts throbbing for him, his length moving in and out, leaving me a breathless mess, "fuck—

"That's right, moan for me, princess." Yoongi spoke, digging his fingers in my hips, my skin turning red while his knuckles white. "Fuck," he hissed when he pulled out of me, "tell me, princess. How do you want to be fucked, huh?" Yoongi rasped, pulling me by my hair, so my back smashed against his chest. Closing my eyes, I raised my hand and gently touched his jaw, while Yoongi stroke his cock a couple of times before he rubbed it against my folds furiously.

"I don't care," I confessed, as I spun around, and raked my hands across his chest, wanting to get rid of his white T-shirt. "Just do it, I was so close," I answered, pulling my dress over my head, tossing it away.

"Your breasts look amazing in that bra," Yoongi complimented, and leaned forward to kiss my cleavage. The bra was black with many decorative straps which looked really good, contrasting with my milky white skin. "I mean it," he added, cupping my breasts, giving it a sudden squeeze.

"Yoongi," I purred, sitting on the table with spread legs, "please, I don't think I can wait any longer." I confessed, whining a little since he had denied me of two orgasms. I had to come, it wasn't funny any more. "You proved your point, now, please let me come."

"Anything for you, princess," Yoongi replied, as he grabbed his cock, harshly grinding it into me.

"Hurry up, I need to come," I begged, as Yoongi spat on his hand, and coated my pussy with his saliva, "please," I breathed out, trying to refrain from sounding any more desperate, "you're killing me,"

Without any warning, Yoongi snapped his hips, filling me up with his cock. Firmly, he was holding my legs, his fists around my ankles, so I wouldn't pressed my legs together, severely striving for more friction. My every muscle was tensed, my orgasm nearing, yet it was beyond my reach; Yoongi had to touch me, or at least let me touch myself. The sensation was building up within me, but it couldn't be released.

"Ah, that's right princess." Yoongi growled, ramming inside of me, sweat formed on his forehead, his bangs already wet, sticking to his skin. It was definitely the sexiest he had ever looked. "You clench around me so tight," he whispered, as he relaxed his grip on my ankle, quickly wrapping his slender fingers around my neck. "Fuck, princess, you're so hot."

His grasp was sturdy, choking me. I had trouble with breathing and moaning, but it didn't really hurt me. If anything, it made me even more aroused. I was excited, wondering how much I could handle.

"How do you like that, princess?" Yoongi asked, slamming his hips, his cock hitting my sweet spot. I bucked my hips upwards, ready to welcome an approaching feeling of bliss, and Yoongi pressed his hand against my clit, rubbing it brutally. "Come on my cock," he howled, tightening his grip around my neck.

Just when Yoongi squeezed the column of my throat with one hand, and rubbed my folds with another, I came on his throbbing cock. I covered his length with my juices, but Yoongi didn't seem to bother, as he chased his own release, his thrusts much slower and deeper.

The orgasm set my body ablaze; every fibre of muscle was buring, and I gladly embraced the feeling. Right then, I felt like I died and went straight to heaven. It was the first time someone fucked me so hard, and I enjoyed more than I was willing to admit.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Yoongi moaned, as he threw his head backwards, reaching his peak. His voice sounded rough and animalistic, as he pushed himself inside of me, filling me with his semen, "fucking amazing," he added, panting heavily. Slowly, he placed his hands on my sides, pulling me up, so he could place a chaste kiss on my forehead.

"I want more, Yoongi," I whispered, staring into his eyes. I got to taste him, and I needed more of him. No matter how blissful he made me feel, it wasn't enough. I desired much more; Yoongi bending me according to his will, testing out different techniques and positions. Practically, I'd do anything he would ask for.

"Do you want to ride my cock?" Yoongi asked, biting my earlobe playfully. "Let's meet in your room in ten minutes," he quickly added before he collected his clothes and exited the bar lounge.

***

After that night, Yoongi and I rolled in the sheets practically every night. Not even once, he missed a chance to rest in his own suite; he was always knocking on my doors before the clocks struck midnight. However; despite our night escapades, we still didn't get along outside the bedroom, even if we were quite compatible in bed. The sex was amazing—Yoongi always had me begging for more.

Whenever we met in the hallways, the atmosphere was thick. One could say we were polar opposites, and the longer I knew him, I could only agree more with that saying. At this point in our lives, Yoongi was cautious at every step he made, while I risked at every given chance, as I kept asking myself, 'what worse can happen?'. I had been living the worst scenario for quite a long time, I truly doubted it could get any worse.

"This city used to be so bustling, right now, it lies in ruins," Yoongi commented casually, as he smoked his cigarette on the balcony. It was around two at night, as we just finished fucking. Covered in sweat, I put on a fluffy bathrobe, and joined him, leaning over the barrier beside him. "I was here on the school trip when I was sixteen, the difference is dreadful. It was illuminated with so many lights, you couldn't tell it was day or night. Right now, it's all gone."

"You shouldn't dwell on the past," I sighed, carefully watching the city. In the distance, I could see smoke, it must've been either the walkers or people who fought and lost with them. "It's been a month since we got here. It was a perfect sanctuary, but don't you think we should leave?" I asked, trying to choose my words wisely; I didn't need to argue with him about us. We were fucking; no romantic strings present. We don't even like each other, let alone love. Nonetheless, I didn't want to start my journey alone.

"You tell me; how long the power generator is going to work? I must say, you spoilt me," Yoongi jested, his eyes focused on the ruins in front of us.

"Not much, enough to turn the hotel into a trap." I answered, mentioning my plan which Yoongi negated a couple of times before.

"I thought I already told you what I think about it. You want to pull 'home alone' gig on the fuckin' zombies. It's not going to work, princess." Flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the street, Yoongi shrugged. I expected this kind of reaction from him anyway, he rejected it so many times, I stopped counting.

"But I thought this through, it is going to work," I exclaimed rather loudly, wanting to at least obtain his attention. "I realise you don't want to put your live in danger, but my plan is good; it won't get us killed." Slowly, I sighed and looked him in the eyes, "it's a sequence of a few simple steps and if we follow the procedure accordingly, we will survive, killing dozens of the walkers."

"This may work in theory, in practice it can fail miserably." Yoongi spoke, staring into my eyes. "I've lost six of my best friends. At first, we were fighters, but those reckless heroics were the sole reasons for their death. I learned that lesson when I lost them; right now, I want to play it safe. Sorry, but my answer is no," he finished, smiling faintly at me, as he didn't want me to take that rejection personally. He just didn't have faith in my idea, and although it was difficult for me, I should respect his decision.

"Why Yoongi?" I started, trying to suppress my urge to cry. I was about to be really mean, spilling harsh truths, hurting his feelings. "I know how you feel; been there, done that. It's all in the past, though. They're dead, and nothing you can do to bring them back. That's exactly why you shouldn't hide away in the shadows until a walker eventually kills you. What's the point, really? We'll all die ultimately so why die as a scaredy-cat when you can die as a fucking legend?"

Yoongi was mute; he knew what I was saying was legitimate, and that stirred second thoughts. My proposition was risky, and, if conducted incorrectly, could get us both killed. Nonetheless, I was sure of success. With the preparation done right, there was no space for mistake. We both were going to make it and slaughter some zombies along the way.

"Okay, fuck it. Let's kill these motherfuckers."

***

The very next day, we started the preparation. My plan consisted of four parts: groundwork, decoy, attack and evacuation—each aspect equally important. We had to be ready for everything; if we failed in one area, the whole strategy would fall through. At this point, a single mistake could cost us a life, so each step of the scheme must've run like a clockwork, and although it consumed a lot of work and time, Yoongi and I were determined to be diligently prepared.

Our rota was quite long, and items listed were difficult to obtain. It didn't hold us back, though. The search for components took us almost two weeks, but having put an enormous amount of effort, we found everything we needed to succeed.

"I think we're all set," Yoongi commented, as he lay down on the couch, wiping sweat off his forehead. Loudly, he inhaled and exhaled, wanting to rest a little. The quest of collecting needed equipment was done, but it didn't mean we could rest. The end of preparation only signified the D-Day was approaching.

Sighing, I plopped in the armchair and rubbed my face in hope I'd get rid of signs of fatigue. Slowly, I closed my eyes, visualising the sequence of events in my mind, making sure that we were thoroughly prepared. I envisioned every probability I could think of—in case of failure, we had a backup plan. Hopefully, we wouldn't be forced to exploit it, since it had a lower rate of survival than the original scheme.

"This is it, then," I spoke half-heartedly, sneaking a peek of his frame. "We should psych up, shouldn't we?"

Just when my voice rung in his ears, he opened his right eye, and looked at me, "are you afraid?"

"Not really," I answered easily, shrugging. The concept of death wasn't foreign to me. I had contemplated it countless times before, and although, I had never been able to take my own life away, dying like a hero, in an act of bravado was something I could accept. At least, I'd know my death didn't go to waste. "What about you?" I inquired, turning my head to look at him.

"Me neither," Yoongi replied in dismissing manner, "it's fine if we don't make it. I kind of embraced the idea of death long time ago," he confessed, staring into my eyes, finding affinity.

No matter how different we were, I could relate.

"Do you want to fuck?" I proposed, and Yoongi didn't even bother to answer. He just held my hand, and led me upstairs where we could satiate our desires one last time. We both were bitter about it, but we knew that our purpose was something greater. Even if we didn't kill every infected, our mission would be a major contribution in dreams of defeating them.

Hopefully, our heroics would be remembered.

***

The morning came earlier than either of us wanted to. It was a nice day; the sky was clear of a beautiful colour of blue. It screamed peacefulness, but I knew it was going to be an exact opposite. Everything was going down; it was the beginning of a partisan war between us and the walkers. For some people, our mission could be silly, but perhaps, others would be inspired. Maybe, our devil-may-care acts would kindle the glimmer of hope in fellow survivors.

Yoongi was sleeping tranquilly on his side of the king-sized bed. He looked at ease, breathing calmly, his hair messy, his eyelashes casting a shadow on his beautiful face.

Collecting my thoughts, I cleared my throat, and elbowed him, "wake up, it's the D-Day," I murmured, watching him roll in the sheets.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Yoongi growled before I managed to swing my hand and slap him across his face. "Disturbing my sleep is one thing, but hitting my face? Girl, you don't wanna know what I'd do to you."

"Get ready, it's showtime," I spoke casually, as I jumped off the bed, and approached the wardrobe, seeking for comfortable clothes. Quickly, I dressed myself up, and shot a glare at Yoongi who was still lying on the sheets, trying to fall back to sleep. "I'm going downstairs to unlock the doors, if you don't blast the music at 9:30, I'm going to go to the rooftop and fucking kill you myself," I threatened before I left the room, purposely slamming the doors, making sure he was wide awake.

Since I was faster, I had to go downstairs and get rid of the barricade, so the walkers could get inside the hotel, following the sounds of music. Yoongi's task was to turn on the sound equipment which we had previously set up on the rooftop. The infected had an amazing sense of hearing, and we were going to use it to our own advantage, luring them inside.

The speakers were emitting sounds which could be heard in approximately 500 meters radius. Mindlessly, they would wander into our trap.

Yoongi was going to play the music within seven minutes, and I still had to open the parking lot doors and run to my hideaway—the emergency stairs on the fifth floor. I had to hurry if I wanted to make it on time. It was ridiculously dangerous for me to be in the open area which would be packed with zombies in a matter of minutes.

Wiping sweat off my forehead, I looked at my wrist watch. Two minutes. It took me more than I had expected, but I was still positive that I could reach my destination on time if I didn't make any unnecessary stops. The doors got stuck, but after a fierce fight, I slid it up over my head, and swiftly run inside.

I was panting when I pushed the emergency staircase doors open. Desperately trying to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall, supporting my frame by placing my palms on top of my knees. That was when I heard the music—the smile crept upon my face, as I realised Yoongi's choice. I giggled, carelessly tapping my fingers in the rhythm of A-ha's 'Take on Me'.

By the end of the song, I was certain we were heard by the walkers.

Right now, I was waiting for a sign from Yoongi. During the preparation, we had been fighting about that sign we could use, and after a heated debate, we had agreed upon a fifteen second long pause. The sound of silence meant that a significant amount of walkers gathered in front of the hotel, and I could set one end of gasoline-dampened sheet on fire and run to the rooftop.

Patiently waiting and occasionally singing along, I played with the lighter in my hands.

'It's a simple mechanism', I thought. I'd torch the sheets, the chain reaction would do the rest. The rope made out of sheets would catch on fire, trailing a burning path down to the lobby, and once the sufficient heat reaches the fire sprinkler system, causing the bulb to shatter, the zombies would be sprayed with fuel which would only enhance the conflagration. Moreover, for more spectacular outcome, we planted a few boxes filled with extremely flammable cans.

It was going to work.

It had to.

Suddenly, the music stopped. I knew it was my cue, so without further ado, I crouched and ignited the white sheet. I jumped up a little, seeing the rag catch on fire with a tiny explosion. It frightened me, although it was just a piece of material dipped with fuel. Now, I began to wonder what kind of blast I was going to face when the hell in the lobby erupts.

Anxiously, I swallowed hard, running three stairs at a time. The hotel was tall, and I had to make it on time. It was difficult to estimate, but in my luckiest assumptions, I had two minutes, give or take. It required a lot of time for the fire to spread on the higher storeys, yet it wasn't what I feared.

I dreaded that the fire sprinkler system wouldn't handle the heat and simply explode; instead showering the walkers with flames, it would blow up, making the building ultimately collapse.

Halfway up, I was almost completely drained of the energy; my breath was shallow, my arms thrice as heavy. I felt as if the air was being knocked out of my lungs, as I strived to push myself forward. Not even a storey further, I could taste blood on my tongue. Normally, I'd hide away and take a break. Right now, it wasn't an option, so I clenched my fists and rushed upstairs.

Maybe a minute later, an awful reek hit my nose. That stench was a sign that those motherfuckers finally burnt in hell.

Just when I smiled, feeling the sensation of victory, the floor underneath my feet shook slightly. The complications—my worst apprehension finally struck. It really wasn't the place, nor time to whine about sore muscles, I preached. The building was about to cave in, I had to get the fuck out of there.

"What the fuck took you so long?" I heard Yoongi's holler, as I pushed the rooftop doors open. He was worried, waiting for me with the zip lining equipment for me in his hands. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, put this on before the hotel fucking crumbles down," he hissed, helping me to put the gear on.

"You go first," I quickly mentioned, as we both lined up by the barrier, "I'll be right behind you." I added, gripping onto the pulley and the rappel device, being ready to immediately attach them to the rope and slide right down it to to the rooftop of a different building.

"See you in a minute," he smiled gently at me before focusing on the gear in his hands, skillfully maneuvering them.

That was it; the fourth and final phase of the plan. Unfortunately, the previous steps didn't go as smoothly as we had formulated it, but in the end, I could consider it a success. The zombies were scorching in flames, while Yoongi and I were quite alive.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Yoongi's voice echoed in my mind, although my brain must've made that up, given his current location and the noise around me. It wasn't possible for me to hear him, but it still rang in my ears, sounding as real and rude as ever.

Quickly, trying not to look down, I pushed myself off the rooftop, sliding toward the other building. The time up there flew so fast, I didn't even realise when I was on the other side of the rope, Yoongi helping me to get out of the zip line equipment.

"Let's go; we're not safe yet." Yoongi reminded me, as he held my hand, pulling me with him.

"God, I fucking hate running," I commented, as we rushed down the emergency stairs, desperately wanting to reach the motorcycles which we had prepared days before.

Although we had never discussed it, it was pretty obvious it was the end of our journey together. Yoongi and I were different people with dissimilar agendas. No matter how much I wanted to keep him as my companion, it didn't make any sense.

"Hurry," Yoongi urged me, as he swung his leg over the motorcycle, and turned the engine on, rushing me to do the same. In an instant, I copied his moves, and we both drove away, leaving the crumbing hotel behind us.

On the outskirts of the city, Yoongi finally stopped the vehicle. I assumed he wanted to properly say goodbye to me, but what I heard completely threw me off. My heart warmed up in an instant, my lips forming a wide smile, as his short question lingered in the air.

"Do you mind if I stick around?"

***

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cricksterz · 4 months ago

Text

༻ INTRO POST 👍

༻➛ Main info:

☆ • Hi! I’m Emerson/Emmy/Cricket

• I use he/she/they pronouns (no preference)

• I post art things but sometimes I’ll make some random posts too

• Sketch requests are open! (I can’t guarantee I’ll draw it right away however)

•Feel free to use my art as a pfp or use my character designs with credit

༻➛ Main aus i draw:

• Z/Cell Virus AU (Pokemon)

• Pokemon x Life series AU

༻➛ Art stuff:

• I use ibis paint x

* [Please keep in mind my art style can be very inconsistent, I’m still trying to find an art style I want to consistently draw in]*

༻➛ More about me:

#intro post

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wthtonibelle · 8 years ago

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GoChi Fanfic Outline

I’ve had a plot for a GoChi fanfic on my mind but I just can’t find the time or the energy to write it. Well actually I did start writing it last year and then I accidentally deleted the file after I was done with around 2.5 chapters and I was so upset I didn’t attempt rewriting it anymore.

But anyway, you know that old GoChi fic called “A Simple Wish”? It’s one of the most popular GoChi fics on FF.net. Chi-Chi accidentally wishes to Shenron that she’d never been born, and Shenron grants it, and Chi-Chi finds herself in an AU where she never existed. So Goku still lives in the woods, Piccolo’s still evil, etc.

I loved the premise of that fic, but I wasn’t quite satisfied with how the story was fleshed out. And I’ve been wanting to write my own version, and since I can’t write it down as a fanfic yet but I’ve been itching to share the story somehow, I’ll just put it down here as an outline. Hopefully, someday, I find the motivation to make this real.

Anyway, here goes:

1) Post-Buu, it is Chi-Chi’s birthday and nobody’s home for dinner. She goes for a walk out in the woods to cool her head. But as she spends more time alone, the more upset she gets. She feels like nobody appreciates her, like everyone’s acting as though she weren’t important. Frustrated, she shouts out that she wishes she’d never been born... only to hear Shenron’s booming voice saying that her wish had been granted. And she wakes up in an AU where she doesn’t exist.

2) She meets AU Goku, and finds out that this one has never died. Apparently, this Goku is strong AF. Without a family to sidetrack him, he had immediately jumped back into hardcore training after the 23rd Tenkaichi Budoukai. Thus, when Raditz came along, Goku was strong enough to defeat him without fanfare. So Piccolo did not need to intervene, Goku did not die, and Raditz died without knowledge of the Dragon Balls. Vegeta and Nappa, who didn’t really care about Raditz, did not bother going to Earth to find out what happened to him.

3) The Saiyan and Frieza sagas never happened, and so Dr. Gero had limited material for his creations, which led to the Androids and Cell being significantly weaker in this AU. Goku also never got his heart virus (assumed to be extra-terrestrial in origin) because he never went to space.

4) Goku managed to become Super Saiyan (without understanding what it is) sometime during his rigorous training. And he kicked all the bad guys’ asses just fine by himself without dying even once.

5) Majin Buu never happened either, as Babidi never heard of powerful warriors coming from the planet called Earth.

6) Anyway, so Chi-Chi finds out about this AU history and becomes upset that Goku seemed to have lived a fulfilling life even without her. She thinks that maybe she really was just holding her husband back and that he would have been happier and more successful without her.

7) But of course, she still wants to restore the original timeline. Telling Goku about her situation but choosing to leave out the truth about their relationship, she asks for his help to gather the Dragon Balls so she could wish herself back into existence.

8) He agrees to help her. Because Chi-Chi has nowhere to stay, Goku offers Grandpa Gohan’s hut, although it hasn’t been lived in for years. In this AU, Goku doesn’t have a home and is basically a nomad who sleeps and eats where he trains. He only goes back to Grandpa Gohan’s hut to pay his respects to his memory every now and then. So anyway, Goku offers Chi-Chi the hut, and she transforms the cramped abandoned little hut into a home. For the first time in his adult life, AU Goku is able to experience a taste of what it means to have a home.

9) Goku and Chi-Chi go to Capsule Corp. to borrow the Dragon Radar from Bulma. Chi-Chi finds out that in this AU, since Vegeta never came to Earth, Bulma and Yamcha stayed together. They’re married and expecting their first child. They’re so happy, and Chi-Chi feels guilty because she knows what reversing her wish would mean for them.

10) Goku and Chi-Chi set out to gather the Dragon Balls. And finally, after a couple of weeks of searching, during which they are also living together, they are able to gather all 7. But when Chi-Chi finally summons Shenron and asks him to reverse her wish, he tells her that he is not strong enough to do so.

*gasp*

11) This leads to Chi-Chi and Goku going to Kami for help. In this AU, Kami and Piccolo never fused, because Goku was always strong enough to defeat the bad guys by himself. Kami reads Chi-Chi’s memories, finds out the whole truth, and then reveals that Shenron is not strong enough to alter time and space.

12) So this whole AU, it's an illusion, a copy of the real world that Shenron created to fulfill Chi-Chi’s wish. The world is collectively dreaming. Chi-Chi’s wish put the world to sleep and now they’re all having the same dream of an AU where Chi-Chi does not exist (think: Inception). Everyone but Chi-Chi is unaware of their real lives and real selves outside of this dream.

13) Chi-Chi is relieved. “So I’m just dreaming? I just wait for the illusion to wear off or something like that?” she asks. But Kami says it’s not as easy as that. There is no guarantee that they would wake up at all. It could be that this dream will go on forever. If Shenron’s magic does wear off and they wake up, there is also no guarantee that everyone will be as they were before they fell asleep. It could be that they retain memories from this dream and become confused as to what is real and what is not. It could be that the people who were not born in this AU (i.e., Gohan and Goten) never regain their consciousness at all.

14) So Chi-Chi panics, “Oh no, what do we do now?” And Kami says, “Well, the only thing that can reverse Shenron’s magic is Shenron himself.” And Chi-Chi tells him, “But I tried wishing with the Dragon Balls and Shenron said he couldn’t do it!” And Kami clarifies, “This Shenron can’t.”

15) At that, Chi-Chi remembers that the Shenron who had granted her wish is no longer the original Shenron that Kami had created. During the Cell saga, the Dragon Balls had been renewed and upgraded by the new Guardian of Earth, Dende. Thus, real world Shenron is stronger than AU Shenron, which explains why the latter cannot reverse what the former made.

16) For the wish to be reversed, AU Shenron has to power up. But how? Where do they find Dende now? Is it even possible to do that here? She starts to lose hope, but then Kami tells her that there is another way to upgrade the Dragon Balls...

*dun dun dun dun*

17) The answer is Piccolo. He must agree to be absorbed back into Kami’s body. This will give Kami a power boost, allowing him to make the Dragon Balls strong enough for Chi-Chi’s wish to be reversed.

18) And Goku is like, “No way Piccolo is going to agree to that!” Piccolo is not friends with the Z warriors (no Gohan, no opportunity to have a change of heart). But Kami says that Piccolo is their only chance. If Piccolo does not cooperate, then at best they are stuck in this dream and at worst they all die.

19) All this while, Goku finds himself fascinated with Chi-Chi. He’s pushing 34 now and therefore no longer as naive as he used to be. He knows what marriage is, and although he has never really found himself dwelling on the idea of “settling down” like his friends have, he realized that the world has become a lonely place for him. He’s so strong that none of his friends can keep up. He has nothing new to learn, no equals to spar with (no Vegeta here). He has no family, and both his closest friends are married and busy with their own growing families. Goku feels lonely.

20) And then all of a sudden comes this woman. This strange, beautiful, strong-willed woman who can surprisingly ride Kinto’un, cook a mean meal, and whip him into shape with just her words. Goku has never dwelled on the idea of liking anyone the way Bulma likes Yamcha or Krillin likes Android 18... but this woman who calls herself Chi-Chi. Well, she’s making him think.

21) But he also knows that the right thing for him to do here is focus on helping her go home. Goku knows nothing about the real world because neither Chi-Chi nor Kami would tell him anything. But he knows that once Chi-Chi reverses her wish, whatever closeness he and Chi-Chi has now, everything that they’ve shared these past few weeks, all of these will be erased. They wouldn’t even remember each other. But he wants to give Chi-Chi what she wants, because he wants her to be happy.

21) Anyway, back to Piccolo. Chi-Chi thinks that the first thing they ought to try is to just seek him out and talk to him, try to explain the situation. The problem is no one knows where he is. Piccolo has been lying low for the past several years and is so good at hiding his ki signature that no one can sense him.

22) Chi-Chi claims she may know where he lives. She and Goku fly out into the woods where Chi-Chi knows the Piccolo in the real world likes to stay. Piccolo is indeed there. He’s surprised and enraged at the trespassers, especially because one of them is Goku. He immediately launches an attack, and although Goku is strong AF, he knows he can’t fight back or else they may lose their chance to win Piccolo over. Left with no choice, Goku and Chi-Chi retreat. This happens a few more times, and when a blast comes too close to Chi-Chi once, Goku becomes alarmed and hesitant to bring her along. But Chi-Chi knows that Goku going alone is out of the question as it would inevitably end in a fight.

23) So one night, while Goku is asleep, Chi-Chi sneaks out of the hut, calls Kinto-un and goes to Piccolo’s lair all by herself. She knows too well the danger of the untamed Demon King, but she can’t be bested by fear when the very existence of her two sons are at stake.

24) Piccolo fires a blast at her, which she is able to dodge thanks to Kinto-un’s agility. She calls out, “I’m alone and I only want to talk. It’s important. If you still want to kill me after you hear what I have to say, you’re free to do so.”

25) Reluctantly, Piccolo lets her land and Chi-Chi explains the situation to him. But when she gets to the part where Piccolo needs to fuse with Kami, he sneers at her, “Why would I do that? Who are you to me that you’d think I’ll go that far to help you?” And Chi-Chi replies, “I may be nothing to you, but my son is a different story. He’s your dearest friend. Don’t you remember him? Somewhere in your heart, you must.”

26) Chi-Chi doesn’t tell Piccolo Gohan’s name or who his father is, because it would be too much of a gamble. If Piccolo finds out that Gohan is his mortal enemy’s son, he may not bother to attempt trying to remember. But she continues to coax, “Please try to remember. You kidnapped my son and made him a warrior. You died to save his life. You stayed with my family for 3 years and trained with my son and my husband. Look beyond this illusion, this dream, and remember!”

27) Little does Chi-Chi know, Goku woke up in the middle of the night to find her missing and immediately figured out where she went. He goes to follow her and as he hides in the woods, ready to spring into action in case Piccolo attacks, he hears Chi-Chi talking about her son and her husband, and his heart sinks. He had thought that maybe after reality is restored, he could find Chi-Chi again. He had thought that maybe, once the world is back to how it must be and she was no longer troubled, he could finally explore the feelings he had for her. He realizes that he was naive not to consider that she may already have a family of her own. He has fallen in love with someone who won’t be able to return his affections.

28) But Goku doesn’t get the time to mope, because at that moment, Piccolo’s ki flares and he tells Chi-Chi angrily to get out of his sight, that he would kill her if she tried coming back. Chi-Chi tries to beg one more time, and barely manages to avoid a warning blast. Goku jumps from his hiding place, grabs Chi-Chi and flees. As they fly home, Chi-Chi cries; she has lost her chance to turn everything back to normal.

29) The next morning, they’re both quiet. Goku is aware that Chi-Chi had been crying all night. He feels sorry for her. Not knowing what else to do, he offers to spar, “Just take all your frustrations out on me. A good spar will make you feel better, even if just a little.” So they spar, although all Goku does is block so as to avoid hurting her. He’s pleasantly surprised to see that she knows proper martial arts, like she’s had formal training. He lets her exhaust her energy and all her feelings, and finally, when she’s panting and can’t go on anymore, he sits down with her and tells her, “Maybe we’ll all wake up and everything will return to normal eventually. Or maybe we won’t and we’re stuck here. But there’s nothing we can do but wait and see. I know this isn’t what you want but this is all that we have.”

30) It isn’t easy for Chi-Chi to accept but she knows that Goku is right. So she nods. And they resume living the way they do for the next several weeks. It’s almost the same as in Chi-Chi’s real life, except she and Goku aren’t intimate in this AU and they have no children. She still hasn’t revealed to him what their true relationship is, and she’s not aware that Goku knows she’s married but thinks it’s to someone else. Goku maintains his distance because of what he thinks he knows, but as time goes by his feelings grow stronger. He begins to consider confessing. If Chi-Chi is stuck here forever, then her marriage is moot. If reality gets restored... well, maybe they’d forget everything and it won’t matter.

31) So one day, Goku tells her he thinks he loves her. He loves everyone, but he loves her differently. He loves her the way Bulma loves Yamcha, and Krillin loves 18, the way Chi-Chi must love her husband. And he knows it’s selfish of him to confess to her when he knows her situation, but he can’t hold it in anymore. Chi-Chi is surprised and is on the verge of telling him that she is actually married to him, but...

32) Piccolo arrives and demands to speak to Chi-Chi in private. Reluctantly, Goku stands back as the two talk. In Piccolo’s meditations over the past several weeks, since he and Chi-Chi talked, he had been getting visions, vague at first and then clearer and clearer until finally, he begins to suspect that these visions are memories from the "reality” that Chi-Chi had talked about. So as a test, he asks her, “What is the name of your son and who is the father?” And Chi-Chi answers truthfully, “His name is Gohan. He is the son of Son Goku. He has a brother, Goten.” And with this Piccolo is convinced. He announces that he is ready to cooperate.

33) In the excitement following Piccolo’s announcement, Chi-Chi forgets to clarify with Goku the nature of their relationship. They set out for Kami’s Tower immediately.

34) Kami notices that Goku isn’t as enthusiastic as Chi-Chi at the thought of finally restoring reality and talks to him in private. Goku confesses his feelings. He feels guilty because a part of him is upset at the turn of events. He’s going to lose Chi-Chi. His heart hurts at the thought. But he knows that the right thing to do is support her. And Kami tells him not to worry. “The pain is temporary. After all, this is only a dream. When you wake up, reality will have been restored, and you will have no memory of everything that has transpired here, including those feelings that hurt you so.”

35) As Goku ponders at Kami’s words, Kami and Piccolo prepare to fuse, with Kami as the dominant body to retain his Dragon Ball making powers. When the fuse is complete, Kami is a young man again (though not as young as Piccolo Jr.) and he confirms with Chi-Chi about the properties of the Dragon Balls she used to wish herself into non-existence. “Three wishes, but only two if one is a big wish like reviving multiple people at once,” she says.

36) The Dragon Balls have been created. All that is left is to track them down again and wish. Goku and Chi-Chi thank Kami and set off immediately. In a couple of days, with hardly any rest or sleep, they manage to gather all 7. But as Chi-Chi begins to call for Shenron, Goku stops her. “We get 2 wishes, right?” he asks. “Can I get the first one?” Chi-Chi thought it was an odd request; this AU will cease to exist after her wish, so what good would wishing for anything serve? But she tells him he can go ahead.

37) They call Shenron, and Goku declares his wish... “I wish to retain my memories of Chi-Chi and the time we spent together, even after the world goes back to normal. I don’t want to forget her, or my feelings for her.” Goku had been thinking about Kami’s advice and realized that although it hurt to lose Chi-Chi, he’d rather have memories of her than none at all. The time they spent together was much too precious to forget.

38) Chi-Chi is deeply touched. With tears in her eyes, she steps forward to embrace him, “Thank you for everything,” she says, “and I love you, too, my husband.” Then before Goku could react any further, she gives Shenron her wish to restore the world back to the state it was before she wished she hadn’t existed.

39) In a clearing near the Son household, Chi-Chi wakes up to see the faces of her husband and her two sons worriedly looking down at her. She sits up and hugs her children. The wish worked. She’s back! Gohan and Goten exist! And then she spots the Dragon Balls on the ground behind them, all 7 of them.

40) Goten is the first to speak, “Mother, I’m sorry we’re late coming home on your birthday. We didn’t know what to get you, so we gathered the Dragon Balls so we could ask Shenron for the perfect gift...” But Chi-Chi cuts him off. “I have nothing else to wish for. Our family is complete, and that’s all that I need to be happy.”

41) Much, much later, after the family had dinner and the two boys are asleep, Chi-Chi finds Goku wide awake in bed, uncharacteristic of him as he usually falls asleep straight away after a huge meal. “Chi-Chi,” he says, “I think I had a strange dream while awake. Was it a dream or did that really happen? Did you really wish... not to exist?” When Chi-Chi confirms his suspicions, he sits up and hugs her. “Aren’t you happy here?” And Chi-Chi says, “I was just upset because I felt like nobody appreciated me, like nobody loved me. But I know better now. I’m sorry.” They stay silent for a while, and then Chi-Chi teases “Well, I guess something good still came out of it, right? Now I’m convinced that you’d still have fallen for me even if we hadn’t been promised to each other.” Goku chuckles, and with a grin, he tells her, “What? Just now? I've known that all along.”

THE END. Hope you enjoyed reading that giant outline!

#gochi #chichi #goku #dbz

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