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zrtranscripts · 1 year ago

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Season 10, Mission 4: Can't Stop the Boss

Not My Apocalypse

[van creaks]

BRENT VALMONT: Alright, Five. Let’s hash this out. I really hate to show my temper, but you’ve left me no choice. Are you sitting comfortably in the back of that van? Got your Valmont headset tight? Good, because I know you’ll want to hear who I’ve got speaking next.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Five? Five, it’s me. It’s Sam. It’s going to be okay, Five. Everything’s going to be alright.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: Spoiler alert: it’s not.

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: Valmont said I have to tape this message. I... I don’t know how long it’s been since Tunisia. He showed me the footage of your last run to the Maghreb border. Oh, you were so fast, leaving the whole Red Scorpion Army behind! They never would have caught you... if he hadn’t have been waiting in that boat. Amelia always said we shouldn’t trust him. Of all the ways to find out she was right.

Valmont says he’s got a mission for you, Five. He showed me the brief. It’s just a simple item grab. I don’t have every detail, but nobody’s about, nobody gets hurt... and what they’ll do to you if you refuse... I think you have to do it, Five. Just this once, I think you have to do his run.

[tape recorder clicks]

BRENT VALMONT: I know you miss him, Five. I can see it on your face. Those Valmont headcams work both ways! So I’ll make this really simple for you. You turned down all my other jobs. The assassination in Bolivia, the firebombing in Berlin! But this one’s non-negotiable. Get it done within the hour or Sam loses a thumb.

[van door slides open]

Back of the trucks’ cracking open. Look at all that daylight spilling in! I know I’ve got you fighting mad, so let’s channel that rage! Down the ramp, full speed ahead, just follow the street, straight along the cobbles, under the big stone arches. Don’t think of it as helping me. Think of it as saving him. Here, I’ll even let Sam play you out!

[tape recorder clicks]

SAM YAO: It’ll be okay, Five. I know it will. Remember what Janine’s always saying? When things are at their darkest, a runner strikes a match. You keep the hope. No matter what, you keep that flame alive. And promise me, the first chance you get, promise me you’ll run.

[birds coo, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: Mind the pigeons, Five! But take in the sights! Italy, the Vatican, St Peter’s Square itself. Look at those grand colonnades on either side, the great Egyptian spire in the middle. Though the basilica’s looking a bit dowdy, isn’t it, the way the dome’s collapsed in? Head straight for its entrance, past the burned-out popemobile. It’s through those great big pillars where the tourists used to queue.

It’s been hard on landmarks, Five, the end of the world. The Eiffel Tower, Washington DC, poor old Red Square. Not exactly sitting pretty since Van Ark’s Armageddon did the renovators in. Oh, I know. I told you the apocalypse was mine. I didn’t mean it literally. It was Sigrid’s passion project, Van Arks’ silly plague. [sighs] He was such a stupid genius, wasn’t he? Took the blame for the disease to please that humorless wife of his. Invented immortality, but he couldn’t get the hang of spin.

ANNIE knew what they were planning, Five, long before it happened. I had her watching Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, too. You don’t become a billionaire without probing your rivals. We caught their little scheme to end the world, and yes, I could have stopped it, it’s true, but I know a bargain when I see one. The whole world on fire sale! I’m not the one made the end, but I like to think I’m who it’s for.

[door clatters open] This is a grand old entrance, isn’t it? That distant gilded ceiling, the sunswept marble floor. All those saintly statues watching with white eyes. [building creaks] Careful! Sidestep to your left. The ceiling isn’t stable. Some of it’s coming down.

You, me, mortal peril! It’s just like the old times, eh? Admit it, I was quite the charmer, running with your Abel crew. You were all so wonderfully obliging. I always needed Sigrid gone, and V-types can be a pain, but I never lied about it being a good time, Five. As far as handy decoys go, your lot were the best.

See that body, beneath the fallen pillar? That’s Valmont Runner Sixty-Four. Last one in before you. I warned her that this mission was a risk, but still, she volunteered! It’s amazing, the loyalty people give you in a post-apocalyptic world. So much for so little. You dig them out of burning rubble, offer them beans and a bed, and suddenly their life is yours. I used to run orphanages on the same principle. Shame my finest runner’s busy on assignment. She’d have at least survived the masonry, unlike poor old Sixty-Four.

I know what you’re thinking, Five. How many have gone in ahead of you? Oh, I’ve lost count! There’s something I need in that city, something hard to find, but you’ve got an advantage. You’ve seen it before. We just need to be careful, with all that panacea in your blood. My doctors have been draining what, a pint of plasma at a time over the last few months? That’s plenty of samples. Your body’s a little panacea factory now, thanks to that injection you stole! But we’ve got big ambitions. Things will go much smoother if they can harvest a whole lot more!

[building creaks] Better get a move on, Five! That building really doesn’t like my people. The ceiling almost sounds upset! Turn right at the papal altar, take the tour guide passage to the Sistine Chapel. And ignore the fallen runners up ahead. There’s no point dwelling on them, Five. There’s no profit counting the dead.

BRENT VALMONT: Look up at the ceiling, Five! Soak that culture in. The Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo’s masterpiece! All those gorgeous frescoes painted on the walls. Saints, sinners, serpents. And Adam, on the ceiling, about to high five God! [sighs] I was planning to steal this, but ANNIE says it wouldn’t survive the airlift. [sighs] Follow the frescoes down the corridor, the one with all the maps. Try to find an open window. You need to get outside.

Moonchild used to say my collections were “bad karma,” that it was wrong to try to cage the world. This, from Lady Mind Control. She reminded me of my mother, Five. Ghastly, hippy-drippy woman. Stole my father’s fortune, frittered it on “charity.” Said the world was full of wonders, but not a single one was ours! A thing’s not beautiful until you own it, that’s the dirty, ugly truth. Knowing something might be taken is a spoiling blemish. I used to tell Amelia that. Maybe when I take her world, she’ll learn.

It’s hard to find people who understand, Five. I wake up every morning with this screaming hunger in my heart, the torture of ambition. No matter what I have, no matter who I own, I know I can do better. It’s like an engine in my belly. I know I can own more!

There, an open window. Climb out to the courtyard, quick! Have you heard much lately from that Moonchild in your head? I bet you haven’t. Maybe my panacea killed her. Maybe she’s finally dead. The Cortile del Belvedere A pope once paraded his elephant here. That’s my kind of style! Just parked cars and a broken fountain now. See that big beige building over there? That’s the Vatican library with the Apostolic Archives next door. Those archives hold the secret storeroom of the Catholic church, and what we want’s inside.

[laughs] I know what you’re hoping, Legs. You think my wife will come and save you, Amelia and the rest. But the truth is, they’re not even in the game. I’ve got decoys with your shirt on from Peru to Paraguay, corpses with your DNA slung into shallow graves. I’ve got moles in the Maghreb, spies in the UK. I’ve got Amelia spun in circles, always looking the wrong way.

Sigrid, Van Ark, Moonchild, they were all small fry. Couldn’t even keep their Armageddon to a timetable. ANNIE didn’t expect their gray plague to get loose so soon. I wasn’t quite ready to put the Ministry straight down. But I was miles ahead in stockpiling, and I’ve had eons to prep since. I knocked down half the satellites, razed the global village. No more cheap communications, no calling distant ears for help. The market should be nice and manageable, survivors stuck in isolated pockets. I’ve got bases like Red Scorpion all over the world, allies in armies you’ve never heard. I know what happened to the last aircraft carrier, why zombies scream on roads. I am a one-man superpower. Your friends don’t have a chance!

Uh-oh! Zombie priests crawling out of the cars, and those look like Swiss Guards lurching from the buildings, the elite protectors of the Vatican with feathered caps and halberds high. Well, that one’s got halberd sticking through his chest, but what can you expect from zoms? They’re closing in behind you, still guarding the library even in death. There’s a car crashed through the archive wall. That’s your way inside. Get into that building, then down to the basement. Do not let them catch you! Go!

BRENT VALMONT: That’s it, Five. Keep going straight. They call this part of the archive the Bunker, where the most precious texts are kept. Frankly, I’m disappointed. I expected flaming torches, spotlights, demons dancing around the Holy Grail, not just endless dusty bookshelves. [zombie growls] Careful, there are zombies crushed together between some of those shelves. Stay clear of the books. Their arms are clawing out between them.

Do you know what the worst part of this church is, Five? It’s that it isn’t dead. There’s a whole new pope in Istanbul readying teams to nab these treasures, and they’re not the only holdouts. There are still rabbis, and imams, Buddhist monks, Mormons, Quakers, Sikhs. People who believe in gods, or hope, or just each other, joining hands to cope. Little groups like Abel brightening the dark.

It makes me so damn angry! It’s... not the apocalypse I bought! I wanted Mad Max, the Walking Dead, the first bit of The Road! Ruins, misery, hopeless dread, and I’d swoop in with my hoarded cans and lift the peons up, have them rebuild in my image, grateful for the helping hand. ANNIE predicted overwhelming collapse, once the dust settled. You were supposed to get nuked offing Sigrids or implode like Sage. Those Last Riders had the right idea, until they turned V-type. But no, you had to flourish, didn’t you? All over the world. The groups that defy the odds. The Maghreb, Arcadia, Abel, Vashisht. That galling, glowing 1% like aniseed in the stew!

There, see that staircase behind the red cordon with a vault door in the bottom? That’s the hidden heart of this bunker. A room that’s not on any maps. If there were demons locked away, that’s where they’d be. It’s time for the big drum roll, Five. The reveal of why you’re here. Remember your trip to Moore Island, the [red god] and the cult? Amelia never let me read the Edda, but the church has another copy hidden in their vault. Moonchild stole a partial transcript before they upped security. My runners don’t know what it looks like, but you’ve seen it before.

[zombies moan] Damn! Coming up the stairs, are those - red robes and pointy hats. Oh no, lots of zombie cardinals, and they’re in your way. The others are closing in behind you, too. Swiss Guards, priests, tourists in backpacks. There’s no going back. Forward is your only shot. Those are halberds lying on the floor. The guards must have made a stand here. Quickly, pick one up. [metal clinks] You’re going to have to rush them straight down to the vault. I can hack the door with ANNIE. That blade looks blunt, but you can at least push them back. Move it, Five, get down the stairs! Not sure what a zombie bite will do with all those Valmont patents in your blood. Don’t let the cardinals grab you. Run!

[door clatters open]

BRENT VALMONT: Now this is more like it! Big, oblong chamber full of sealed glass cases. Ancient scrolls, mysterious parchments. No sign of the Holy Grail, but I bet it’s around here somewhere. Find my Edda, Five. You don’t have much time.

[alarm blares]

This room is pumped full of an inert gas to preserve the relics. We don’t have the proper codes. I can’t hold it open long. See those dead runners on the floor? They all thought they’d find my prize, and they all died choking anyway. Funny thing, Five. None of them blamed me. Now that’s lasting ownership, the kind that leaves them dying but still feeling the love.

Aha, you’ve spotted something. The big tome on the plinth. Smash the casing and grab it! Use that halberd, now! [glass breaks, alarm beeps, zombies growl] Those zoms are pouring in behind you, they’re blocking the way out. There’s another vault door straight ahead, right across the archive. Move it, Five, and hold the Edda tight! If you die of oxygen deprivation, Sam’s the one I’m sending in there next. Speed up, before the door snaps shut. Run!

[birds caw, wings flap]

BRENT VALMONT: You did it, Legs! You’re clear of the archive and clear of the Vatican, footloose on the streets of Rome. And you’ve got my Edda. Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, you could destroy it, tear it up and run, but what would happen to poor Sam, and Janine, and Peter, too? That’s right.

[engine rumbles] My truck’s approaching. Drop the halberd, get inside. [metal clinks, van door slides open] There you go, Five. Straight into the back. I’ll see you get a raise for this. That means extra cushions in your cell!

The apocalypse hasn’t gone as planned, it’s true. But I’ve had a fix brewing for years. You pushed up my timeline with that scramble through Tunisia. I was worried we might not pull it off, but now I’ve got the panacea and the Edda. I’m all set for the apocalypse, take two.

The panacea, Five, that’s my little joke. You see, it is a cure, of sorts. The cure for all my ills. Soon, I won’t have any rivals. The whole world will be my orphanage. Amelia, Abel, and the rest, they’ll be swept away, or transformed, replaced by broken, helpless, loving people. Like Adam on the ceiling, Five. They’ll all be looking up... to me.

#zombies run #zrs10 #s10m4 #can't stop the boss #zr transcript #zrs10 spoilers

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talkview · 2 months ago

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His jealousy was to have him give me to others who wanted to be me - through the hate crime of the Honky that wants to own black men ButtFuckers biggest Dicks. Yeah they like Big Big Dick. And they wanted that to have been hidden and I wanted to show them something.

https://www.tumblr.com/talkview/762683821836664832/was-supposed-to-have-been-bad-enough-to?source=share

Last Account Closing is the getaway car in the metro bus that arrives when seeing I saw the lookalike to me with the red and dark color blue or black - as I came back across the street from identifying the signal from the girl to the van then to the Spick man and woman there waiting was the one deemed for me or as me - caught - then had a bus waiting knowing the ploy that rushed up immediately to sweep up the Asian Male who was to be the Two Toned Pink White claiming my work through my body profile - handled by StreetNOW News reporting by the preyed victim hoped to have been victimized but tougher and fought back and WON. Now she is JAILED! Good for such a Criminal ah?

And back to earlier.

At 608 AM EST Time zone, towards Tenleytown Friendship Heights in Washington DC reported by Terry Dwayne Ashford Son of Slain Wilma as StreetNOW News - on Thursday Morning September 26, 2024 on bus 33 Route bus ID 4570 - you have the replacement of one black woman to the Muslim N8GGER FAGGIT black woman 👠 signaling at ME Signaling sitting right behind the couple who was told to wait at the beginning of that part. That white shirt, dark pant worn by a security guard breaching gets off as soon as she interpret the part written by Terry Dwayne Ashford. Replacing that stalker is a Hispanic Woman yet in black holding a green umbrella wearing white shoes with white shoestrings.

Okay. Time has come to 640 AM EST Time zone LIVE Streaming and we have arrived at the friendship height station.

Closing the reporting for this morning of Thursday morning that began at 5 AM EST Time zone strategically sleeping on the benches in Washington DC - Terry Dwayne Ashford's last point of this report is something you would not believe and that you would not have seen or known if it were done to you right in your faces.

Ending with the white girl posing as Terry Dwayne Ashford Reporting for diseases getting benefits of others like Jess had tried - doing the work and having the knowledge. The white girl Honky plastered up at the front of the bus before everyone assuming N8GGERS and Dummies or Both - wearing two tones of pink light as dark pinks jacket over a light blue sky colored jean colored but with light colored faded blue jeans too and white tennis shoes, who got off at CVS following the most disturbing event of the MPD profiled Heavy Black Male Muslim N8GGER FAGGIT, Over 400 lbs in tight booty pants profile on the same bus then - who was approached by a dark skin black woman with a rainbow 🌈 colored headband sitting in the handicap seating.

The offensive part of this whole sneak shallow honky representation is the fat four hundred lbs of Muslim deprived hard peter blubber wannabe smart - is he failed to do his own homework and is now now placed to steal from the cheat sheets used by MPD following Me.

The black woman with the bubble gets off at the Panera Bread Store Tenleytown stop 🛑 and walks towards it while the white girl Honky plastered got off at the next stop 🛑 CVS Store and walked backwards to the same Panera Bread Store Tenleytown. The white was to benefit from the reporting done by Terry Dwayne Ashford sitting watching and pose as him using color codes and to make the connection - the white girl was to get with the stranger couple of the sized out black four hundred lbs black male representing Kenny McBeal - and Jess was to have been the Two Tones of Pink that stood in front of Me, Terry Dwayne Ashford on the bus seeing it all.

The black woman was to have been the trader. And that all was to have been done by way of the bus driver knowing - who stopped the bus at friendship heights and drove back the other way as I had passed my stop and had to take it backwards.

As if that wasn't enough - got off at bus stop 🛑 ending in 2389 for my morning breakfast - and identified the orange soda cup as a marker signal and I left it there to see what was coming. And there came the same Bald Headed White Man from twice before this being the third time - with a bald head plastered up in my eyes for the crime Ploy which saw me Terry Dwayne Ashford Reporting getting the photos of the bus stop of the business we call journalism.

Tossing the orange soda into the streets to show the HONKY Sneak Stalker what we KNEW when the Honky Low Class Police Dept Remedial 'You're No Smarter than a Third Grader" in a ploy was delivered back to the Honky on the Scat.

The shit - yeah 👍 is what you wouldn't know about. The session where I intentionally extended the creative flow to shit coming out of a person's ass of a character- to the actual doings by Terry White Man who was placed at the bus Stop 🛑 1002389 waiting this morning.

Police Dept Remedial 'You're No Smarter than a Third Grader" belligerent WHORE Ploy handled by StreetNOW News reporting by owner Pres Journalist in Chief Executive Investigator of News, Terry Dwayne Ashford.

And there you have the closed reporting this morning at 708 AM EST Time zone LIVE having seen the white male police dept officer passed at Van Ness at Wisconsin Avenue NW Washington DC Streets timed for the anticipatory ending of this report, who thought no one was watching. The police department officer was in a sedan this time representing the profile of Terry Dwayne Ashford at assuming claiming of the report he hoped wa closing right then mapped to the coupling of spicks at 710 AM EST Time zone LIVE showing in the photos.

And a photo of me still at the bus stop 🛑 1002389 at 711 AM EST Time zone closing the report - where the SPICKs was to rush to get in position for this thieving moment same slick SPICK Girl of the stalker course beforehand.

Realized at 612 AM EST Time zone that the Muslim N8GGER FAGGIT is wearing blue pants hiding his face under black hoodie sitting in a shit toilet seat position pooching same way his black woman did at the bus stop 🛑.

The black woman signals to the whiter man as he walked onto the bus 4570 in green mapped to that of the Hispanic. He's a man and she's a womanb.

So - for you all for you - whodunnit?

As Terry Dwayne Ashford Reporting as owner President CEO Founder of StreetNOW News - most recent broadcast detailed the party photos which surfaced from StreetNOW's Datguy Ventures Terry Dwayne Ashford Reporting via Datguy Ventures Magazines - last night - StreetNOW News showed photos of PDiddy's Publically Kissing several men in the mouth on tongue kissing form.

The men were said to have been Clive Davis, Jay-Z, One of the Boys to Men stars and others.

And this morning StreetNOW News will focus on the Beyonce Divorce said done by Beyonce before this report.

On Today with Terry Dwayne Ashford - our rundown will include updates about the filling that is currently un- confirmed News on StreetNOW's Rundown storyboard development list as executive producer before handing the story over to a field or studio producer to bring for you the Show.

Shameful ah is what I say personally to myself, by the same token. I will keep my opinions to myself for the business of the show.

Look now, taking this story back to the beginning on first bus first transport of the day the bus route S2 - having gotten onto the bus at The GA Avenue Stop at the target store. He acts as if the ole DIRT is sleeping.

She, a black woman disgusted at seeing the black man and my responding disgust - decided to be THE Disgust aiming at the Bladk Man - that tried attacking my peace at walking into the bus.

You wouldn't know that the black woman was decently responding to the APE of the Black Man. You looking from the outside would not Know what the Black Man Is or was or what the black man had done - to me by me walking peacefully into the bus.

The black woman to me - is with me - mad at the low class Black Ass Man who thinks no one sees him. A shit show in blue by his bag is the black man- that should be destroyed. If anyone is to be Destroyed.

As the black woman responds to the disgusting Black Man- showing signs of a Balling Hooker Whore wanting to be a basketball player.

Even Gets Comfortable - Reporting The Start of Walking OnTo the Bus S2 ID 🆔# 7263 (completely Peaceful and Quiet almost total Silence)

In the footage, you can see me turning my bag and then rubbing the bag - the black portion and rolling my eyes 👀 saying Fuck Off you nasty Black N8GGER.

It is then that I also began an ACT of my own - by taking the rubbing of the black and balding up my fist and cursing it out before holding the black on the bag down in the act saying "FUCKKKKKK YOUUUU!" You N8GGER FAGGIT.

That was an ACT that was an actual script being played OUT timed - at the Light Skin Muslim N8GGER Who is not just a Faggit but a piece of shit of a person too - my act was timing to his holding down his head and peeking up at ME Signaling to me under the seat - with his black all black basketball shoes with black shoestrings, with a white knee strip.

Nothing on this earth is so disgusting than someone anyone who would be an ACT classes below humans as this is Defined as The N8GGERS.

Now take a look at the woman who pushes the Man off the seat with her and lays down on the two person seating and shows her belly. OMG

In the end - it is the HONKY again trough and through the police dept that has told even the innocent people they can't talk about it only could choose sides in their actions.

It is the HONKY ruling the N8GGERS.

The Little Poor People Project by Honkies of that that navigates Africa as the overt white people's project. It's all dumb ass as in basketball courts that have the black man still aiding the African attack by white project. The Dumb Muslim Man now shows or hides his face - at the Blue black Nappy Headed woman of the earth still a problem for her own self. Nappy Headed blue with black shoes and white overcoat rubbing her leg like the Honky light skin man rubbing as Bobby Conway while Terry Dwayne Ashford sits in the house having come around their prey! Their prey who is stronger than puss holes or mud holes - or naps or stretches or the rolling of a monkeys eyes- wiggling her fingers now after being nothing but a baboon with her tail in the air. The black smarter than most of the blacker monkeys is now shamed and sit with his head down.

Two buses and two events of Black Attacks On Individuals known as Wilma and Wayne by orders of the HONKY who accosted Wilma's Children all except for Wayne Ashford who is reporting for you today. The HONKY attack was a plan given to David Ashford to be sent up from Weird Weir representing Asian - to pretend to save Wilma from her divorce with three children - to attack her and to take the properties as Wilma was the heir to the plantation owned by Modena. The Big Muslim N8GGER went into FAGGITism to help the HONKY attack and steal people's properties through the black man GAY man who pretends to like women.

And you have what StreetNOW has proven. The use of the biggest Muslim N8GGER FAGGIT HONKY ButtFuckers to have tried to pull the honky police dept ploy out of its own hole which is the grave the HONKY Dug For Themselves.

Bus #2 is Bus 33 Route ID 4570 - towards Tenleytown Friendship Heights in Washington DC reported by Terry Dwayne Ashford Son of Slain Wilma as StreetNOW News - on Thursday Morning September 26, 2024.

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2700k-moogie · 11 months ago

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here here the tierlist

this is a mix between personal preference and actual quality, along with some grudges, list under the cut

Diamine - Brilliant Red: gorgeous blood red, my go-to for writing and linework. Literally looks like someone got murdered when spilled or in droplets, and stains my hands really hilariously.

Organics Studio - Copper Turquoise: a nice sheen & shader ink, very pretty in scan, picture, and person. Fucking hates coming out of pens though, and congealed into a weird booger one time.

Diamine - Golden Honey: my general use shader ink, very pretty, and the first ink i ever got, accidentally spent 30 bucks on the bottle. It's great for everything, but a bit inconsistent and prone to being illegible. Despite not being in S, it is my favorite.

Pilot - Iroshizuku Yu-Yake: very very pretty deep orange, i got it recently and haven't used it much, but the color is thick and beautiful. Contrasts nice with $10 Teal.

Van Dieman's - Night Series Moonlit Lake: really pretty glitter sheen shader, all of the favorite sorts of things an ink can do! Comes out of pens nicely and is dark and legible. Unfortunately it looks like crap in diffuse lighting when you can't see the glitter or the beautiful pinky red sheen.

Robert Oster - Ten Dollar Teal: I haven't really used this ink at all, but it looks pretty fantastic, especially against the Yu-Yake. It has a stupid name though, but apparently that's because it's based off the color of Australian $10 bills.

Diamine - 1:3 ratio Golden Honey and Yellow: mixed by me, a very broad color range and more vibrant than golden honey by itself. Haven't really used it and i don't really like it mostly because the pen i put it in is complete ass.

Diamine - Kensington Blue: apparently this ink was used to sign some nuclear arms treaty. It's a shader, but doesn't vary much. Kinda wishing i had got something more akin to a cheap blue ballpoint's ink though, so kinda miffed.

KWZ - Azure #4: What i'd assume i'd get from mixing Copper Turquoise and Kensington Blue. Has a very slight silvery sheen to it, but i haven't used it much so i deem it average.

Diamine - Earl Grey: I got this one to color my character Milk, but it's kinda an icky greenish color i didn't expect. Diamine has a yellower grey that i should have gotten instead. It comes out very nicely though.

La Kaligrafica - Nero: I got this ink today, it's a thick black with a slight purple tint. I'd been thinking about getting a black ink, but i realize they're kinda boring. Does bode well for fine lines, though.

Diamine - Meadow: I like this color a lot but it just doesn't super jive with me, if i'm gonna be honest. Has a nice shader quality with a light green to a dark green, but i wish i got something more vibrant. Comes out of pens like a motherfucker, too.

Diamine - Aurora Borealis: I don't even remember how i got this one and i just am not a particularly a big fan. Very dark and a bit green along with a silvery sheen, but boring.

Lamy Crystal - Peridot: Deep greeny blue. Like Aurora borealis but slightly better. Still kinda boring.

Papier Plume - Pecan: My sister got me this one. I just don't like it. It is icky and not even a very rich brown.

Diamine - Yellow: completely illegible and way too vibrant for my taste.

Octopus - Red Turtle: kinda a purpley brown. It stains the bottle and just kinda looks diseased.

Wearinguel - Juliet: My first glitter ink. Largely illegible and the glitter doesn't stick to the page very well. Pretty tho.

Deatrementis - Lavender: i hate it. boring and lame as shit.

The Fucking Guys

Hello all 18 of my inks! (plus 2 mixes)

It may be somewhat surprising to note that i only got one ink today, but i did as well get a fancy pen. So i decided, since it is a pretty great dip pen, to try out all of my inks.

Here they all are!

And some low angle shots to show off the sheen inks!

Its fuckin fantastic

merry joddamn chrystler

#mogreblog #inking #long post

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theji · 3 years ago

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Today, Wang Yibo made me cry.

But it's for a good thing. Seeing him in the water, I was inexplicably touched. I knew he was there to help, to make a real impact, but I never thought he would head directly to ground zero, much less to join the search and rescue team. I thought this part of the work would be left to the authorities or the local Red Cross volunteers. I have no doubt they would take precautions but any rescue and relief mission carries inherent risks. In this case, with all that flood water and debris, there will be sanitation issues and risk of water borne diseases etc. What's more we're still in the midst of a global pandemic.

A couple of years ago I had the privilege of visiting a SEA country to interview the locals in the aftermath of a major tsunami. By the time I went there, a couple of years had passed and rehabilitation works had already begun. But still, some conditions in the villages were still not ideal. I recall spending close to 7 hours in the van, travelling on bumpy roads, just to get to a remote village. Hearing about their fears back then, the devastation, the losses, it was a humbling experience for a city girl like me.

I've also met and spoken to plenty of volunteers who take part in disaster rescue missions. Anyway, my point is, disaster relief and rescue work is no mean feat, you gotta be physically and mentally strong, in addition to having the heart to help. Which is why I'm so touched by Yibo.

To clarify, I'm not downplaying or undermining the efforts of the other volunteers and donors. I'm not saying only Yibo's efforts count. But this is a Yizhan blog so...

Yibo is a good boy. I think this bit is clear to everyone who looks at him with an open mind. He may not be perfect and I'm not asking everyone to love him but he doesn't deserve all that hate.

Stay safe, Bobo! Come back soon.

#wang yibo #fandom reflections

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Sorry to be annoying but its been a worm in my brain about what's going to happen to the nauseous villain. Whats going to be their reaction with the villains? Are they going to just insist that they want to go home and the villains won't understand that they want to go to the facility they were trained into nauseousness in? Again sorry for being annoying!

Sorry this took so long! I tried a little bit of a new storytelling device in here-- a frame story. I really hope you enjoy! This series is so so fun, and so very whumpy.

Continued from here, first part can be found here.

CW//Emetophobia, restraints, sedation, insults and swearing, mentions of poisoning, muzzles

“They’re sleeping.”

Doctor’s tone was quiet enough to nearly be described as a whisper, words barely audible above the background noise of the base’s medical wing. Based simply upon their facial expression, it seemed as though they, too, would very much like to be asleep as well-- lines of fatigue were carved deep under their eyes, showing that they’d been awake for far, far too long.

The bandage wrapped tightly about their forearm displayed an entirely different issue, but it seemed to be one that they were far too exhausted to pay much mind to.

“They’re sleeping?” Supervillain echoed. Fatigue crept, too, at their bones, yet it was not an exhaustion wrought by work. Rather, it had been brought on by worry.

“Mhm.” The doctor spoke with a nod. “For now.”

“They’re... They’re okay, then?”

“They’re...” They bit their lower lip. “They’ve calmed down.”

“Are they themself again?” Supervillain’s voice turned to the epitome of eagerness, almost childish in their excitement. “Are they acting- They’re acting normal?”

A moment of tense, sorrowful silence.

“No.” Doctor shook their head after a long pause. “No, they aren’t. I’m sorry. We had to sedate them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” They repeated. “They were getting worse.”

“It’s okay. I trust your judgement. You did what you had to.” The supervillain murmured in a low voice. “Can I see them? Is... Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Supervillain couldn’t ignore the way that sickness threatened to boil within their chest at the words. They could see them. They could see their friend, their ward, their kid. And, now that they were asleep, they couldn’t be terrified.

They couldn’t be terrified of their own friend. Not while they were unconscious.

There was a horribly sorrowful air to the way that Doctor moved, turning back towards the hospital room door, as though they were leading their boss to a morgue. The knob clicked as it was turned, and the room beyond was unveiled.

Villain was sleeping. At long last, their eyes were closed-- the slightest peace visible there, even as it was buried beneath tension and twitching eyelids.

And, yet, the remnants of their terror could be seen clear as day. The restraints made sure of that. There was almost more leather, metal, and fabric upon their body than there was skin.

The muzzle was what drew their attention the quickest. A contraption of black mesh, held in place by leather straps-- straps that danced in tandem with those holding an oversized pair of headphones to their skull. Similar lines of leather criss-crossed the rest of their body in an elaborate pattern, holding down their wrists, their ankles, their midsection, their limbs, and even their head, eliminating all by the slightest of movements. Odd, leather pieces had been fastened over their hands: Mitt cuffs, keeping their fingers curled and hands useless.

A particularly odd restraint had been placed upon their upper arm and wrist-- a sort of flat, plastic, white-stained board, with straps to hold their wrist and elbow in place. Between the straps, an IV line ran, fastened down with all manner of surgical tape.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed as though Doctor couldn’t stop themself from repeating the phrase. “I’m so sorry. I know they’re- They’re our friend. I didn’t want to have to tie them down like this...”

Supervillain understood. They did, really, even as they felt as though their heartstrings were being played with a violin’s bow. Villain was their friend, they saw them as almost their child, in some ways, even as they would never admit to. They had once been the kindest, the youngest among them, and now...

“I trust your judgement.” They spoke, voice nearly quivering with a whimper. “I know you would only do what you have to.”

Doctor nodded somberly.

“They... They were really scared. We don’t know what was wrong with them. We still don’t.”

“Are you they going to be okay?” Supervillain couldn’t help themself from wandering nearer to the bedside. Staring down at their friend, shackled like a wild beast. “They look...” They trailed off.

“We’re doing everything we can.” Of course they were, but would it be enough? “We don’t know what’s wrong. I’m really sorry.”

“You did what you had to.” They truly wished that the medic would cease their apologies. They had only helped. They had spent so long in their own quarters, worrying and pacing until they wore through their socks.

“Do you know what happened? Before we arrived? No one has had a clear story.”

“Well...”

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“They’re going to be scared.” Supervillain’s voice was marked by the slightest of nervous prickles as they moved around their vehicle, from driver’s seat to rear doors. It was a van of considerable size and white bulk. They had taken it for a reason, had intended for Villain to ride in the back, since the beginning. For their own safety. So they wouldn’t be seen. As it had turned out, however, there was another benefit to that fact.

So it seemed, every villain in the base had gathered in the underground garage. Some of them, they noted, didn’t even live within its walls-- someone had invited friends for this occasion. They had specifically been told not to do that.

But, they were here, now, and there was little to be done about that fact. A crowd of twenty-five, bustling with excitement like grade schoolers.

“Everybody back up!” The supervillain called, order ringing out in concrete walls. With just how uncommon their use of commands was, those they spoke to followed their words in an instant, spreading out into a sort of semi-circle formation. “Villain is terrified, right now. Give them space. They’re going right to the medical wing.”

Words in a half-dozen languages buzzed through the gathered crowd.

“Do you get that? Are you guys going to be chill?”

Twenty-five pairs of eyes shot to them, and twenty-five heads nodded.

“Okay. Try to- Just try not to scare them, okay? Please.”

With a nervous gait, Supervillain turned towards their vehicle. Why were they so frightened? This was their friend, after all. Their teammate. They weren’t dangerous-- of course they weren’t, even though the bar holding the van’s rear doors closed may have indicated otherwise to some. It was only for safety reasons, that was all.

They knocked on the doors once, then twice, then slowly, ever so slowly, slid the bar away.

From the back of the van, Villain erupted, as though a wild animal. Had they been waiting at the doors? Struggling at them? Fighting? Certainly they had been, or there would have been no way that they could have leapt with such speed.

The villain crashed to the ground, onto their knees. In an instant, every single person under Supervillain’s orders immediately violated everything they had told them.

‘Swarming’ was the only verb that would be accurate to what occurred in that moment. Nearly every single member of the crowd rushed forth. Some kept at least a foot or two of distance, while more than one crashed right into their toppled-over comrade.

“Villain!”

“You’re okay!”

“I missed you so much!”

“What happened?”

“Where were you?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Are you alright?”

All the concerns, the joys, and the cries raised in volume until they could be described only as a cacophony, a cluster of noise.

The voices were broken only by a scream. A pained scream, and a flash of red. Villain moved nigh-impossibly quickly, teeth gripping around the arm of one who had once been their friend. They tore, leaving great, bloody marks in their wake, as they reared back their head to scream:

“You fucking pieces of shit! Scum! I hate you all! Get away from me, get away from me! I’ll kill you all, I hate-”

Their tirade was ceased only as their body heaved forward, a dribble of bile exploding from their lips, dripping to the floor.

In an instant, the excitement of the scene was gone. The heaving continued, dry gagging spitting out less and less green each time Villain’s body was wracked. By the end, they could only expel air.

When at last they ceased, once more they struck out, teeth hardly missing the neck of another target who seemed to have been selected at random.

“Hold them down. Hold them down!” The cry came from someone in the crowd, someone Supervillain couldn’t identify in their panic. Yet, it was echoed, rippling through those who seemed as though they had been stricken by an odd sort of grief.

“Hold them down!”

And such was done. Four villains moved to hold their hands against Villain’s back, keeping them against the floor, even as they writhed and spat like a beast.

It was then that the medical team arrived. It was then that Supervillain watched their friend, their ward, dragged away, all the while spitting their name as though it was an obscenity.

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“We thought they were sick.” Doctor admitted with a bowed head. “Their behavior seemed consistent with delirium, or some kind of hallucinogen. Between vomiting and confused behavior...”

“Did you find it?” Somehow, the words brought a burgeoning hope to Supervillain’s chest, replacing, in some capacity, the dread that their own story had brought on. “The drug? The- The poison? Or is it a disease? A fever?”

The silence that hung between the two was heavier than lead. At last, the doctor shook their head.

“We don’t know what’s wrong. We did everything we could. The symptoms were consistent with poisoning, and there was no time to test for that, so we acted as though it was.”

“Did you ask them?”

“We did but... They seemed a lot more intent on insulting us than answering any questions.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. We pumped their stomach, and flushed it with charcoal, just for good measure. But... It didn’t help.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if it was a poison, it wasn’t one that was ingested by mouth.”

“But it was a poison?”

“We don’t know that. I’m sorry. A certain time after ingestion, it’s hard to tell. We- We drew some blood. It tested negative for all common narcotics and poisons, but it could be something less common. It’s in the lab, now.”

“When will we know? A few hours?”

“A few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“I’m sorry. It’s slow, I’m so sorry. Until then...”

“What?”

“Until then we’ll manage them, as best as we can. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Supervillain. I’m really sorry. We had to muzzle them. They bit me.” The doctor raised a hand, showing off the bandage they now wore.

“But what if they wanted to talk?”

“It’s only mesh. Stops biting, but not talking. Then, they tried to scratch at us, so we cuffed them. That made them scratch at themself, so, the mitts.”

“And you had to strap them down?”

“When we put in the IV, yes. There was no other way. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just... Weird.”

“To see them tied up like this?”

“Yeah.”

“It is for me, too. I know. But it’s not them.” Doctor looked up, meeting the eyes of their commander. “You need to remember that, yeah? We all do. It’s not really Villain. Whatever is doing this to them, it’s not them.”

“I know. I- I just need to convince myself that that’s true.” Supervillain straightened themself, standing up taller. “What do you recommend? For their care going forward?”

The doctor seemed to sense the change in professionalism, and assumed a similar stance.

“We’ll continue to look into what’s causing their sickness. Until we can find a source, I’m advising nothing ingested by mouth, except for moderate amounts of water.”

“But- What if they get hungry?” And there went all that posturing, gone in an instant. “Won’t they get hungry?”

“We’re already giving them fluids and nutrients by IV. They’ll have all they need to survive.”

“But what if they get hungry?”

“We can give appetite suppressants if needed.” Doctor conceded. “Alongside fluids, I’m advising a constant drip of anti-nausea medication. With how much they were vomiting, choking is a real risk.”

“Okay. Granted, for both. What about... You said they were sedated?”

“That’s your choice, Sir. We sedated them in order to take samples. It’s less distressing for them, to take blood and the like while they’re asleep. The current dosage should wear off in four or so hours, giving them at least some sleep.”

“They need it.”

“They do. They may be unable to fall asleep at night on their own, and we may need to use sedatives to allow them to rest. As for during the day... That’s up to you.”

“What are my options?”

“We can forgo sedation altogether. It isn’t necessary medically, especially now that they have an IV placed. But in that case, they’re likely to be aggressive, and I can’t guarantee that they won’t present harm to themself or to others.

Or, we can provide a small, consistent level of sedative through an IV drip. Enough to keep them calm, and hopefully to quell any aggression. But that may also cause them some distress.”

“I don’t want to sedate them.” Supervillain admitted, after a terribly long pause. “No sedatives. Please.”

“Okay.”

They moved to the bedside, gripping the bedrails with their hands until their knuckles turned white. They were crying, oh, god, they were crying in front of their own medical staff.

“Villain.” They whispered. “Villain, I’m so, so sorry.”

And, in their sleep, Villain begun to dry heave.

#nausea villain #i need to find a tag for this #villain whumpee #whumpblr #supervillain caretaker #doctor caretaker #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump community #whump words #hero x villain #hero villain whump

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sirbrandywine · 2 years ago

Text

Introduction Post

Since for some reason I started posting art before I even introduced myself 💔

I'm SirBrandyWine but you can call me Brandy or Bastion (He/Him Hē/Hine), I'm a senior high school student from Australia interested in Biology, Theatre, English and Art. Currently my dream job is in Paramedical science/Infectious Disease, or anything to do with musical theatre and art. I honestly have no idea what I want to do 👍

Favourites (About Me)

My favourite colours are pink and yellow.

My favourite food is probably Knedlíky or Terryaki Chicken. I also gobble up avocado and poached eggs on toast like it's nobodies business.

I find it difficult to say a favourite band, but it'd probably have to be Russkaja, The Dead South, Kiltro, Uamee, James, Tejon Street Corner Thieves or Mr. B the Gentleman Rhymer.

My favourite films are the Austin Powers Trilogy, Frankenstein (1931), The first Hotel Transylvania (Biggest comfort film 💔), Unforgiven (I like a lot of westerns) and anything with Jim Carrey.

My favourite games are Red Dead Redemption II, Don't Starve, Dead by Daylight, Borderlands (Especially Pre Sequel), Sea of Thieves, A way out, Fallout (I am a filthy 4 and 76 enjoyer sue me 🙄 New Vegas is cool too), Hitman, Stardew Valley, The Stanley Parable and finally good old Minecraft.

My favourite books are tied between Dracula, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde. I'm also currently reading phantom of the opera so that might add another to the list 💔

My favourite characters are probably Dr. Jekyll (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), Van Helsing, Dr. Seward and Lord Godalming (all from Dracula), Victor (Frankenstein. Love to hate him ��), Doc (Rainbow Six Siege. He's a bit of an outlier but even after leaving the community I love him dearly), Timothy, Dr. Zed or Rhys (From Borderlands), Dwight (Dead by Daylight), Wilson (Don't Starve), Professor Marko Dragic, Kieran and Trelawney (Red Dead Redemption II)

My favourite musical/play is currently the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde one with Anthony Warlow, or the Benedict Cumberbatch/Jonny Lee Miller Frankenstein.

I love gothic literature, and the 19th century so much. I have a soft spot for late Victorian men's fashion. I also sew which is cool :>

Where else can you find me?

Well I mostly post on my Instagram: @SirBrandyWine

But you can also find me on twitter under: SirBrandyWin3

Here's my Carrd: https://sirbrandywine.carrd.co/

And you should also follow me on Artfight if you're participating this year! I'm SirBrandyWine on there as well <3

I'm not really sure how to do intros so I hope this suffices, thank you for your time and I'm looking forward to posting here :>

#introduction #artist #artist introduction #gothic literature #victorian #19th century #i have no idea how tags work or what to tag this

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atinydise · 4 years ago

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Ateez saying goodbye to their s/o when they are enlisting

❦ Genre: Fluff/Light Angst.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 4k.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

❦ Warning: ⚠️ I probably said false or incoherent things about Korean enlistment. There’s so many info I might be wrong somewhere.

HONGJOONG

“I can’t believe you need to enlist.” You sighed. “Y/N... you are so dramatic.” He flicked your forehead. “What I am going to do without you?” You pouted. “I need my best friend with me.” Hongjoong stared at you, not breaking the eye contact. “What?” You asked. “You are still calling me your best friend while we are more than this.” He smiled. “That’s cute.” You blushed a bit. “Best friend or boyfriend, you are going to leave me.” “Say that to the government.” He held your hand. You were about add something, but the van stopped. Your heart clenched in your chest. “Okay... here we are.” Claimed Hongjoong. He turned around to look at you since you didn’t reply.

“Y/N... don’t cry.” He whispered, rubbing your hand. “How can you ask me to not cry when I won’t see you for almost 2 years...” you sniffled. “We can see each other sometimes.” He replied. “Yes 2 times in total when you will have a day off!” Hongjoong smiled at you. You had this strong look, but you were one of the most sensitive people he knew. “It’s going to be okay. We will meet sooner than you think.” You pulled him in a soft hug. “Stay safe there okay?” “Promised.” You heard the manager knock at the van’s door. “I need to go.” He whispered. “Wait,” you stopped him. You looked for something in your bag. “Y/N! I really need to-” “Take this with you.” You handed him one of your favorite necklaces. “Keep it in your stuff and wear it when you miss me okay?” You smiled. “Then I need to wear it all the time?” He giggled. He saw that his comment made you sadder than 2 seconds ago. “Aaah don’t cry again! I will keep it and call you when I can!” He tried to wipe your tears, but the manager knocked again. He cupped your chin with his fingers and pulled you in a soft kiss. The butterflies in your stomach made their apparition again, like every time when he touches you. “See you soon babe.” He smiled.

SEONGHWA

“Sweetheart-” “Yes I know, you can’t walk properly but I need to feel your warmness.” You claimed. You were stuck to your boyfriend’s arm during the whole way to the meeting point. He was enlisting today, and you wanted to enjoy his presence. He will be there for almost 2 years, so you needed a big dose of love to survive. “You are unbelievable,” he stroked your head, messing your hair. “Why are you not sad to leave me there alone for so long?” “Because you will be in my heart.” He smirked, pointing at his chest. “Stop saying this because I will cry again.” You stopped him. “Okay no no no!” He almost yelled. “Don’t cry again. Your eyes are still puffy from yesterday.” “That’s your fault.” You pouted. “Mine?” He smiled. “I planned the perfect date for you before my enlistment. I cooked all of your favorite food and even brought you to the rooftop for a romantic night.” “You resumed exactly why my eyes are so puffy. This moment was so special that I didn’t want it to end.” “1 year and a half aren’t so long you know.” He tried to comfort you. You didn’t reply. You were just focusing on the big bus coming in front of you. At this moment, you knew he would need to leave.

You tightened your grip around Seonghwa’s arm. “I never imagined it would be so hard.” You stated sadly. “It’s going to be okay.” “Why I feel like you won’t even miss me?” You finally detached yourself from your boyfriend. “Don’t say that.” He grunted. “I’m sad of course, like really sad. But I don’t want you to see me crying or stuff.” He explained, hugging you. “Why?” You asked, rubbing his back. “Because it’s going to be hard for both of us. But nothing will stop me from loving you okay?” Seonghwa heard you crying again. He couldn’t see you but your body shaking. “And I wanted to avoid this too. I don’t want you to cry.” “I will miss you so much.” Seonghwa stepped back and held you by your shoulder. “This is not a goodbye babe. I will be there soon.” He shook your shoulders a bit to change your mind or making you laugh. But the pain and anxiety were too present. “I need to go,” he kissed your forehead. “But don’t cry okay. Enjoy your time without me because when I will be back you will be annoyed by the amount of love, I will need to give you.” You giggled at him, “I will.” Seonghwa didn’t add anything. He just cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in a kiss. Just when you were enjoying the moment, he stepped back and joined his new team. He didn’t turn back to wave at you. It might be hard for him too.

YUNHO

“Your toothbrush?” “I have it.” “Your underwear?” “I have it.” Sighed Yunho. “Are you sure? Because I saw the black one on your bed this morning and-” “Y/N... I have everything.” You bit your lip. Yunho was enlisting today. You could remember again when he told you that he would need to leave for 1 year and a half. You acted like everything was fine, but you didn’t hold 5 minutes that you were already sobbing in the restroom. Yunho was praising how strong and calm you were. His girlfriend or boyfriend’s friend were always crying and stuff. Luckily, with you he wouldn’t need to get through this hard moment. Or that’s why he thought.

“You let a message on your mom’s voicemail right? You know she would be happy to learn you enlisted well.” “I did Y/N. And you were there when I did it!” He added. “I’m sorry I just want to make sure you enlist correctly.” You scratched your head. “Or you try to gain few minutes with me?” He smirked. “I’m not stupid. I know you try to make me stay a bit longer.” “And it’s a bad thing?” You bit your lip again. Your boyfriend dropped his bag on the floor and wrapped his arm around your waist. “Of course, it’s not a bad thing. I love to spend more time with you too.” You blinked few times and strongly bit your lip. “Are you going to-” he stared at you. “No!” Your voice cracked a bit. You were trying to suppress the sob in your throat and the tears to slide on your face. “Y/N, look at me.” He whispered calmly. You shook your head. “You said that you don’t like cries, sobs and stuff like that, so I won’t cry.” “Babe...” Yunho felt a bit bad to afflict this to you. “Don’t do this. You can cry if you want to.” He pulled your hair behind your ear. No matter how hard you were biting your lip, you busted in tears. “Y/N... it’s going to be okay. Don’t cry.” You nodded, making him understand that you heard him, but the sobs were now uncontrollable. “I will miss you too.” He patted your back, trying to comfort you. You enjoyed his hug for few long minutes before the manager calls him. You instantly stepped back and wiped your tears yourself. “You need to go.” He smiled sadly at you and kissed your hand. “Wait for me okay?” “Of course.” You replied. Yunho waved at you the whole time he was joining the team. He almost fell 2 times, but he wasn’t stopping. You couldn’t express how much you loved this man.

YEOSANG

“Y/N, stop crying.” “How do you want me to stop?” You sobbed, not understanding his request. “How can you still be crying? You cried the whole day!” He teased you. “Because I love you idiot and I don’t want you to leave!” You punched his arm. With Yeosang, you were constantly teasing each other. It was your way to say ‘I love you’. You ignored it but today, Yeosang was teasing you more than ever becahse he wanted you to stop being sad. You cried yesterday and the whole day too. Your eyes were so puffy and red that people could think you caught an eye disease.

“If you love me then stop crying.” He tried a new technic. The glare you gave him was a bit scary so he concluded that his new tactic didn’t work at all. “You really want me to keep this sad and devastated face as a memory for the 2 future years?” He asked. “You are a monster.” You growled. “I don’t even know why I’m crying for you!” Yeosang smirked. “Just smile at me so I could think about your warm and beautiful face.” You turned around, showing him your back. “No, you don’t deserve it.” Not giving up, he put his chest against your back and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I need it.” He buried his face in the crock for your neck. “If I don’t have it I’m going crazy.” “Don’t think you will get me just because of a hug.” You crossed your arms on your chest. “Please please please?” He insisted, squeezinf you a bit. You laughed a bit at his ministrations. “I will smile at you when you will be blond again.” You patted his bald head. “But I don’t have hair anymore and for a long time.” “I know.” You stuck your tongue out at him. He bit your shoulder gently and turned you in front of him. “Smile at me so I can go and have enough energy for 1 year and a half.” You rolled your eyes playfully but finally made the best smile you ever did for him. “Aaah! I’m living again.” He claimed. You punched him again and hugged him one more time. “Don’t forget me Kang Yeosang.” You whispered, pecking his lip. “How I could forget your puffy eyes and the glanders coming off your nose?” He replied. “Argh I hate you.” Knowing that you would try to escape he pressed you against him and enjoyed the last hug he would have until a long time. “I love you.” “Me too.” You replied. When you let him go, you felt your heart clenching in your chest. You were really dependent of this man.

SAN

San needed to enlist today for 1 year and a half. You were in a fresh and new relationship. You were dating for 6 months, you still learned about each other a lot every day. You were a bit sad because of this sudden departure, but you ignored that San was more nervous than you. You were the one who’s going to meet people every day, especially men. He was scared. Maybe one day you will announce him that you want to break up because you find someone else. He never talked about it with you. He didn’t want you to think he’s stupid. But you noticed his behavior changed a lot since he received the information about his departure.

When both of you were waiting for the bus to come, you asked: “San. Is there something you want to say before leaving?” He raised a brow, trying to know if you understand the situation. “No, I think we talked enough the last days.” “Are you sure? Because I find you a bit... distant.” San gulped. The last thing he wanted was you to feel this way. “I’m just a bit sad. I’m going to miss you.” He smiled sadly. “We don’t know each other for so long but I truly believe this is not the only reason.” You claimed. San shook his head, making you understand that you were wrong. “You know you can tell me everything huh?” You added, just in case it could change his mind. Your boyfriend was hesitating so bad to tell you the truth. “The bus is coming,” you said sadly. “Screw the opinion,” he whispered. “Huh?” “Y/N promise you won’t forget me okay? Don’t leave me for someone else even if he or she’s funnier than me okay?” He claimed. You smiled at him. Finally, you knew what was going on his head. “I won’t do that San. I love you too much for this.” You confessed. Both of you stayed quiet, completely surprised after your declaration. “It’s the f-first time you say that you love me.” He stuttered, furiously blushing. You acted normally but inside you were freaking out; it wasn’t your type to confess like that. “Well okay! Have fun there and stay healthy okay!” You pecked his cheek. “Don’t forget to text or call me when you can and rest when you can!” You pushed him toward the bus. “Y/N,” he giggled. “I love you too!” “I can’t heart anythiiiing! Bye!” You yelled when he stepped inside. Lucky for you, the bus left the parking really quickly. You just wanted to hide in a hole. But at least, your relationship will completely change when he will be back.

MINGI

“Do you think she’s coming?” Asked Jongho. “I don’t think so...” sighed Mingi. “We didn’t talk since last week.” “I think she’s coming. She wouldn’t miss your enlistment.” He tried to reassure his friend. The last week you argued with your boyfriend Mingi. It started with a little argument about your jealousy but ended with a whole questioning about your relationship. You were so mad and sad about this that you went back to your apartment and ghosted him the next days. He tried to call you a thousand of times, but in vain, as expected. “Should I call her again? Or at least letting a message on her-” “You did it already.” Sighed Jongho. “You told her the entire information you had about your departure.” “I don’t know what to do Jongho.” He growled, completely frustrated. “Mingi.” Both of them turned around. “Y/N!” Shouted your boyfriend. “I’ll give you a bit of privacy.” Said Jongho, almost running away.

“Y/N I’m so happy to see you here! I really thought you wouldn’t come.” “I’m not a monster. I won’t to let my boyfriend enlist without saying goodbye.” You replied. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear you saying ‘boyfriend’,” He smiled. “Mingi I don’t want you to leave in bad terms.” You declared. “I agree. I’m sorry for these terrible things that I said. I regret it.” He held your hands. “But since we have a short time left, can we just enjoy the moment we have?” You nodded. That’s everything you wanted. “I’m sorry too.” You couldn’t be any happier. Even if you were boiling inside the last week, you really missed him. Mingi pulled you in a soft hug for few long minutes. The whole time he was whispering how much he loves you and that he would do his best to contact you every time he can. “I don’t want you to leave. I feel stupid for ignoring you a week before your departure.” “It’s okay. We will have all the time we want when I will be back.” He kissed the top of your head. “Mingi Hyung, sorry to interrupt but you need to go.” Warned Jongho, embarrassed to break this romantic moment. You pecked his plump lip softly and smiled at him. “See you soon babe.” He nodded and hugged you one last time. “Take care of her Jongho,” he ordered to the maknae. “I can protect myself,” you pouted. “Sure Hyung.” Replied Jongho. More you were staring at your boyfriend leaving you there, more you already missed his presence. Jongho noticed how sad you were. He patted your back, “Don’t worry, he loves you too much to ruin this relationship.”

WOOYOUNG

“I can’t believe it’s Wooyoung’s turn to enlist!” Claimed Seonghwa. “I felt like our enlistment was yersterday.” Added Hongjoong. “Bruh... you are not going to cry? Even my parents didn’t.” Replied Wooyoung, rolling his eyes. “We are just emotional but not crying yet.” Wooyoung was enlisting today. He was a bit anxious because his friends told him that it’s kind of hard and stressful. But you found the good words to reassure him. Yesterday, you spent the whole day helping him to pack and prepare all the stuff he would need. “If you see San don’t start act crazily! You need to respect other men there.” Ordered Seonghwa. “Yes mommy.” He replied sarcastically. You were looking at the two friends helping their friend, but you actually wanted some time with him. You wouldn’t see him for a long time, and you couldn’t get his attention. “And if you feel sick, don’t hesitate to say the-” “Sorry Hongjoong but can I have some time with Wooyoung?” You cut them straight. “Oh, sorry Y/N! Of course!” He replied embarrassed. They stepped back enough to give you some privacy.

“Sorry princess, you know how annoying they can be sometimes.” “I know.” You replied, smiling a bit. Wooyoung noticed the crack in your voice. “Hey... don’t cry.” You wiped the tears on your cheek, “yes sorry.” “It’s not so long okay?” “1 year and a half.” “It’s short.” He kissed your cheek. “In a matter of time I will annoy you again.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Do you really need to go?” “I don’t want to, believe me. But I need to.” He squeezed you in his arms. “I miss you already.” “I didn’t know you were into these lovely dovely things Y/N,” he laughed. He thought you were going to pinch him as usual, but tears stormed on your face. This sight really made his heart aches. “Don’t be sad,” he tried to comfort you. “We will see each other sometimes. I will call you when I can.” He added, but seems like nothing could help right now. “Y/N... princess stop crying I don’t want to leave you like this.” No matter how hard you tried to collect your thoughts again, you failed. “Wooyoung you need to go...” said Hongjoong joining you back. “I can’t leave her like this.” “It’s okay,” you sniffled, stepping back. “We will take care of her, okay?” Offered Seonghwa patting his member’s back. Wooyoung hesitated a bit but he didn’t have any choice. “Okay.” He hugged his members and kissed you one last time. He was blowing a bunch of kisses to you. It made your heart warm a bit. Fortunately, Seonghwa and Hongjoong would be there for you.

JONGHO

Jongho was enlisting. You knew that it would be a hard time since you were always together but the law is the law. To enjoy your time together, you spent the whole week on Jeju Island in a good hotel. It was paradisiac and you loved to share private moments with him. But today, the reality hit you when you saw him packing his army uniform. Now you were waiting for other men to step in the bus. Jongho managed to be the last one to get inside.

“Well I guess it’s a goodbye.” You shrugged. “Just for a short time.” Added Jongho, fixing his hat. “If you don’t forget me.” “Don’t be stupid!” He rolled his eyes. “How I can do that, silly...” “Usually I would reply something but right now I don’t find any words.” “Something like... ‘stay healthy’ or ‘call me when you can’.” “I know you will forget and fall asleep just when you hop on your bed. Like always.” “I won’t. There will be the only few interactions I can get with you. I won’t miss this.” His words, “only few interactions I can get” were stuck in your head. “Y/N, are you listening to me?” Asked Jongho, waving in front of your face. “Actually, I’m trying hard to not to cry.” You confessed, ventilating your eyes so you could reduce the tears. “Ah no! You know that if you cry I will!” Gasped Jongho. “I know that’s why I’m trying to think about something else!” Even if you were thing hard to erase the tears, few sobs escaped. “Y/N!” Pouted Jongho. “Sorry this is hard I can’t do this,” you hid your face behind your hands. “Babe,” sobbed Jongho. “Don’t cry!” You punched his chest gently. “I told you I would cry too!” If you weren’t really sad inside, you would laugh at the scene. 2 grown people crying like babies in front of each other. That was comical. “Don’t fall asleep okay? And call me.” You sobbed. “Promise.” He kissed you softly, wrapping his strong arm around your waist. When both of you were enjoying the moment, he broke the kiss. “Stop crying okay?” He pecked your forehead. You nodded and held his hand one last time. “Take care of you.” “I will.” He replied. You felt your heart ache when your hand detached from his. When you couldn’t see the bus anymore, the reality slapped you. He was gone and you would need to live without him for a long time.

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juxtaposedxocultofjdsad08 · 3 years ago

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Expectation breeds disease(dis-ease)

Desire eviscerates the televisions past contents

Marked with scratched taped decimals

Of the scrapped change we could never bare to ask for sake of pity

And yet think nothing to flip in chance

How have we come here

Amending an imaginary fence

The shriek of the midget violin

or half of the imaginary pence

That one has never really rubbed out

Unless the lies still go on

And we just never wonder who let them out

the parking lots fodder

A display of abhorrent lowballs to mock the lower rite

Circumspection’s cruel assumption

To future aesthetics forethought’s

Foreshadowing the next walkout of guilted useless and forgone speech

Of whimsical, abysmal attempts

To satisfy an excuse to peacefully meet

And pretend we all can handle ourselves

While bending over barrels of eggs pickled purple by red sugar beets

Everything must go candy striped pitched tents

Moving and running after your manic lovers trepidatious tacit conquest to obtain and display

bargain superfluous point of being cheap

Silent sobs above an ajar lock box

Memories of sweaters and scarves

And your grandmothers musk

As the cars line up at the traffic lights

The hiss of the distant rattle snakes

Catching the last 4:30 bus

You wonder why you’re here,

And it’s because someone once came

To show you and morph you

That it’s all a dance around a flame

Can’t find the spark

No use to flee and cry

For you see, all died long ago and has been hung out to dry

Cured in batches

Pressed releases definite infinite damned dirty truncates congruent to the 3 lateral positions

Of 6x6x6 6 for the burial

6 for resurrected height

6 for the dangle of the noose

Without rhyme or reason

Who will break the headline

Written on the headboard of a sobbing and searching mother goose.

Calling a name she swore appeared

In her dreams every night

That abandoned her with nothing but

The chilling absence of purpose

Of which the utilities margin pinched

meaning leveled even, measured

Evaluated and inspected then condemned

To verify the validity she yearned true through fear and selfless hate

Balanced and anorexically worthless

Crawling up the flights of stairs to scale

All her notes of eight.

Wondering when will they come and bury

What the dog said she would create.

And so I’m afraid to say, that no matter what you say.

Definition is the result of another answer to the questions that came too late

And regret is the remorse of a shameful fate

Will it be more?

Will it be worse?

Is it better to fuel the fire for the warmth of the children,

Or lay ridden in the back of a mini van hearse

Doe the rabbits freeze and breathe deeply

Fearing the worse?

The well begotten by the damned

The damned be forgotten

So never more shall you tread

On your beloved pilots old world dog tailed slumber

And the room temperature butter

Rancid and rotten

Shall never more upset the loving sapphire eyes

Ginger tipped beard

Signals the tainted, turbulent borderline

Of care and sabotage

Inevitably rolling down the grassy nolls

For the last grand display

Of Dallas’s homecoming baptism

Adultery falling in the culprits lap.

Love thy mother

Honor thy father

And always ask yourself

When it’s in the crowd or all alone

Do you trust your own steps?

For they can never really claim you as their dependents,

Independence democratized the minors assured emancipation.

That left you out on the waves

In riptides of frustration.

They say sink or swim but only from ashore

And for nature’s rest assurance,

We’ve insured her to be a spiteful whore.

Searching father times hand

To calm the seas like before.

Love is anticipation of fear

Death is the climatic epitome of your vain-precipice

Plateaued and tiptoed

The widowed peak of confluence

Slid down the convoluted spiral stairs

greased handrails for your feet to upend the air.

Down and down and down

The dry dock seeps

Moist splines

Geared bruxism in the night

Of thrashing rage of my last kind.

I don’t know the beginning, the light is fading quick.

But heed my call for this one time.

Wipe the seat of your piss,

Leave it down to console your tired mothers.

And don’t eat where you shit.

And respect your fathers peaceful slumber.

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nauseateddrive · 4 years ago

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4 POEMS by Jake Sheff

Elegy for Dog I: A Failed Acrostic

January was tired when it became king. Apples here love being red in the spring, Casting shadows against the stone architraves our Kapellmeister will never live down. You Stole Apollo’s cows, and let them graze to show me Heaven’s template. Where do failed heroes go? Eucalyptus cupolas and polar icecaps Frame the downtrodden gods. But you weren’t Freakishly wrong, as I so often am, on your

Joyride through nearly twice eight years, Á la someone far from beauty’s stepmom. Copper coin or grimacing sun? I’ve got 20,000 Kor of crushed grief on this threshing floor. Shark-sparks of sadness flood the impetiginous air… How, and why, do clouds cobblestone Entire days, and lakes, when you’re not here? Fixing every broken thing, poets go where Ferns and geraniums baptize the morning.

“Jur-any-oms,” is how you’d spell it; After all, a dog’s a dog, and wisdom knows futility. Cassations make a rusty brew, to drink the truth of truths, and Kill whatever ceases wanting to be new. Stewardship, the color of gravity’s silence, naturally Houses every “glur” (a glittery blur); go chase what plays Eternal games. I hear the swans by Rooster Rock. Your handsome Face, its happy handsomeness, in memory’s eye, goes in and out of Focus; in love’s better eye: your goodness neath its everblooming ficus.

Gravity and Grace on SW Murray Scholls Drive

“Impatience has ruined many excellent men who, rejecting the slow, sure way, court destruction by rising too quickly.” Tacitus, The Annals of Imperial Rome

The traffic lights control the people’s actions, but Not their feelings, as the limits of philosophy Collide head on with the nose of a Dalmatian.

I tell you, the day is stress-testing itself, and these Sidewalks wish that it’d just gone straight. Geese Take this sky-hairing wind for granted, as they

Land on the lake like memorable speech on The sensitive soul. Time is never sharp, but it’s Cutting something in the credit union. Maybe

It’s dancing a back Corte for the woman in line Thinking about the taste of limes from Temecula As she waits for the teller. Air Alaska and that

Haunted pie in the sky are not the only reasons For all the volatility in the air today. Rushing And perfectionism both produce a loss; behind

The Safeway Pharmacy, you’ll see the small Smells of both, sloshing around to the ticking- Sound of the ocean’s tides. I must admit, I am

Frozen in place by the sight of steam from Joe’s Burgers; it is poetry’s pale tongue, rising in And arousing the air. This neighborhood’s street-

Lights are more serious than kokeshi dolls. Lights From its windows outshine poison dart frogs. Maybe to forget about life for awhile, the lamps

Are focused on The Population Bomb? ‘Easy Tiger,’ all these incidents whisper. Each day’s A sign twirler’s dais; each corner a promise

Of something more in a different direction: it isn’t A marriageable daughter or impoverishment, But inguinal ingenuity plays a part, and that isn’t

Bad at all. What oaths and paths went here Before Walmart? What voices were voided by The liquor store? What are vague’s values

When the library shares a parking lot with a 24- Hour gym and a cargo cult? Gas stations satirize The Queen of Hearts; I tell you, it makes every

Question seem incidental. Treaty-breakers in Pajamas swing on the swing sets. Was August That full of angst? It feels like autumn went too

Far on accident. Desertification, in a sugar tong Splint, takes a shot of ouzo and talks shit About the death of Brutus, but my Bible-thumping

Memory – on a ski hill in Duluth – is also too busy Watching some ducks on the lake to notice; and Desertification makes a face at me like a Swedish

Film. Poets make for poorly picked men to Familiarity’s paymaster-general. The Calvinistic Rain is an ill-starred attempt to make mayonnaise-

Fries just for me, but I must admit, it all seems – You know – cybernetic. And step-motherly as all Get out, if you ask the trees. They prefer “You

Can’t Hurry Love,” by The Supremes, to any Changes that take effect in one to two pay periods. Pretext ricochets; a perfect reverse promenade.

At Summer Lake, When the Vegetables are Sleeping

Cruelty drinks all the wine, and never gets drunk On these shores. When Summer Lake speaks, In every word, an introduction to the world. I am

Easily duped. The greatest duper duplicates my pride, Which always lingers, in the hallways of my heart And beneath the surface of Summer Lake. The sky is

Supplicating, it’s literally shaking. An hour passes Faster here, the hour always held too dearly dear In paranoid and ivied walls. The ducks can do

An unwise thing correctly, and it sounds more like Dusty than Buffalo Springfield to the enokitake Sold in Springfield, Illinois, which is the opposite

Effect it has on the wild mushrooms on these shores. On cables capable of love, the geese convince The weather to taste like kvass today. Basically,

Another Cuban Missile Crisis drowned itself just Now. The clouds might ask themselves, ‘Is lowliness Allowed here?’ To which the crows might ask,

‘Does omertà sound like lightning?’ The answer’s Oubliette is ten times worse than impotence. Summer Lake isn’t smart, but it stays quiet, like

Someone too smart to say all they know. ‘Whoa, Sweet potato,’ the capital gains tax mutters To itself, knowing that what matters doesn’t mean

A thing. Some say the lake bottom’s sands receive Commands from Hearst Castle, others say Its hands are King City’s hands, and still others

Maintain more sins have been than grains of sand Times secondary gains, and that explains The beauty and industry that none can see but

All can feel on these shores. (Some possibilities Play possum, or get opsonized by hate; this one snores Like Rip Van Winkle.) This orb-weaver spider is

The Milton Friedman of Summer Lake, the wind On her web is Grenache from The Rocks District Of Milton-Freewater AVA for the eyes. The day is

Stereotypical, although it feels like three days In one…But for the lake’s good counterfactual Questions, I would forget that some die young,

But most die wrong. I’ve tried to pick up Summer Lake’s reflections in three lines or less, but The hardest truth is your own impotence. Oh,

It’s hard to hand your power over to a thing No one can see. Hopped up on distinctions – not The obvious distinctions – Summer Lake is pretty;

Cold, but pretty! In the distance, with so many Intercessory prayers, hot air balloons are rising; Shaped like teardrops, upside down and rising.

This lake re-something-or-anothered me. Are first Impressions wrong sometimes? I am a season’s Golden calf, according to the sunlight, doing

A prospector’s jig on the surface of Summer Lake. If not for the Weimar Republic’s wooden- Headedness, I’d set down my heart-song and

Listen to reason on these shores. I never trust An activist guitar, if the weather is socially clumsy. The future is reflected on the lake: it always

Laughs at us – between its math and gratitude Lessons – and never thinks of (or gives thanks to) Us enough. The presence in the lake juniors

My ears. The day is not too baffling, nor is it Jane Eyre. Space-themed and spiritual, some autumn Leaves are swimming in the rain. The ducks arrest

My attention in the mardy weather, even though they Must know my attention is dying. The barbed wire Around my stated goal is an outcome out of

Their control. Picnickers picnic with acorns and apricots, On blankets covering Holy Schnikey’s death mask. My unsandaled thoughts thrive and increase on these,

And no other shores. They are pets for the days less Important than love, when Summer Lake says it’s Humble, because it knows the right thing to say.

Summer Lake gives the comfort of commonly held And seriously absurd beliefs to the blue heron. Nothing is wrong with this lake or anything in it,

Not even the ghost of Amerigo Vespucci. It’s all so Simple to the stiff-necked molecules of water, made out Of frogs and snails and puppy-dog’s tails. These thoughts

Are fine manna in a fine ditch. Post-structuralist squirrels Can tell my heart’s in Italy, and I’m in the intellectual Laity. Chivalry’s technician sees my shovel, and they say,

‘You’ve got to hand it to him.’ Neurocysticercosis Sets the bar high; it looks at this park, and thinks The smartest monkey drew the perfect landscape.

That’s this maple tree’s previous disease, its precious One. It unfurls the ferns of my firm and foremost Beliefs, I’m told, to partialize insufferable vastidity.

We Install a Sump Pump on (What Used To Be) a Holiday (Take 2)

The oppressive heat was born a fully grown Man. I admire the result of its effort, but Despise the means of achieving it. My wife Asserts her individuality in the gunk; her Body’s allegations aren’t too soft or hard today. Her self-interest seems to have drowned in the vortex.

Our little garden knows flippancy with regards To privacy is unwise. The stepping stones can Only blather, as slugs draw nomograms on Their faces. My wife’s body speaks Proto-Indo- European in the vortex and denim overalls. Marc Chagall’s The Poet studies her. He calls her

‘Innocence: The opposite of life! A criminal with A badge!’ I hand her the tools of a crude and Rudimentary faith, and she says, ‘Jill, great books Make fine shackles.’ Her arms only have An administrative objective in the vortex, but They are where good things come from.

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician in Oregon and veteran of the US Air Force. He's married with a daughter and whole lot of pets. Poems of Jake’s are in Radius, The Ekphrastic Review, Crab Orchard Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. He won 1st place in the 2017 SFPA speculative poetry contest and a Laureate's Choice prize in the 2019 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Past poems and short stories have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology and the Pushcart Prize. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing).

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

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Survey #315

“can’t breathe to scream / suffocating in this dream / long way down”

Who was your first big crush? I would probably say this guy in high school named Sebastian. We sat beside each other in Art, and I definitely liked him a lot. Man, my freshman-sophomore years honestly involved a handful of crushes before Jason popped into the picture and I lost all romantic interest in everyone else. Where was the first place you drove after you got your license? N/A Is it a blue sky outside right now? No. All North Carolina has known for weeks on end now is rain. We've had very rare sunny days, but for the most part, it's just gray and gross. Was your last breakup a bad one? Nah, I'd say it ended maturely and with a mutual understanding of "why." When was the last time you were surprised, in a pleasant way? Hell if I know. Is there an ice-cream flavor that you strongly dislike? Which one? Yeah, like strawberry. What was the last sitcom you watched? No clue. ^ Do you have a favorite character in that sitcom? Why is that character your favorite? N/A What does the last group you joined on Facebook concern? I am 90% sure it was this group I joined that is literally just about cute yet dangerous animals lmao, mostly reptiles and invertebrates. "Misunderstood biteybois and where to befriemd them" or some stupid shit like that. Has there been a spider in your house at any time recently? Not that I've seen, no. Do you like wearing make-up? Not at all. I only like wearing it for pictures and then taking that shit off. ^ If so, how old were you when you first started to wear it? I started consistently wearing it my freshman year of high school. Then some time later I just showed up one day without any, shocked all my friends, and then only wore it when I felt like it. What foods are you craving lately, if any? Nothing, really. What were some of your favorite foods as a child? Chicken nuggets of course, as well as spaghetti, peanut butter sandwiches, just the typical stuff that kids tend to enjoy. When you were younger, did you ever have a friend that your parents hated? No. Have you ever talked in your sleep before? That's very normal for me, especially now that I have nightmares like every goddamn night. What was the last song you heard, that reminded you of someone? Well, not a real someone, but "The Ordinary World" by the Hit House is 110% one of Fetch's soon-to-be themes. What has brought you joy today? Nothing brought me "joy," really. When was the last time you won a prize in a raffle? What was it? I actually recently won an art rafle on deviantART hosted by a truly amazing artist, like I thought I had no chance, and she's going to be drawing Moondust!!!! :'''') What is the next non-essential item that you intend to buy for yourself? I'm still paying the bulk of my tattoo in May. Is there anywhere in your town/city that's rumored to be haunted? Oh, I'm sure. When you were younger, did you ever think that a certain place was haunted? Bitch I still do lmao. What were your school meals like? Did you enjoy them? This really depended on the menu for the day. My school lunches were nowhere near as bad as some people make theirs sound, but most things still weren't great. I think school pizzas are the most notoriously bad. What kind of granola bar did you eat most recently? I had a cashew bar earlier today. Do you have any books on your shelf that you've read multiple times? I never reread books. What did your last post on social media concern? That I personally wrote, something regarding subtle racism still being racism, pretty much. How do you feel about people using graphic images as a scare tactic to promote their beliefs? (i.e.: PETA, abortion…) I have mixed feelings on this. Like sometimes seeing the brutal side of certain things is definitely useful in opening someone's mind to things they don't want to see/think about, but then there's that, too: it can just be so invasive and unexpected, and thus very upsetting and even scarring. I'd say I'm most for the "appropriate" social media route: using censorship that the viewer can decide whether or not to remove. But you obviously can't do that in like, a public protest with a sign, so idk. Which is harder for you: writing creatively or academically? Honestly, both are pretty easy for me. I enjoy writing creatively far more, though. Do you think gender neutral bathrooms are a good idea? I think it's fine to have them as an option. When was the last time you voluntarily went outside of your comfort zone? Just talking about stuff in group therapy recently. Would you ever use a dating site that costs money, like Match.com or eHarmony? Have you known anyone who had good experience with such sites? No, and yes. Do you think it’s fair that people are able to make a reasonable salary and live comfortable lives just by making YouTube videos? Yes? It takes charisma and talent in some area (humor, education, etc.) as well as consistency for it to be a reliable career, and just consider how often you hear about creators burning out. That happens for a reason. Entertainment is a valid job category and should not be seen as an unfair joke. Whether you’re in college or not, do you become fearful about whether or not you’ll find a good job? Story of my life. What is something you can only understand if you've experienced it first hand? Deep heartbreak. Do you think it's a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it's assault? Obviously. Abuse knows no gender, and hitting another person is just that. I do, however, believe in self-defense, also regardless of gender. In terms of a wedding, put these things in order from what would be MOST important to be perfect, to LEAST important... Engagement ring, dress, hair, venue, ceremony, food, pictures, decorations, honeymoon. This requires too much thinking, haha... but I do know the quality of my honeymoon would be most important to me, given that that's personal time with my new spouse and not a public celebration. I feel like what goes on behind closed doors is more important and heartfelt than how you act publicly. Do you have a go-to small talk conversation topic? Probably video games or music, idk. Define "small talk." Does anyone owe you money? Do you owe anyone money? (Besides credit cards) Mom does. She just a few days ago had to borrow $100 for rent. If someone was going to buy you any practical gift (anything except a house or car), what would you choose? It'd be dope as fuck if someone could pay for Venus' next terrarium, but that's a big purchase that I'd have a hard time accepting. How many people do you know with the same first name as you? At least one, but her name is spelled differently. What in your opinion is the best love song ever written? I'm not sure, but I can tell you that "When It's Love" by Van Halen has always been high on the list for me. Was your mother married when she had you? No, actually. I thought she was until my most recent bday, I think. It was just part of a conversation. How old was the first person you kissed? He was a few months into 18. The first person you were in a relationship with, do you still care about them? Of course, he's a sweet guy. We don't talk or anything, but that doesn't mean I don't care about him. Has anyone ever sang to you? Yes. So, what if you married the last person you kissed? That'd be pretty rad. What are you listening to at the moment? "Long Way Down" from the The Evil Within soundtrack. It's funny, like I've loved the game for many years, but I'm now in a serious semi-obsession phase after watching another let's play of it. Have you read the The Hunger Games trilogy? I only read the first book. I loved it, but just never continued. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Who is the person you dislike the most? That I personally know, probably a former best friend, oddly enough. Do you text your parents often? If Mom's not home, it's not unusual for us to text. I don't text my dad much because he's not a fan of texting. Do you watch YouTube videos often? Pretty much always. Do you know anyone with celiac disease? Sara, my aunt, and my cousin. Those are the ones I know of, anyway. Do you currently have any alarms set? No. How many cars can fit in your driveway? Barely even two. If someone else is here, they usually just park where the road meets the sidewalk of the cul-de-sac. Do you have the ashes of a family member or a pet? Of my dog Teddy, yes. Have you ever been involved in a car crash? Yes, as a kid. Do you prefer flash or no flash on a camera? Definitely no flash. It's more natural, and especially with people, it obviously prevents red eye. How often do you use hashtags? Just about never. Have you ever had whiplash before? No. Have you ever given another person or an animal a bath before? Pets, yes. I could never bathe another human. Is there a birdbath in your yard? No. Weirdest place you’ve ever had a cramp? Nowhere weird, I think... How many lamps are in the room you’re in? How many are actually turned on? Technically three, if you count my snake's heat lamp. Right now that's the only light that's on. Are there any activities you enjoy doing, but can only do for a short amount of time before you get bored or tired of them? Yeah, reading comes to mind first. Is there anything coming out soon (books, albums, movies, video games) that you're looking forward to? I'm not up-to-date on this stuff at all, not even video games. What is something someone recommended to you that you disliked/hated? I know Girt's recommended me music I haven't been a fan of. We like the same general stuff, but there are specific sub-genres we differ in opinion about. Can you unwrap a Starburst in your mouth? ... There are people who do this to even know in the first place??? What is the last thing you ate? Popcorn. Who is your favorite person to spend time with? Sara. Do you know how to grill a steak? I don't know how to cook, period. Do you have a large dog? We don't have a dog currently, but Mom is looking for one pretty intently. We don't know the size it'll end up being. Do you like walking places? Absolutely not. I can't walk far at all without my legs starting to scream at me because leading such a sedentary lifestyle led to muscle atrophy in my legs. It's incredibly embarrassing. Are you a fan of bands most people don’t know of? That's not uncommon for me. Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Do you think your voice is higher or lower than average? It's deeper than the average woman's. Do you have a pool? No, but I really, really want one... Given how easily I sweat, I would love to use swimming to strengthen my legs. I could also stop the very moment I feel I need to; it in general sounds like something I could quite easily do. How many times have you been on a plane? Ummm including the trips going back, at least six times. Favorite ice cream flavor? Oh my gooooood, if you haven't tried Ben & Jerry's "phish food"... fucking try that shit. It is innnnnncredible. Do you have a TikTok? Nope. Do you enjoy driving? Fuck no I don't. Your favorite store as a teen? Hot Topic was and still is my fave, ha. Favorite YouTuber? There's this one called Markiplier that I think's pretty cool. How many online accounts do you have? A LOT. My whole life is essentially on the computer, so... .-. Do you tend to always be in some sort of drama? Quite the opposite. Do you collect quarters from every state? No. When was the last time your living room furniture was rearranged? Not since we moved into this place. When you were little did you like watching Cartoon Network, Disney or Nickelodeon more? Disney probably topped Nickelodeon. I didn't watch much CN. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek? Either my niece or nephew when saying bye. Have you ever seen a magic show? Yes, as a kid. I even had a magician for my bday once. When was the last time you vomited and why? It's been a year or so. It would've been a side effect of starting a certain med that I didn't stay on because it so consistently made me sick. Where do you usually sit when you eat dinner? Either in my bed (I know) or at the dinner table if Nicole is here to eat with us. What time do you usually go to sleep at night? It's typically around 7:30-8:30, occasionally a bit later. I can't believe as a teen, it was my "rule" that I couldn't go to sleep before 10:30 because it was "too early." Nowadays, I can barely imagine regularly staying up that late. Do you avoid using public restrooms? As best as I can. I've seen some nasty shit. What’s your favorite type of cookie? Chocolate chip. How basic.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''long way down'' - the evil within ost

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pinehutch · 5 years ago

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(Thoughts about living in a body, some things are tagged but also, content warning for like, extreme self-indulgence and a whole lot of words.)

Pull up a chair (god knows I have), and let me tell you about living in my body.

Something always hurts. You are 38 years old; of course something always hurts, but sometimes what hurts is the reassuring prick and hot-cold lance of the Sunday evening injection site. Prick of the upper thigh, show some leg, know that your fingers will unfurl in the morning in a way that’s pulled along by your intent.

You look younger than you are, if you are not too tired, if you have dyed your hair to hide the silver that started coming in at 22, if you’re performing the right kind of agelessness. The skin on your face has faint freckles and very rarely any blemishes, faint lines on your forehead since your mid-teens. One slightly dark spot that you’re keeping an eye on, that you remember to keep an eye on only for 2 minutes every day, while you’re brushing your teeth. You resolve to keep an eye on it. You forget by morning.

It is a good face. It has nice eyes, and a rosy mouth, and a pleasant structure. You’re not exactly proud of it, or your hair, but you’re on decent, civil terms with the above-the-bust zones. You know that not wearing makeup is a privilege you have, that other people spend money and time and energy on makeup to appear to have it as good as you do. People will say kind things, and strangers may smile when they see you.

You still wish you knew what to do with makeup. You still wish you could signal, here I am, look at me, I am trying to tell you something with this face. You are not in control of what your face is saying to people. The consequences of this lack of control are presenting an appearance unrelenting openness. Strangers may talk to you when they see you.

Strangers! They have so many opinions! They will see you walking to and fro, and they will say to themselves, I believe that is a woman, and they will say to themselves, I have an opinion about this womanish person, this body, and they will say to you you gorgeous and you fat slut and you stuckup and you freak and you tits, you red hair, you hips. They will offer you a ride in their van (oh my god, their van), and will follow you for three blocks to ask if you have a husband, and they will shyly approach you in the produce section, and they tell you about their friend who is A Big Girl, Too, and they will throw pornographic comments at you on your second meeting, they will insist you do not need that size jean, and they will spit in front of you as you try to keep your head down, to keep moving.

They have watched you at the gym, and they have laughed at you. (They don’t matter, and they are few and far between.)

(Every now and then they will give you thoughtful compliments sometimes, on the things that you’ve chosen. You should always give thoughtful and appropriate compliments to people, when you can.)

Your body does not feel like it is yours alone. It is you, but it is not yours alone. It is a public and a private, personal nuisance. A man on the subway bumps against your ass four times in two stops. A woman on an airplane looks grim when that ass means you wrap an extender around your hips, pushed up up out of the seat. (Ha, seat.) Your shoulders are broad and you go to a show in a lovely old theatre and the whole time, you are curling, curling, curling inwards. You are muscle and bone, and you are trying to be a flower, folding petal-soft and unobtrusive.

You cannot be unobtrusive. You simply do not fit. You have clothing in a range of 8 different sizes and you could wear all of it on the same day. Every dress is too short.

Your body can be useful. Yes, it hurts, and it’s tired, and sometimes even the gentle push of your hands through the water for thirty minutes means your fingers will ache for a day and a half. You can’t always open a jar without a knife, but you can lift a heavy object onto a high shelf. Can anybody reach that? You can. You can walk for miles in the city dragging fifty pounds of luggage and you will even recover. You can, on a good day, manage a seven-k trail, or ramble in the woods for some hours. You can carry the potting soil up to the third floor deck and fill the planters. You cannot climb out of the pool without a ladder, or you will limp for the rest of the week, and wear wrist braces.

You can manage. You can live in your too-tall, too-broad, too-strong, too-fragile body, and you can live well in it, when it is only one part of you.

You live in the world. You live in the world and so much of it is spurred by hatred and money and the money you spend to stop hating yourself. When you are 20-something, you start looking for alternatives. (You think you are looking for cute clothes; you find new ways of thinking, about your body, about all bodies, about bodies which are people. You find some cute clothes, too. Seeing the forest doesn’t take you out of it.) You learn that there are people who have functionally stopped hating themselves. You stop, functionally, hating yourself for being the body that you are.

It gets easier, for a while. It never goes away, but it does get easier, and you learn so much about how you can be a person, a person who is and who has and who lives in a body, and never only any one thing. You practice telling yourself that every body is a good body, even while you read deeper and wider and realize that not everyone can feel that their body is a good body. Even if all of those systems and people and rules that say this body is good but this body is not good were not in place, not everyone can feel that their body is a good body. Some bodies aren’t even very successful at their primary function (i.e. being alive). Some bodies hurt all of the time.

Ten years later, and your body becomes one of the kinds of bodies with above-average premature mortality rates. It becomes one of the kinds of bodies where something hurts, all of the time. For a time, you cannot manage very well at all. You cry a lot, because you are in pain, and you are frightened, and nothing works, and you lose a year of your life to hands locked in fists and panic attacks and vomiting up different combinations of meds. The (terrible) social worker will tell you that heels are not a part of anyone’s identity, and ask if you’ve tried eating kale. Your mother will say that you should lose weight; you do not walk on your hands, though. Your father will tell you that the same disease is in his wife’s lungs. Your boss will tell you, with kind eyes, about the long-term disability accommodations available to you (it’s only a forty per cent salary cut). The pamphlet will tell you that statistically, you will not be able to work for more than 10 years from this point. People who love you will kindly remind you that you had been working too much, volunteering too much, and that stress is probably a triggering cause.

You will leave that year behind. You will leave it, walking and swimming and carrying on. You will dance in the shower again. You will learn to speak up when you are in crisis. You will never wholly stop feeling betrayed, and it is impossible to tell where the betrayal came from: did your body betray the you-of-your-mind, by detonating the sleeping danger in your genetics? Or did your mind betray that you-of-your-body, by pressing too hard on the seal holding back that self-immolating flame? It’s a never-ending, tedious dialogue. (Is it my fault? It is my fault. Is it my fault it is my fault is it my fault it is.)

You will learn to smile at your reflection again. People will say, you are beautiful, and you will know it is true for them, and that if you are beautiful like a whale, like an iceberg, like a thornbush, like a moonroad, like a forest, like anything lovely and grand and untouchable and inhuman - at least you can take comfort in good company. You try to turn that misty gaze upon yourself.

You would like to look at yourself in the mirror and see only a person. You would like to look in the mirror and see only a you-who-is-whole. You will, you resolve. One day you will.

***

So, I’ve been tired beyond tired this week. I’m sleep-deprived and not clear-headed, and this was terrifying to write, but it comes from a place that is as honest as I can make it. In frank terms, I’m 178 cm tall, and right now my every piece of clothing I’m wearing is a ‘straight size’ XXL and made of super soft jersey, because I’m in my pyjamas. My wardrobe ranges from a regular XL to “I got this wool coat made-to-measure because nothing else would cover my hips without falling off my shoulders.”

The thing is: I started consciously and deliberately seeking out information on body positivity and on fat acceptance in, I dunno, 2002? 2003? I learned so much from intersectional feminists on the internet who were having complicated and often very personal conversations about bodies in general, and about ‘fat’ bodies in particular (what’s a fat body, anyway? what’s a tall one?), and then about the ways fatness intersects with race, gender, class, and ability besides. By the time I got to thirty, I was genuinely relieved to not be wasting energy hating myself on a daily basis.

And I mostly don’t, still, most of the time. I’ve never quite ‘gotten over’ the sense of bruised identity that comes with a chronic illness, and the way that having a body that is physically more vulnerable has made me feel more mentally and emotionally vulnerable to the kind of social weapons that we/they use against our/each other’s bodies. I continue to do the work of trying to be neutral-to-positive about my body (it’s just me! it has no more or less moral weight than any other body! neat!), but when I feel generally worn-down and otherwise a bit hyper-aware of bodies, it’s really, really hard.

At least once a day for the last several weeks I have had to stop whatever I’ve been doing when, unprompted, a thought like “it is impossible for someone to want you” or “you are, objectively, disgusting” crosses my mind. (I don’t know why my inner critic is so formal! Just a super-big jerk, really.) I think in words, so it comes just like that, in clear and precise words, and I have to stop and interrupt myself. Usually this is just a pause, and a shake of my head, and a breath, and I throw myself back into whatever has been otherwise occupying me.

It’s fine - it’s mostly fine. Maybe this is normal, maybe this is how everyone experiences their physicality and their subjectivity. And it will be better in the morning, so now I’ll stretch my hands and fingers, and rest.

#body issues #negative self talk #chronic illness #internalized fatphobia #street harassment #personal #all opinions and experiences are very very much my own and I hope yours are better and more gentle for you #long ass post that is not at all proof read sorry

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M *THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT*

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Oh god, it’s officially, this story is M and I wrote my first actual smut scene. I’m so nervous my stomach is flip flopping. Thank you for all of your support! I could really use some feedback on this one, guys! Like, ah! This was different! I hope you enjoy it! If you don’t want to read the smut, stop reading after the italicized part and pick back up on chapter eight whenever I finish that! Okay, I hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Seven

"If it hurts too much, we can try again tomorrow."

Dracula's words seemed distant to Agatha as she bit down on her lower lip, her injured hand grasping the wooden stake. Three weeks had passed since the incident and it had been the vampire's suggestion that she work on regaining the strength she once possessed. He'd even gone so far as to give her a stake-a humorous take at inspiration, to squeeze in order to test her muscles. It hurt. Like Hell. Every fiber from the tips of her fingers to her palm burning. But she kept on despite this. Van Helsings weren't weak and she sure wasn't going to be the first one.

"Good," Dracula coached. "You're getting stronger." His lips curved into a smile as she met his gaze, her forehead speckled with droplets of sweat. "Perhaps I should start becoming a little nervous again."

"Your sarcasm needs as much work as my hand." She snorted, rolling her eyes as she loosened her hold. "I like to visualize thrusting this through your chest."

"Whatever motivates you, Agatha," the vampire smirked. "I would expect nothing less."

She huffed softly, the pale purple of her dress complimenting her fair complexion. It was surprisingly comfortable and not overly elegant-something she had expected when it came to the Count and his taste for the finer things in life. And of the few he had given to her, this one was her favorite. Though, she did her best not to overly flatter him. He was still the enemy. The target. And she kept that in mind. Even if the thought did occasionally slip the forefront of her mind.

"So, what are your plans for today, hm?" Dracula eyed her curiously. In a way, it was almost an inside joke at this point. There wasn't much in the castle to do and though Agatha swore each day would be her last, she had yet to leave. "Any new plots? Motivations?"

"As if I would ever share them with you." She responded curtly, pretending to be mildly interested in her piece of wood. "Did you find the books I requested?"

"Ah, so I've become your servant now, have I?" The vampire mused, leaning back in his chair. "First-no, twice I've healed you now, provided you with clothing and food, and now you ask for reading materials?" She gave him a look and he smirked. "I would forget about your precious books even though you have an entire library here at your disposal."

"We have different tastes," Agatha merely shrugged. "And since I'm being held captive, I don't think it's too much to ask."

"Perhaps I should've purchased a dictionary so you could've read up on the difference between captivity and free will." The Count snorted, shaking his head. "Honestly, Agatha, sometimes I question you."

"Question me about what?" She asked in genuine curiosity.

"Everything," he replied. "Take that as an insult or a compliment is your choice. But I'd personally think of it as a good thing."

Agatha eyed him for a moment before looking away. Sometimes she found herself questioning him. Had she really stayed in the castle for this long? It was hard to keep track of time some days. Dracula tended to keep things in the dark, torches being the only light to brighten what little space they cast down upon. There was one way to know. A way she very much didn't like or approve of.

"I'll be hunting tonight." Dracula informed her, rising from where he sat. "I shouldn't be too long."

She knew what that meant. He already had someone or several people in mind. The vampire was calculated, meticulous. Dracula knew who he wanted and when he wanted them and she truly despised it. The loss of innocent life. Absentmindedly, her fingers began to tap on the table, dangerously close to the stake. But even she knew that for whatever reason, she had no intentions on using it.

"Don't let them suffer." It was an odd request, before she'd spat at him to refrain from killing to begin with. What was she becoming? "If you must, have mercy."

Now the vampire even looked somewhat taken aback by her words. "I let them dream," the Count replied. "It's as humane as one can get when taking their life. In the end, wouldn't you wish the same?"

"When I take my final breath, I want it to be quick and painless." Agatha said, locking her eyes on his. "I don't think I even wish to know what is happening. Dreams can be a nightmare on their own. I'd rather fade away into the thoughtlessness of the unknown."

"No white light? No ringing bells as you arrive at your believed gates of the Silver City?" He inquired with a small smile. "My, what an interesting nun you were indeed."

"I've been told that quite a lot." Agatha answered with a small, half smile. "Isn't that the reason you spared me?"

"There is not a singular reason for me deciding to save you." Dracula replied simply as he fetched his cape. "You are a rarity of your species, Agatha. Like a fine aged wine. And I quite like that about you."

"But you don't drink." She replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wine," he grinned. "And as much as I love our conversations, the moon is full and night only lasts for so long." The vampire seemed to study her for a moment before speaking once more. "Goodbye, Agatha, I suppose I shall see you shortly."

"Don't get caught up in the Sun," she merely smirked. "Ashes aren't the easiest to sweep up."

And with a quiet snort, the nun watched as he disappeared. Something in her stomach twisted. A rather strange feeling manifesting from within as she rose from her chair. But the cool draft from the castle halls soothed her troubled mind.

Agatha wrung out water from a cloth she had soaking in a bucket and dabbed at the beads of sweat on her grandfather's brow. Abraham Van Helsing's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips speckled with blood. Tuberculosis. She knew how dangerous it was. How infectious the disease could be. But she wasn't about to let him die alone. Not after everything.

"Agatha."

The name came out as a croak and she couldn't tell if he was addressing her or mindlessly saying the word. She gripped his hand, feeling how hot and clammy his skin was. He smelled of death. A sickening stench. But she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat. Down, down to the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, Grandfather?" She whispered, hearing her own emotion in her voice. She had to remain strong. Abraham hated weakness. And in the end, she would give him what he desired.

"Don't…" He heaved before hacking up another spray of bright red blood. "Don't let him win…"

"Who?" She said, leaning in closer as his tone grew faint. "Who shouldn't I let win?"

"The vampire," Abraham coughed. "Dracula...no matter what, destroy him. Do what I…" He was panting, struggling as his lungs fought against his own body. "...Finish what I couldn't."

"I promise, Grandfather." Agatha murmured, pressing her forehead to his still hand. "I'll take down Count Dracula even if it kills me. You have my word…"

It was the sound of howling that caused Agatha to sit upright in her chair. She sucked in a breath, nearly knocking a book onto the floor that she had been reading. Had she really fallen asleep? As she rose from her spot, the castle doors flew open and there Dracula stood. Stripped down. Completely, utterly naked. Their eyes locked onto one another and, as if drawn to him by an unknown power, she drew closer. Fainter and fainter become the words of her grandfather. A dream lost as something else surfaced in her mind.

It reminded her of the night back at St. Mary's Convent. The black wolf with the soulless eyes. Agatha stepped forward and hesitantly reached out a hand. Dracula remained still as she touched his chest, the thick slime of carnage coating her skin like that of a newborn babe. It was surprisingly warm, the scent strong. But not as foul as she had expected. No. Earthy. Wet. And her fingers traced lightly over his flesh, creating shapes that held no given name.

"You're a monster." But there was surprisingly no malice in her tone. "A beast."

"I am," the vampire agreed. "Are you frightened?"

"No," Agatha shook her head, finally meeting his gaze. "No, I'm not."

This time he touched her, hands moving to slide the shoulders of her dress down. Her skin was creamy, but held more blush than his ever would. She was alive after all. Dracula could hear Agatha's heart rate begin to increase, the succulent vein that was her jugular throbbing just enough to where he could visibly watch it thrum against her throat. He paused momentarily, dark eyes holding her blues.

"I could kill you right where we stand now." His voice was low, calm. "Break you in two. Drain you dry of every drop of your blood." The Count's index finger trailed down the curve of her cheek. "You should be terrified of me."

"I've survived with you this long, haven't I?" She countered, inhaling deeply. "And I could've easily killed you as well." He smirked at her words. "So it seems we've spared each other."

"For the time being," he answered.

"For the time being," she agreed.

When his fingers undid the back of her dress with such precision, Agatha didn't protest. Unlike before when she stood naked before him, she didn't cover herself. Dracula's tongue trailed across her skin like a serpent, flicking against the perk bud on her right breast. She trembled, but it wasn't in fear. Far, far from it.

"Agatha…"

His mouth brushed against her stomach, cool air from his whispers bringing forth goosebumps. He was moving slow. So slow. Whether or not he was doing it on purpose, she wasn't sure. It was violent or done in fury like the first time. And when his hands went to part her legs, she let out a breathless gasp.

"Bed…" She managed to choke out as he looked up at her in amusement. "Move to…" Christ, she couldn't even get a sentence out. The bastard had bewitched her. "I'll…"

"I won't let you fall." Dracula finished as if reading her mind. "Let me take control."

Control. Like Hell she'd give him the upper...oh. OH. Agatha couldn't stifle back the moan that escaped deep from within her throat as Dracula drug his tongue against the sensitive, pink slit. The Count supported her with one arm as he nuzzled his face against her. Her toes curled tightly together and she whimpered. Whimpered like a frightened animal that was hunted by a hungry wolf.

"Please…" She swallowed, so close on the edge. "I need…"

"Hm?" Dracula paused, seemingly delighted by the former nun's state. "What do you need Agatha?" He touched her gently. Teasingly soft. Testing her. "You're quite hard to understand."

"You." She finally forced out through her teeth. "I need you!"

Apparently that was all the Count needed to hear. Swept up as if she was as light as a feather and whisked her away. Dracula laid her spread eagle across the bed. It was only then that Agatha realized how hard the vampire's length had gotten. He loomed over her studying his prize. Before she could utter another plea, he plunged himself deep within her core. She gasped, arching her back as he began to thrust, both of his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

It wasn't right. It was so wrong. So wrong that it was right. So very, very right. And Agatha relished in it. Her eyes closed as the sound of her heart racing filled her ears. She grew closer. Ever so closer. Right to the edge. And as his name hung to the very tip of her tongue, Agatha Van Helsing felt the sharp, white hot pain of fangs piercing into her neck.

And her eyes flew wide open.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #A Bad Moon Rising

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thedyingmoon · 5 years ago

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V + Hanahaki Disease but with good ending?

Boy, you guys really come up with the most interesting ways to make V suffer, huh?

A/N: Written while listening to Rachmaninoff ( again ) Piano Concerto No. 2 In D Minor.

😏😏😏

Let's do this!

🥰🥰🥰

***

🌹 Love And Roses🌹

***

There it was again: a deep red rose petal on the floor.

You looked down at the thing with a raised eyebrow. You were sure that you just rid the floor of Nico's otherwise messy van of these curious and yet fragrant things.

But, there it was again: a deep red rose petal on the floor.

You carefully picked the fragile petal with your dainty fingers and looked at it, utterly confused as to its origins. Well, there were wild flowers outside but, none of them resembled the beauty of the thing in your hand. It looked like it came from a rare type of red rose, and you were absolutely sure you have never seen it before.

You do like the thing, however, since deep red is your favorite color, and the rose is your favorite flower.

But, to actually have numerous petals scattered about the floor really bewildered, amused and frightened you to the core all at the same time.

And the phenomenon has been going on for almost two months. Yeah, you were the one assigned to clean the van but, you don't have the heart to throw the pretty things away, so you just put them in a sack and hid them underneath the sofa you've been sleeping on. Heck, you can decorate a whole room full of these petals you've collected! Not to mention a cup of sweet, steamy tea rose or two.

Your musings were interrupted when you suddenly heard a coughing sound coming from the sofa. You looked down at the poet as he covered his mouth with a gloved hand.

You immediately went closer to him and rubbed his back to somehow soothe him, if that could help, at all.

"Ahem, sweet pea,..." the demonic bird, which was perched on top of Nico's broken jukebox, called your attention, at the same time V let out another batch of coughing fits. "That won't help him."

"Ah, I know! Ah,... " you mumbled as you went to the back of the van to prepare him a cup of tea or something warm to ease his symptoms. "Nico and Nero will be back in a bit with the medicine. Don't worry, V." You, then, said to the poet.

V's symptoms persisted for almost two months, the same time as the phenomenon of the rose petals, come to think of it, and it honestly unnerved you. Yes, V was a capable fighter just like Nero or Dante but, still, he's human, and clearly weaker than the two of them, as much as you hated to admit it.

However, despite this weakness, you liked him. A lot, actually. You're not the type of person who falls for muscles, pick up lines, or manly winks, no.

It's the cleverness, the gentleness, the mysterious aura, the deep voice,...

... the alluring smile,...

And V has all of that. And more.

And that's just scratching the surface -

"I told ya! That won't help him!" Griffon squawked as he helplessly watched you turn on the stove to boil water with Nico's old teapot.

"And what will?!" You angrily questioned the bird. He really was not helping with the situation, at all.

"Ah,... maybe a smooch to the Shakespeare will help? And a good make out session?"

You balled your hands into fists, controlling the strong urge to throw something at the bird or just put him in a steel pot and boil him to inflict pain. Oh, you really wanted to! V was freaking suffering! And his familiar was not doing anything to help! Instead, he chose to make crude jokes in front of you like it was nothing!

"NO!" You growled back at the bird,...

... which made V cough even harder.

"Oh, my God,..." you muttered under your breath as you made your way back to the poet. "V, do you need something? Ah, we should definitely take you to a hospital now. This is getting worse,..."

"Look what you've done to Shakespeare, woman!" The demonic bird shrieked as he flapped his wings and made his way towards his master.

"What?! I'm not doing anything to him!"

"Enough. P - please,..." V begged, his voice weak and his throat hoarse and painful. "Do not worry about my,... needs. I,... j - just needed some,... rest - !" His words were broken as he had another fit of coughs but, this time, he wasn't able to cover his mouth in time.

And then, you saw it. It was unmistakable despite the lack of proper lighting inside the vehicle.

It was blood. His lips became slightly stained with the crimson liquid that most probably came from his already wounded throat.

And it made you even more frightened for his health.

"No, no, no, no,..." You helplessly mumbled as you took out your handkerchief from your pocket to wipe the blood off his lips. The poet tried to stop you but, he was too weak to do so. And you were very stubborn. "Hang in there, V. They're coming back,..."

"Sweet pea, just give him a kiss. Just one in the lips is okay." The bird persisted with his joke.

"Griffon, I'm begging you. Stop with your nonsense already!"

With those words, V suddenly and forcefully took hold of your arms and bowed down low, seemingly throwing up on your lap or something, all the while continuously coughing.

Tears streamed down your face as you helplessly rubbed your hands up and down V's back, trying your very best to ease his discomfort.

"I'm so sorry,..." you cried. It just,... hurt,... seeing him like that. And you couldn't do anything but watch. "I'm so, so, sorry,..."

All of a sudden, something came out of the poet's mouth. It was not vomit or any kind of icky bodily fluid, no.

It was,... a fresh batch of deep red rose petals. It came cascading down like a beautiful crimson waterfall from his mouth down to your lap.

"Hanahaki disease,..." Griffon began calmly as he observed how the poet "lavish" you with the pretty petals. "Pretty nasty illness to have, if ye ask me."

"The,... what?!"

"Hanahaki disease!" The bird repeated as the two of you watched V release some more petals. And you were completely baffled, if not apologetically fascinated, by the strange display of weird human or demonic affliction.

"I - is this some kind of a demonic disease or something? Or a curse?"

"Eh, no. Not really."

"Then, what caused this? How did V get this illness?"

"Unrequited,... love,..." the poet weakly answered for you as he finally managed to inhale after the onslaught of petal showers. By that time, your lap was overflowing with the fragrant things, and it was safe to say that you have to clean the floor all over again.

But, his answer!

"Wait, did you just say unrequited love?"

"Ya heard it right!" Griffon answered, his beak high up in the air like he was feeling proud, or something. But, why? "That's why I told you to smooch and make out already! Come on, do it while the others are away."

"That again?! I don't understand! I - "

You felt absolutely dumb for not realizing this a bit sooner.

Unrequited love? Smooching? Making out?

Then, that means,...

"You have got to be kidding me,..."

"Ohohoho! Who's joking now?" The bird mocked.

With wide, confused eyes, you looked down at the poet, who started coughing again but, this time, he did not throw up petals. He threw up a full stem, instead. And a thorny one at that. And this made V cough up blood once more.

"Nasty." Griffon told you in such a tone that purposefully made you guilty. "Of all the flowers in the whole fuckin' world, why is rose your favorite one?"

"Stop, please." V pleaded despite his condition. "Don't make it harder for (Y/N)."

"Ya want me to stop? Do ya want me to watch ye die in front of her then, huh?! Won't let that happen! No shit!"

"Stop this, Griffon, please!" You begged as you held the poet closer as if to protect him.

"Oh, ye want me to stop? THEN FUCKIN' SHAG ALREADY! SHAKESPEARE'S DYIN'! AND IF THAT HAPPENS, IT'S ALL ON YA!"

"I still don't understand!" You screamed at the demonic bird in panic as V started coughing up petals, and full rose stems, again. "V, why me? What did I do to make you,... love,... me? I mean, I'm just a plain old,... me!"

The poet looked up at you, his beautiful eyes full of unspoken adoration towards you. He held up both his hands and cupped your soft cheeks. He, then, gently laid his forehead against yours, the contact making your face heat up.

And, damn! It's making you fall for him harder than ever before.

"I could sing praises for you all day,... my beautiful sparrow." The poet confessed, his voice soft, and yet hoarse due to the onslaught of roses, and probably thorns, as well. "However, no amount of words could describe,... how I truly feel about you. You don't have to,... do,... anything for me. Just you by my side,... is heaven enough,... for me,..."

You sighed and gently laid your hands against his. "V, I don't want you to die but, I'm,... ah,... inexperienced. If you know what I mean. But, I'll do my best. I will do everything I can to save you. I,... love you, V. Truly, I do. If I'm gonna do it with someone, then I want it to be you, and only you."

The man's eyes widened at what he just heard. And as he was about to shed tears of delight, he inhaled deeply and smiled.

"Is that true? That our feelings are mutual?"

You giggled at his silly little question and gave him a chaste peck on his nose. "Of course it is, you silly poet."

"Then, forgive,... this fool's,... selfishness,..." he whispered, then wrapped his arms around you. "For I just can't help myself."

Griffon's eyes widened with amusement. He began chuckling as he witnessed how the poet shower you with kisses on the cheeks, and on the nose, then finally capturing your lips in a heated and passionate kiss. Your hands automatically went around his neck and this made him pull you even closer, lifting you a bit and properly positioning your legs so you're now sitting on his lap.

"Ohohoho, and the boy's all grown up now,..." the forgotten bird chuckled to himself as he witnessed every caress, every movement, and every kiss that you and V shared.

And just when things started to really heat up, the teapot started whistling and ruining the moment.

"Shit! The water!" You shrieked as you wriggled off V's lap. You were about to run towards the stove when the poet took one of your hands and gave it a sweet and gentle kiss.

"I love you so much."

Your arms went around him once more as you peppered his forehead with kisses.

"I love you more."

Later that night, Nico and Nero were so baffled upon seeing the two of you so close and doing alright like nothing happened. It was safe to say that V was not able to take the medicine they provided for him, since he was already somewhat, and mysteriously, fully healed.

But, what confused them the most was how you two began vanishing each night from that day forward, only returning the next morning with mismatched clothes, flushed cheeks, and silly expressions on your faces,...

***

🌹🌹🌹

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#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #love and roses #devil may oneshot #little angst #more fluff #hanahaki disease #v x reader #v x you

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elliepassmore · 5 years ago

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The Darkest Minds Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: dystopian, powers, road trips, found families TDM is one of those books you can just keep coming back to after years and still like it. I'm not sure if it's the road trip aspect to it or the realism or just that it's so damn good, but every time I think it's drifted off my favorites list, I'm reminded again in some way that I love the book. I think the way Bracken set up the world is fascinating. The story starts in flashbacks, and we see Ruby's first experience with death and with IAAN. The way the disease and the camps are built up I can actually see how one thing led to another which led to this alternate!USA that's basically a military dictatorship that put all the still-living kids in concentration camps (it would be funny if it wasn't sad how premonitory this aspect of the story is). The world has classified the kids based on the old State Department terrorist warning system, so Green is the least dangerous (just super smarts) and Red is the most dangerous (pyrokinesis). In the middle there's Blue (telekinesis), Yellow (electrokinesis), and Orange (mind control), though the government has done a damn good job of erasing all the Red and Orange kids. I like how the sense of bleakness and dystopia in the book also exudes a sense of freedom and 'anything's possible' at the same time. The first setting we see is Thurmond, one of the camps for the living kids, now dubbed 'Psi kids' for their powers. Thurmond is basically a bleak landscape that rotates between work and sleep with a thorough washing of mud and rain mixed in with fear and hatred. Bracken makes the setting visceral and it feels like you're there when Ruby is. The next setting we get is 'out in the world,' which doesn't turn out to be the boon Ruby thinks it is as, mentioned above, the US is basically a military dictatorship at this pointand the economy has down turned, meaning there's more ghost towns than not and just about everyone and their grandmother is looking for a Psi kid to bag and get a reward for. Ironically, this is the best and happiest setting out of all three, since this is where we're on the road trip in a very beat up black van called Black Betty after the song. Finally, there's East River, a safe haven for Psi kids by Psi kids. There, there is no color classification system and, while everyone works for their share, everyone seems happy and free. Beyond the setting, there's so many fantastic quotes in this book, from the first line of the first chapter (not the prologue): "Grace Somerfield was the first to die" (3), to the last paragraph of that chapter: "The government was never scared of the kids who miught die, or the empty spaces they would leave behind. They were afraid of us--the ones who live" (8), to the line that gives the book its title: "the darkest minds tend to hide behind the most unlikely faces" (456). The writing is in an interesting style I'm not quite sure how to classify. At times it seems like Ruby is directly talking to the reader, while at other times it's clear she isn't. But beyond that, there's just a richness to the writing that I enjoy. Obviously, all the kids are traumatized by their circumstances in one way or another. Ruby is afraid of her powers and of letting anyone touch her, and she's also generally mistrustful of the world that she's seen. Liam is definitely an optimist and wants to believe the best of everyone and the world, but there are definitely moments when it gets to be too much for him and he isolates himself. Chubs is cynical and extremely mistrustful (and feels a lot of guilt). Zu lives out her traumatic memories in her dreams, and has chosen to be nonverbal as a way of control. Other characters we see also have issues pertaining to the world around them. Ruby has a desire to protect people, but is also still wants the peace and freedom she believes she can find by living with her grandmother. Despite her wariness of the world, she is a tad too trusting of the other kids she finds in it, so long as they aren't obvious about the danger they pose. I did like that Bracken included bits in the beginning about Ruby having trouble socializing, even with other kids, because it had been so long since she'd actually communicated with anyone outside Thurmond. Liam definitely wants to protect and help other kids, sometimes to the point of putting himself in harm's way. He's extremely trusting, as both Ruby and Chubs point out, and likes to see the best in everyone and every situation. As the story unfolds, we see he has a lot of guilt over something that happened at his, Chubs', and Zu's camp, Caledonia, but he's still trying to make the world better for other kids. Liam's a refreshing character since, despite his optimism, he understands that nothing will ever be normal again, but he holds onto the hope that it can at least get better, and I feel like a lot of optimistic characters in books, especially dystopian ones, tend to be blindly or naively optimistic. Chubs is the most cynical of their group, and pretty much hates Ruby in the beginning simply for the danger she puts the others in by proximity. Once Ruby gets past his walls, however, it's obvious he cares a lot about the people he considers 'his,' and is willing to go to the mat to defend them. He wants the world to be better, but I don't think he necessarily believes in it like Liam does. He's definitely the bookish, mom friend, always reading or having knowledge about one thing or another and chastising the others when they do something that could get them killed or hurt. Out of all of them, I also think Chubs is the funniest and has some of the wittiest, if not the wittiest, lines in the book. Zu is alsohilarious. She has a way of expressing herself, either through facial expressions or writing that makes her a fun character to read. Despite everything, she's still so innocent in the world, and is the youngest of the group at 12, and it shows in the little things, like her picking out a bright red dress for Ruby to wear while they're on the run or how she'll sass the boys about one thing or another. Despite being light-hearted, Zu's also good at getting to the center of heavier subjects quickly and being serious when she needs to. Zu's one of my favorite characters in the series and I'm glad she got her own solo book. Relating to characters, one of the things I love most about this book is that Bracken gives us several antagonists. At large, the main antagonist is the world around the Black Betty gang. On the smallest scale, though, we have mini-antagonists that are the tribes of kids roaming around that don't necessarily have others' best intentions at heart as well as the League, who remain in the background but therethroughout the story. Then somewhere in the middle we have the other two antagonist characters. One, Lady Jane, is the skip tracer who caught Liam the first time and is after them again (and is very good at it). And the other is *SPOILER* Clancy Gray, aka the Slip Kid, who turns out to be the antagonist no one was expecting. He's a psychopath (clinically, imo, but the book doesn't actually say that) and has no problem manipulating Ruby and the others with his Orange powers, nor does he have any problem turning the kids of East River over to the PSFs. It's great because Bracken makes us hate him more than the other antagonists, despite him only being in the story for like, 10 chapters. *SPOILER END*. Liam Short-Story from Back of 2018 TDM Paperback Ed. 4/5 stars Liam feels younger in this story than I think he actually is. If I'm getting the timeline right, and he was with the League before he went to Caledonia, and he was in Caledonia for a year, then he's 16 or 17 in the story, around the same age Ruby is in the main one, but he feels younger, somewhere between 13 and 15. There are parts where he feels older, but mainly he feels like a kid. The story gives good background information on Liam, Cole, and the League. The story really goes to show how soft Liam is, even as a kid or in the League. There's a scene where he describes fighting back against some kids who were beating him up and how he bloody well felt guilty about it. True to character, though, he thinks the best of the League and the people in it until some pieces of info are dropped that aren't supposed to be and he ends up realizing the League is shit. In terms of the League, it's definitely as bad as Liam claims and Ruby realizes in TDM. In this story, they train kids to fight and go on ops, but not to use their powers or think for themselves. The training and the punishments associated with it are another kind of punishment, another kind of control over the 'freak kids' IAAN has left untouched. It's a military/assassination organization and it feels like it. It feels angry and vengeful and gross in that way places can have a trace of emotion. Finally, there's Cole. He only shows up a little in the story, but when he is there damn is he an asshole. It sounds like he inherited his and Liam's bio-dad's temper and lashes out when things don't go his way or when he's frustrated. Having read the rest of the series, I can say I feel bad for Cole and situation he's found himself in, but at the same time, I'm not sure if rage and lashing out are the best ways to deal with it.

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