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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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I know I'm a nerd because the amount of time I've spent obsessing over the Vojvodina dress is. Way too much.

This dress doesn't actually have a name (probably), but it's from late 19th century Vojvodina, and I kind of obsessed over it when I was at the Serbian Ethnographic Museum in Belgrade (main site is available only in Serbian).

(Unfortunately, I'm trying to work within the tumblr image limit, but here's a google drive!)

BTW, if you enjoy this post, please consider leaving a tip! I spent more time than is reasonable putting this together.

Also, due to tumblr being Odd, you may want to open this in a new tab to avoid having the posts expand to full; the dashboard view only lets there be one image per line, for some reason. If you open in a new tab, they are much more neatly organized into sets, and quicker to scroll past.

Due to the fact that I can't really describe these photos in a way that means anything to readers unless they have a large technical vocabulary or background in Balkan fashion history, and there being so many pictures, I will not be including image descriptions. However, my commentary on those photos throughout the latter half of the post should hopefully give you a solid summary on what the photos contain, even if it's not going into details for most.

Here is the general shape of what you see in 19th century Serbia (incl. Kosovo), Montenegro, Bosnia&Herzegovina, and Croatia:

You can see a few throughlines, even with the variety from one region to the next. Certain types of fabric are more common, especially that heavy plain-weave white fiber (I think usually cotton, nowadays, but probably historically flax) with the small knots; my grandmother's apartment is still stocked with that as the default bed linen! You see it all through the exhibit, most frequently in the skirts, but often for blouses or chemises, too.

There are a lot of hand-woven fabrics, which you can see on display best with the aprons, and a very specific style of applique trimmings on the cropped vest. The arm's eyes and necklines have similar proportions. The lengths are similar. Most things are cut on the rectangular, or not cut at all. Hems are often tassled, for complex weaves, or simply folded under for the white base fabrics; plain, non-white fabrics tend to get a textured applique at the hems. Lace is usually eyelet.

There are exceptions, of course. I'd love to know more about that mint green cardigan(?) from Montenegro, with the gored pieces. I think it's made of doeskin (the tight wool weave, not the leather), and I wish I could get more information on the history. Most of the larger green dyes, not counting floral motifs or minor elements of a multicolored weave, are from the Bosnian section of the display (wide stripes along the collar, for instance), presumably due to Ottoman influence leaving a large Muslim population. And then there's this mint green cardigan from Montenegro made of a fabric I'm not seeing on any other garments? Tell me more, please.

(Also, in the close-ups, you can see that the hook and eye closure has released rust stains onto the blouse!)

There are so many more pictures, but unfortunately, I have a thirty-image max and really want to talk about this one specific dress:

The image description on the floor below describes this as:

Woman's festive dress with a zlatara cap, Banat, Vojvodina, late 19th century

(I have minimal commentary on the hat. It's a traditionally Serbian vestment, but there's nothing too unusual about it.)

So, here are a few things to note at first glance:

The arm's eye on the vest is wide. It dips further in towards the neck than most vests, and swoops further down towards the ribs. Most of the traditional vests have a much tighter arm's eye.

Relatedly, the straps are much thinner than most of the vests, maybe half as wide. This is partly the arm's eye, and partly the width of the neckline to start!

The vest comes down in a slightly pointed oval ending at the swell of the bust, rather than curving back up or being a rounded shape a few inches higher. It's also finished with these little satin triangles?

The vest is laced at front, rather than hook and eye closure.

The bottom edge has tabs!

The hems on those tabs are chain stitched in yellow, and then the hem is wrapped in a thin orange ribbon that I would hesitantly say is satin? Plus all the other yellow embroidery, which to my eye looks really different from the embroidery you see on various aprons, and also different from the metallic appliques you see on most vests!

That bottom edge also appears to be straight across (most of the vests curve up slightly at front), and is very tight to the body. While some of the vests are tight, those are generally the shorter ones. Longer vests are much looser than this one, which cuts off and cinches at the waist, right where it meets the skirt.

The fabric itself! I'll get back to this but it seems to be a satin jacquard??? A jacquard that matches (in thread, not in pattern) to the skirt? Insane.

[Disclaimer: Some of these deviations, such as the arm's eye size or the dropped shoulder hem, could be a matter of the mannequin being the wrong size for the clothing. Unfortunately, I don't have enough background information to be sure. It could be just the right size. It could be far too small. I only have these photos and the most basic of background information to go off of.]

Okay moving on to the blouse:

It's not completely unique to be sheer, but it's definitely uncommon!

The chest is not pintucked or a flat weave, but rather the sheer fabric has thin stripes of more opaque weave? I don't actually remember what that's called but it's definitely cool to see.

We also see a net lace at the cuffs, which is similarly uncommon; most of the fashions I saw had eyelet lace instead (which we can see at the collar of the blouse).

The dropped shoulder! The shoulder seam sits much higher on most of the pieces I saw (there are a few exceptions, but mostly from regions nearby). In fact, most of the examples had the shoulder seam hidden, between the higher seam and the width of the vest; it's both the dropped seam and the thin straps of the vest that let us see this here!

That metallic embroidery. Again, most of the embroidery we see on the other pieces is cross stitch or done with a much thicker thread; sometimes, you get lineart, but not filled in in this manner. This kind of thin-thread embroidery that fills the space between the lines isn't common in the other pieces!

I don't think I can actually say much about the sleeve length? I feel like most of the pieces have sleeves that are full or bracelet length, while this one is a three-quarter, but I'm not 100% on that actually being true. It's a bit hard to tell in some cases. Might just be summer clothes?

The skirt:

SATIN JACQUARD

BOX PLEATS

SLIGHT OVAL HEM

SATIN RIBBON TRIM

I'm gonna be honest this was a huge part of why I began to obsess over this dress let me just. Whoo!

This fabric is, as far as I can tell, a satin jacquard, very probably machine-woven. It is very different from basically every other fabric we see in this exhibit. This is not a plain weave, and it is not a hand-woven design. This is a meticulously, mechanically repetitive pattern done using satin-weave manipulation to adjust which sections have shine and which don't. Given the time period, it's probably silk. (Take a look at this portion of a video on silk by Nicole Rudolph to understand what I mean by jacquard. If you want to know more about satin weave, you can watch the full video.)

I'd guess that the vest is made of the same type of fabric, even the same threads, just in a different pattern.

The pleating! If you take a look at the other photos, the general pattern is 'put together some rectangles, gather at top, and you have a dress. Cover with a hand-woven apron in front and possibly in back.' There are, again, some exceptions, but this dress has both the box pleating and the satin jacquard. The structure of this skirt is completely different from 90% of this exhibit.

In conjunction with the pleating, the skirt had a very slight oval shape around the bottom. I didn't get a good photo of that part, but it's typical of 1890s dresses in Western Europe to have a sort of egg-shaped hem if you look at them from above, through use of pleating, strategic panel shapes, and bum pads or petticoats. In short, the dress is just slightly longer at back without being a full-on train. Most of the other pieces, due to the rectangles and gathers, are a much simpler circle shape around bottom.

Length! Part of why the egg-shaped hem is happening is because this dress actually brushes the floor. Ankle-length is the default across the exhibit, even for formal wear.

Simple satin ribbons for decorative trim, rather than something textured, shaped, or multicolor!

Then, the actual hem of the skirt: a center-pleated green ribbon. This is, again, really different from most of the hems. Most of the skirts don't reach the ground, and aren't made of a fancy fabric. Those white dresses/skirts that form the base of most looks are easily washed and have hems that don't drag on the ground. If they aren't left to just the selvage, they're very simply hemmed; I think what I saw most frequently was a double-folded hem. The pieces that have more decorative hems, like blouses and vests and aprons, aren't pieces that get the same form of wear. However, since this dress does reach the ground, it needs a centimeter or so of additional fabric to take some of that wear to protect the fancier skirt fabric, like hem braid, which the easily-replaced ribbon could conceal for this skirt since it's a festival item.

I think that might also be part of why there's a seam about twenty centimeters up from the bottom edge; it's a replaceable section in case it needs replacement, or the seam is for a protective layer inside. However, it could also be a seam used for a stiff inner lining meant to help the skirt flare out just a touch, like this.

Now, finally, why is all this even a thing, and why do I care?

Vojvodina, the region this outfit is from, was under Austro-Hungarian control during the latter half of the 19th century; whether it was officially Hungarian, Austrian, or both changed from one decade to the next, but it was definitely under that sphere of influence for a very long time. Despite this, it was and is culturally Serbian, and is majority Serbian in terms of population; it was even back then! However, the 19th century saw a large number of ethnic Hungarians and ethnic Germans in the region as well, and the cultural impact from Vienna was not to be underestimated.

This dress is a great example of how a culturally Serbian individual would have clothing that integrated those foreign influences. For most of the Balkans, the greatest influence was the Ottomans, due to five centuries of imperial rule, but this dress is a great contrast due to Hungarian occupation, and then Austrian. It contains elements of the culture that birthed it, yes, but the influence of the West is so very, very clear.

(I wish I could talk more about the Pannonian elements in general, but I'm still learning.)

I hope you enjoyed this rambling deep dive into a single outfit from the Serbian Ethnographic Museum. Visit it if you get a chance!

And if you've read this whole thing and feel like dropping a tip, you can do so on this blog, post, or over on ko-fi. You could even join my Patreon!

#serbia #vojvodina #fashion #fashion history #the vojvodina dress #serbian stuff #balkan stuff #balkans #Banat #Hungary #Austria Hungary #austro hungarian empire #phoenix posts

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comfortabletextiles · 5 months

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I dreamt that I had a little stall/booth(??) were I sold plant dyed yarn on a wool fair and I kind of want to make that a reality, the kitchen is small and the free time is also small, and the whole flat is small so the storage space is not there :'(

Color fading batts, sets of yarns to knit a gradient, multicolor rolags. Roving 😭😭😭

Dye sets with pre mordanted fiber or to mordant yourself!!

Sets with all the yarn you need to knitt a beautiful lace shawl in a nice gradient (pattern inkluded)

Maybe to get extra, a little place where costumers can choose their own fiber content and color to be turned into batts

#dream #like literally #I'm kimd of sad that i cant do that #but also a little exited because technically when we have more space I could totally try that?!?

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 1 year

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Maximum Ride AU?

[This has elements of When the Wind Blows as well as Maximum Ride, because I know the original book a little better.]

• They look like six kids right now. Six fun-loving kids out for a good time in the California fall, enjoying loaded fries and hot wings while crammed around a table at the sidewalk café. They stand out, to be sure — they all have multicolored dye in their hair, Marco’s sporting a mohawk, Ax wears those wraparound sunglasses despite the cloudy day, and of course there are the bulky windbreakers slung over all their shoulders. But they only stand out enough to get a second glance, not a third.

Don’t give them a third look. They’ll notice, and you’ll be the one who regrets it.

Still, though, they look... If not normal, then normal enough. Normal-adjacent.

• Of all the workers in the Sharing Institute, Dr. Aftran was always kind to them. She was the one who let them into the outdoor enclosure even when they hadn’t earned yard privileges, the one who snuck candy bars into their cell, who “forgot” to turn off the television when their TV hour was over more often than not. She was kind, and that was all she was... until Ax’s bidirectional vision implants didn’t take, until he came out as a null result.

Null results get put to sleep.

Dr. Aftran injected him, exactly on schedule, and his unseeing eyes fluttered shut even as he fought hard against the drugs. But when he woke up, it was outside underneath an open sky. And the rest of his flock was around.

They never do find out what happened to Dr. Aftran. Maybe it’s better that way.

• The sidewalk café fills, empties, fills again around them as the afternoon passes, but no one kicks them out. Their waitress initially shows interest in Ax — everyone always does. But it’s Marco who finally catches her attention on purpose, whispering back and forth, scribbling something on a napkin that causes her to blush and lean in close.

Jake watches. He glances at Cassie. She glances back.

Ax doesn’t see their glance, of course, but he can pick up on the currents of the conversation just fine. His knee bumps Cassie’s, a silent question, and she taps his arm once in confirmation. Ax sighs.

It’s been like this, more and more lately. Marco spending time with outsiders, turning away from the rest of his team. Chafing at the need to go everywhere with five other kids his age in tow.

Too freakin bad. They go together. For Ax. For themselves. They go together, or not at all.

• Evening creeps up on them, and by now the café chairs are being flipped up onto fresh-wiped tabletops. This is as long as they ever stay anywhere, so they’re full and content when they stretch to go. Without discussion, they’re assembled at the lip of the canyon. It’s nice to use this kind of natural formation — the dropoff makes it easy to get up speed — and Jake is just thinking how nice it will be to get going again, when...

“Where’s Marco?” Tobias’s voice is tight.

Rachel groans. “This time, I really am going to kill him.”

They’re all modified: Rachel for strength, Tobias for skill, Jake for speed. Marco for his lightning-fast calculation, Cassie for her ability to move underwater. Ax’s modification didn’t take, but he’s scary smart all on his own.

So really, there’s no question of who will be chasing Marco down. Especially not in that narrow canyon.

“Be back in a minute,” Jake says, and jumps off the cliff.

• Black-and-white wings, ten feet from primary to primary, unfurl from Jake’s back. He’s not as beautiful as Ax, his pinstriped underwing and blue-gray back no match for that angel-white black-tipped plumage. He’s nowhere near as large as Rachel, who once knocked a grown man clear through a wall with a sweep of her enormous brown wings. But he can do this: rocket through a canyon at over 150 miles an hour, banking into turns so tight they’d kill any of the others who tried, trusting he can adjust in time even as the walls brush within inches of his feathers. Luke Skywalker in the trench of the Death Star, Tobias often jokes while watching him.

Catching up to Marco is easy.

Getting him to talk is a whole other ball game.

They’ve been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes — fifteen minutes they can’t afford, not with half the Sharing Institute hunting them across the state — before Marco finally swipes a hand across his face, clears his throat, and finds something to say.

“Warren Worthington the Third,” Marco confesses at last, staring not at Jake but at the vireos hunting the canyon far below. “That’s the name I gave her, when she asked. Warren Worthington, and the phone number of a Domino’s pizzeria. Only my name’s not Warren Worthington, is it.”

“Marco,” Jake says, trying to forestall the inevitable. “Your name is Marco.”

“Marco,” he spits, “is something you call me. My identity is Subject 1273-MRO, and my code name, the name my mother put on my birth certificate, is Icarus. Fucking Icarus. Because she knew I’d never, ever be able to eat at a café or flirt with a girl or have a life at all. So it didn’t matter if she gave me the stupid fucking name of a guy legendary for how much he sucks at flying.”

“I know,” Jake says heavily. “I know.”

“You don’t.” Marco’s voice cracks. “If you ever feel like giving up on the rest of us, you can always go find your normal-ass mom and dad and brother in their normal-ass house and...” He spreads out his arms. “Surprise, guys! I didn’t kick it at birth. Thanks for naming me Jake, and not Uriel or Vajrakila or Tinkerbell.”

Jake doesn’t answer, because Marco’s not wrong. They know from the Sharing Institute files that Marco and Ax stole that Jake’s parents were all told they’d be signing up for an experimental drug trial during pregnancy. That they’d agreed to be impregnated with genetically modified embryos. That on the day of delivery, the doctor had been heartbroken to say newborn Jake had died in the incubator. That the Sharing would very much like to keep the remains for study, and was terribly sorry for their loss.

“Marco,” Jake says. An affirmation. “Marco. I know you guys decided I should be the leader or whatever, but I’m just a dumb scared kid like you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t know if we’re ever going to find someone we can trust.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “No kidding.”

“But Marco... I know I’m sticking with you guys no matter what.” Jake shifts around, forcing eye contact. “I know that. Those people, they’re not my family. That’s you guys. We fly together, and I know that.”

Marco stands. They haven’t solved any of it, not really. This is all going to happen again. They’re still freaks, still hunted. But he nods, resolute. “We fly together.”

And they leap as one.

• They find Tobias’s birth mom, from the stolen records. She claims she doesn’t remember any of it. Doesn’t remember being pregnant, doesn’t remember giving birth, doesn’t remember who might have knocked her up or when. She says this all to their faces, not hesitating, not looking away. There are scars on her forehead, scars on her scalp. She doesn’t remember having a son, she says, she’s terribly sorry but she doesn’t remember.

• Jake dreams. The voice doesn’t give itself a name, but it always tells him the same thing: he’s meant to save the world.

• David was their tagalong, their unwanted but tolerated kid sibling, their friend. He could be annoying, and he never seemed to realize just how different his life was from theirs — he went home every night to a warm bed, he had a mom and dad, he had food that wasn’t protein mush. But he went through the tests, the endurance exercises and the injections, right alongside them. And his insider knowledge of the Sharing Institute saved their lives, on more than one occasion.

So when the creature — every bit as freakish as them, but with none of their grace and with joints that move hampered by pain — steps from the shadows and into the light, Cassie gasps sharply against the threat of tears.

David was supposed to be an entirely separate project. He’s programmed with regenerative cells, has a life expectancy of over 400 years... and yet here he is, creeping forward on swollen knees that are powered by straining lungs.

“We have to go,” Jake says, when Tobias takes an involuntary step toward their former friend. “We have to go now. If he found us, then the Sharing’s not far behind—”

David lunges, mouth open, unnaturally long teeth aimed at Tobias’s throat. Rachel body-slams him on intercept, the two of them rolling in a mess of feathers and blood across the filthy ground.

“Go!” Jake points to the sky. Tobias takes off, whistling to guide Ax, and a second later Marco follows.

Jake grabs a fur-covered arm. David’s wrist twists the way no human’s would, and he sinks claws into Jake’s skin. Jake cries out in pain, but he slams his head forward into David’s face. Jagged teeth tear open Jake’s cheek, his forehead, but David recoils from the blow.

Rachel rolls loose. With overhuman strength she stomps down onto his stomach, until David jackknifes around her with an oof of pain. She raises her foot again, but Jake catches her arm.

“We go!” he shouts. “Together. NOW.”

Whether it’s the sight of his bloodied face, or the sounds of the others hovering and desperately whistling for them to join, Rachel shakes the bloodlust. She beats hard against the air, helping Jake to rise with her much larger wings.

Down below, Sharing agents are streaming across the ground. Most of them are armed with rifles and tranq guns, but the man who dives forward to pull David into his arms has no weapons at all. The flock takes off, and for now they get away.

• They find Cassie’s parents. Michelle and Walter are gentle and kind. They stitch the cuts on Jake’s face and Rachel’s arms. They ask questions, like are you okay and how long have you been on your own. They give the flock hot food, and soft beds, and something infinitely more precious that the kids all drink up like lizards in the sunshine. But Cassie looks out the window one night, and she sees a girl who is not a girl standing at the edge of the woods. They don’t stick around to find out if it is the Sharing, if David and his fellow trackers would settle for killing the horses or would murder the veterinarians too.

• Jake dreams. The voice tells him again to save the world. He replies, just as he always does: the voice can go fuck itself, because he’s only here for saving his friends.

• “Look,” Tobias says. “Look.”

There are hawks hunting along the cliffs below. They dive with sickening speed, pulling up short with crabs and trout in their claws.

They swoop and spin around each other, wheeling and screaming.

“We’ll scare them away if we get any closer,” Rachel points out.

“So don’t get closer.” Tobias perches so close to the edge of the cliff he threatens to tip over, relaxed and unafraid. Happy, or as close as he ever gets. “Just watch, and learn.”

• He scares the hell out of them, when he drops out of the sky the following evening. Cassie screams in shock, but he’s back before any of them can get too scared. He’s holding an ice cream cone he just stole clear out of some guy’s hand, seagull-style.

“What?” Tobias says, laughing, making a mess. “I was just hunting. It’s what birds do, right? We hunt!”

Later Tobias shows Rachel what do to: wheeling close, wheeling far. For a time they rocket along toward the ground, synchronous and breathless, wings half-tucked. Then they split, and shoot apart, and wheel around again. Courtship, the ornithologists call it, and there’s an ecstasy in the dance that no human can touch.

• They find Jake’s family. It’s a temporary measure, they tell each other, they tell themselves. It’s temporary. But it’s better than a cave above a sea cliff, better than a tent in the woods. It beats nesting in an unused clocktower or a moldy steeple.

Jake’s parents and brother are nice. They’re conventional. They’re upright and intelligent and suburban. They sit the flock down in the living room, and they sip tea and make concerned faces and try to determine just how not normal their newfound son is.

There’s an uncertainty there, a hint of hesitation that Michelle and Walter didn’t show. But Jake’s family is comfortable, is middle-class and law-abiding.

• So law-abiding, in fact, that Jake wakes up the following morning to a room full of Sharing agents and a rifle in his face.

If he had to guess, it was his brother who called 911. One the cops who answered thought to contact the FBI. Some FBI agent knew to call the Sharing, and to tell them to retrieve their lost property from the Berenson residence of suburban Carmel.

“RACHEL!” Jake screams.

She knows what to do. There’s a crash from below, his parents’ picture window exploding out onto their lawn. Three figures shoot toward the sky — Rachel’s enormous brown wings, Marco’s brown-and-white striped ones, and Ax’s angelic pinfeathers. Rachel has blood limning the tops of both wings, Marco’s clutching Ax’s wrist in his hand, and they’re away. They’re away.

There’s no sign of Cassie or Tobias, but Rachel and Marco and Ax are clear.

Jake watches them go, hope tugging his heart toward the sky, even as the needle jams into his neck and the black drugs suck him down.

• Jake awakens in a dog crate. Size medium. Suited for dogs 90 to 120 pounds. His wings are pressed against his sides with cramping force, his body twisted in a fetal position he won’t be able to uncurl from. Ask him how he knows. Better yet: don’t.

• “Marco?” Cassie says, sucking in a breath and coughing, the instant she’s awake. “Rachel? Anyone?” She rolls, feathers scraping painfully on the sides of the cage, until she’s sitting on her knees with both hands pressed on the ground. She can’t stay like this forever or her feet will fall asleep, but there’s a fundamental comfort to be had in hugging her own wings around herself.

“Cassie,” Jake says, quiet and dull, from somewhere to her left. “Cassie.”

“Jake. Who... Who else?”

“I see Tobias across the way,” Jake says. “I think it’s just us.”

Cassie closes her eyes. Thank goodness. They’re probably going to die here, the three of them, and there’s going to be a lot of horribleness in between now and then. But at least Ax is safe, at least Marco and Rachel are free.

“Ax is okay,” Jake says, thoughts following the same path as her own.

It could be better. Tobias tolerates crating the worst of any of them. No one planned for Jake to sprout to six-one and over two hundred pounds during puberty when they mass-ordered cages this size. She’s probably never going to fly again. Nor are Tobias and Jake.

But it could be worse as well. Null results get put to sleep.

• They all hear it when Tobias wakes a little later. There’s silence, and then there’s the sound of thrashing so violent that the whole row of cages shakes. Tobias is breathing in soft hoarse cries, shoving wings and knees and wrists against the bars with bone-breaking force.

“Tobias!” Cassie calls. “Tobias, it’s okay, you have to calm down or —”

He’s making small desperate noises between gasps for air. There’s a sickening thud as his head impacts the ceiling of the cage. All six of them are claustrophobic — it’s the whole reason the Sharing ordered these cages — but it always hits Tobias worse to be confined.

“You have so many relationships in this life,” Jake says in rhythm. “Only one or two will last,” and it takes Cassie a second to realize he’s singing. “You go through all the pain and strife, then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast...”

Tobias has quieted, panting, listening. Jake’s no great talent, and his voice is too low to do the song justice, but it’s something.

“Oh, so hold on the ones who really care,” Cassie sings now, joining in with Jake. “In the end they'll be the only ones there.” It helps her to sing as well, she realizes. Forces her to breathe in rhythm, gives her something to focus on. “And when you get old and start losing your hair, can you tell me who will still care?” she and Jake sing together, and it must be working because Jake’s getting louder and Tobias is getting quieter. “Can you tell me who will still care?”

And then there’s a third voice — not Tobias, not the white coats — that joins them for the chorus. “Mmmbop, ba duba dop, Ba du bop, ba duba dop...” they harmonize, off-rhythm but singing hard enough not to care.

“David,” Jake says quietly, in the pause before the second verse.

“Hi.” He speaks just as softly. He’s in the cage directly above Cassie’s, out of sight through the opaque floor. He sounds bad, hoarse and wheezing almost as hard as Tobias was a minute ago.

“David?” Cassie asks.

He answers the question she didn’t put words to. “What do you think? The new modifications didn’t take. Obviously. I’m a null result.”

She thinks back to his swollen joints, his awkward gait, the teeth that didn’t fit into his mouth and the bone claws that split the ends of his hands. Seeing them with new light now, beyond the horror of what his own family had done to him.

“David,” Cassie whispers helplessly.

“I should have come with you,” David says.

Cassie flinches. They never asked him. They figured he was better off here, and so when Aftran got Ax and Ax got Jake and Jake got the rest of them, they’d left David behind. He’d known they were going to take any chance they could to get out, and he’d always warned them against it when the conversation had turned that way. They’d thought, they’d thought...

“Your mom and dad were here,” Jake says. “And anyway it doesn’t matter now.”

“They can’t!” Cassie blurts. “They can’t, they can’t.” It’s David. He’s supposed to live forever; that’s why he was made.

“Plant a seed,” David sings, with desperate force. “Plant a flower, plant a rose...”

“You can plant any one of those,” and now it’s Tobias joining in, then Jake, “Keep planting to find out which one grows.”

Cassie sucks in a breath through tears. “It’s a secret no one knows,” she sings, because what else can they do, “It’s a secret no one knooooows.”

• The door slides open, sometime after they enter their second rendition of the song. Marco’s mom stands on the other side. Lab coat on. Syringe in hand. “I hear you’re awake,” she says.

“Can you tell me who will still care?” they sing, ignoring her. “Tell me who will still care—”

“Stop it!” she snaps. “All of you, stop it immediately.”

Jake lifts his head, red grid from the bars imprinted into his cheek. “If you didn’t want us singing, shouldn’t have made us into birds,” he says flatly.

She draws in a breath, but they launch back in, louder and louder: “Can you tell me? No, no you can’t ‘cause you don’t know. Can you tell me? No, no you can’t cause you don’t know. CAN YOU TELL ME? NO YOU CAN’T CAUSE YOU DON’T—”

Zzzzzztt-BAM!

The cages are electrified. Would’ve been nice to know sooner, Cassie thinks as she clenches her fists and her jaw until the tremors wear off.

“Enough!” Marco’s mom shouts. She twists the lock on David’s cage and wrenches open the door.

“No,” David moans, “no, no, please, I want my dad—”

He’s still uncoordinated from the shock; Marco’s mom easily drags him out by the hair and throws him to the floor.

“Don’t do this!” Jake shouts. “He’s a person. This is murder.”

Marco’s mom lifts her head, brushing hair out of her face. “He’s a failed pet project of Mr. Visser’s, and it’s high time we eliminated him.”

“Please,” David screams. “Please, I want to see my dad, please!”

“This won’t even hurt.” Her tone suggests she has no idea what David has to complain about. “You’ll be unconscious long before cardiac arrest sets in.”

David struggles for everything he’s worth, but the needle is large and unforgivingly sharp. Marco’s mom slams it into his chest, not seeming to care where it lands, and depresses the syringe until it is empty. She tosses it aside, breathing hard, watching David closely.

“Can you tell me,” Cassie sings, a thready whisper, barely there, “which flower’s going to grow? No you can’t, ‘cause you don’t know.”

David is crying, already fighting for air with more than just exertion, but his eyes lock on hers.

“Can you tell me,” Tobias sings with her, that same tiny thread of sound, “If it’s going to be a daisy or a rose? You say you can...”

David’s eyes slide shut. His lungs empty, and they don’t refill.

• Tobias does his best to lose reality, after the white coats drag David out of the room. He tries to retreat into the memory of flying through caves with Ax and Marco, their whistles bouncing off the walls to map the space none of them could see. He should be more like those hawks, who slam the ground when they miss a strike but recover in seconds. He should be more like the pigeons who get by with two toes and one working wing, still surviving just fine. He should be like the mallards who never tire or slow, even after months’ worth of twelve-hour days. Instead, he’s a fucking parakeet: ripping out his own feathers, unable to stop no matter how hard he bites down on his own fingers to punish himself for punishing himself.

“They have to feed us eventually,” Jake says with confidence. “They have to give us water and space.”

“A bathroom would be nice too,” Cassie mutters.

“Exactly,” Jake says, hearty as a camp counselor. “Exactly. They’re going to let us out pretty soon now, you’ll see.”

Tobias would like to punch Jake’s fucking teeth in.

• There’s a scree of metal on metal, somewhere in the depths of the facility. Jake tries to lift his head to look, but gets no response from his neck muscles. He lost feeling in his lower legs a while ago.

There’s a thud, quiet like it’s far away but powerful enough to rattle the room they’re sitting in. The next thud is closer, louder, and this time the cage bounces off the floor.

WHAM.

That’s directly on the other side of the door. Another WHAM, and the door visibly dents inward on its frame.

“Guys, be ready,” Jake says.

“To do what?” Tobias asks sourly. But at least he’s talking.

WHAM.

The door crumples off its hinges. Rachel stands on the other side, a firefighter-issue battering ram in her hands. It has to be 200 pounds, but with all their enhancements it’s no real surprise to see her holding it easily.

“Step aside!” an unfamiliar voice calls from behind Rachel. “Please, step aside. The more footage we can get —”

Rachel moves out of the way, but goes into the room. She stops long enough to press her fingertips against Cassie’s through the gaps in the cage door, but only for a second before she focuses on Tobias. His fingers are bloody, his left wing as well, but he’s coherent enough to whisper her name.

The man who pushes into the room just after Rachel is a lot harder to explain. He’s middle-aged, but has the kind of blue eyes and tall frame that suggest he used to be beautiful. The strangest thing about him isn’t the makeup he wears or the way there’s something naggingly familiar about his face; it’s the industrial-size video camera perched on his right shoulder. He points it around the room, pausing to zoom in first on Tobias and then Cassie.

Ax shoves into the room after the man, Marco brushing wingtips with him. “Jake?” he says, lifting his head to listen. “Tobias? Cassie?”

“We’re okay,” Cassie says. “We’re here.”

“Shit,” Marco whispers. He’s peering through the door of Jake’s cage, lips pressed together. “Shit, man, you are too damn tall. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“‘S what I have you for,” Jake says.

Marco fumbles at the lock on the door. Luckily they’re simple mechanical things, not requiring keys but only the leverage that comes from being outside. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, we’re getting out of here, I’m doing a guest appearance on Touched by an Angel, and we’re headlining for Leno. Yeah?”

The door pops open, and Jake is sliding out from the sheer force of where his body had pressed against it. Some combination of the shock and the dehydration and all the blood in his body deciding to rearrange itself at once gets to him. The world goes black.

• Jake wakes up what feels like an eternity later. He’s propped sitting up, his back against the row of cages, and there are several unfamiliar adults talking over his head.

Before he can go into flight-or-flight mode, Rachel crouches in front of him. She’s peering close into his eyes, holding out an object that — once he finally figures out how to focus on it — proves to be a juice box with a picture of an apple on the outside.

“Take it,” Rachel says. “Cassie already had like six and didn’t keel over, so it’s probably fine.”

Jake takes it, sucking gratefully at the tiny straw. He looks over her shoulder at the guy who came in with them, and the three other people who are now filming that guy as he talks into a microphone. “Who...?”

“Kept finding parents.” Rachel jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “Finally hit on a useful one, go figure.”

“Hello, Jake.” The man crouches next to Rachel, holding out his hand. “I’m Dan Berenson. It’s an honor to meet you, son. Nephew.”

Jake stares at the hand. “Who do you work for?”

“NBC,” Dan says. “National Broadcasting Comp—”

“What are you doing here?” Jake’s being rude. He doesn’t care that he’s being rude.

“We’re doing an exposé on the Sharing Institute.” Dan gestures to the people behind him, presumably coworkers. “It’s a very important project.”

“I brought helicopters from two other news stations while I was at it,” Rachel says. “Just to be on the safe side. One’s technically the Weather Channel, but whatever.”

The thought of her simply flying at the nearest two helicopters with cameras until they followed her is almost enough to make Jake laugh, in spite of it all. He knows why she didn’t trust NBC alone — far too many companies and government orgs are in the Sharing’s pocket — but it’s a typically Rachel approach.

And here he’d thought Marco was joking about being on TV.

“C’mon.” Rachel hooks a hand under Jake’s arm, helping to haul him to his feet. “The others are outside.”

He shifts, tangling his feathers with hers, as they walk together. She gets a wing around him and yanks him close, a few inches shorter than he is but still with that unmatched wingspan. He lets her shove their shoulders together, bullying her way into his space, and doesn’t comment on how much her hands are shaking.

“Check this out!” Marco spreads arms and wings when he sees them, taking in the vans and helicopters and dozens of camera operators on foot. “That’s what I call a media circus, baby!”

“No,” Tobias is telling a woman with a paramedic’s uniform. “No, I’m not going anywhere without my flock. You take us all, or none of us.”

Lab coats are fleeing, Jake knows, taking what they can and running for it. Ordinary Sharing staff members as well. Any incriminating experiments the reporters don’t find in time will be put to sleep.

But it’s something. It’s the whole world watching, from those hovering machines to Rachel’s dad with the handheld camera.

“He said it,” Rachel announces, chin lifted. “We fly together, or not at all.” She’s smiling, tears in her eyes.

Jake finds his gaze drifting past her. There’s still smoke coming from the crematorium, dispersing slowly into the sky.

• Jake dreams. There’s still work to be done, the voice says, and for the first time Jake thinks yeah, okay.

#animorphs #maximum ride #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #long post #crossover #character death #self-harm #child abuse #dehumanization #medical abuse #hanson #it's james patterson y'all #and it's k.a. applegate #this was always gonna be dark as fuck

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hotxcheeto · 1 year

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❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞

"𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚."

❥ 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 - 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁

❥ 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

❥ Maybe It's Fate | Fluff- You meet a stranger on the worst day of your life, and maybe she won't kill you while giving you a ride home.

❥ Cuddle Buddies | Fluff- You and Chloe love to just chill, especially after a night of Chloe's drunken Chaos.

❥ Blue Haired Baby | Fluff- Chloe loves to cuddle you while asleep, you need to pee, Chloe does not agree.

❥ Birthday Girl | Fluff + Slight Angst- Your parents have never liked Chloe, too religious while Chloe was... Chloe. Crying on your birthday was not something you wanted, but a certain surprise from your girlfriend just happens to bring your spirits up.

❥ The Souls Among the Stars | Fluff- Walking along the road, you and Chloe talk about everything and nothing at all.

❥ Anger Management | Smut- You and Chloe haven't been getting along, so now you need to settle this another way.

❥ Click, Clack | Smut + Fluff - You need to work, but Chloe has other ideas and she's been waiting all day.

❥ Hair Dye | Fluff - You and Chloe are finally away from Arcadia, but you gotta make sure you stay looking good. Even if you have hair dye all over your face.

❥ I Kissed a Girl | Suggestive - You and Chloe enjoy a bit of karaoke, and what can you say, you've kissed a girl and want to again.

❥ Rainbow | Smut - Chloe wants to try out a new toy on you. And it's got pretty colors, so why not?

❥ Rules Are For Breaking | Fluff - You and Chloe are quite the adventurers at night.

❥ Nice and Easy | Smut + Fluff - It's your first time, and Chloe knows you're nervous so she makes sure to be extra soft. But you're such a good girl she can't help but get a little carried away.

❥ Multicolored Fun | Smut + Fluff - You wanna try out that new rainbow toy on Chloe ( semi part two to RAINBOW )

❥ Soft Massages | Smut + Fluff - Chloe knows you've had a rough week, and once you get back to your dorm she decides to pay you a visit. And make sure you relax, even though she's never given a massage before in her life, is sure has a happy ending.

❥ Night Out | Smut + Fluff - A night out in a new town ends with some fun in your shared hotel room.

❥ A Modern Retelling | Smut + Fluff + Angst - You're part of the vortex club, she's not, you can see where I'm going with this can't you? Just a classic case of Romeo and Juliet.

❥ Ten Out of Ten | Fluff + Smut - Chloe is bored, and apparently starved.

❥ Abstinent | Smut + Fluff - It's been a while and Chloe has definitely noticed.

❥ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❥ Relationship with her (HC) | Fluff + NSFW

❥ SFW Alphabet | Fluff

❥ NSFW Alphabet | Smut

❥ Chloe Having a Crush On You (HC) | Fluff

❥ Random BTS Things (HC) | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ Soft Headcanons | Fluff

❥ BTS Comfort Headcanons | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ Chloe Taking Care of Drunk Reader | Fluff

❥ Dating Chloe and Being friends with Rachel | Fluff

❥ Late Night With Chloe (BTS) |

❥ BTS Chloe Having a Crush on You | Fluff

❥ Chloe with a Very Sunshiney S/O | Fluff + Very slight Angst

❥ You have powers (feat. Rachel) | Fluff + Slight angst

❥ Chloe dating a vampire | Fluff

❥ Chloe as a mom | fluff + SLIGHT angst

❥ Chloe w/ a werewolf S/O | slight angst + fluff

❥ 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘

❥ Being Her Bestfriend (HC) | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬

❥ Junkyard | Angst + Fluff - You've learned that you've got a curse, powers no human should have. And when you have to save Rachel in a time of life and death, it tests the girls if they really do love you.

❥ Wait For Her to Catch On | Smut + Fluff - A little fun is okay, especially when one doesn't realize it's happening... at first.

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cosmetichorror · 2 years

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Sneakpeak of a rewrite I’m doing!

So I hated how “too old for this” was coming out, so I’m rewriting it! Here’s a sneakpeak

————

His breathing was as steady as it could be, and he kept his eyes focused on this party of eight. How in Dins name did they all get up here? The youngest appears to be fourteen, and the oldest can’t be any older then thirty. Overall a rather young group, maybe just an adventurous family looking for some thrill? But the one in heavy armor said they’re close. Close to what, exactly? Are they looking for something? Or perhaps, someone?

He narrows his eyes as he examines them all. Three of them are wearing vibrant blue, the youngest is one of them. He has short blond hair, and his tunic is bright blue with white embroidery of a lobster. Distantly, he recalls seeing a similar tunic somewhere. He’ll need to look through his chest of old clothes he got during his journey to see if he can find it.

The other young one of them has a multicolored tunic with a patch of blue on it, but it’s a deeper shade then the classic royal family blue. He looks rather short, but his face looks like that of a teen. Perhaps around sixteen to nineteen?

The last one is wearing a deep blue scarf that almost works as a cape, with golden embroidery at the end. He knows he can’t gatekeep the color blue, but hylians don’t wear that vibrant of a shade except for Zelda and him! It just seems so out of place to him, and he can’t put his finger on why.

It could be that a bright blue is the color of the royal family, and even now most people respect that. If you dye your clothes bright blue, you get weird and judgmental stares (unless you’re wearing gerudo clothes, in which case people don’t seem to mind) he knows he got a lot of them when he dyed his clothes bright blue, even if they weren’t the exact shade of the royal family. And oh boy, the angry looks he got when he regained his champion tunic! Without the mastersword, no one knew he was the hero. All they saw was some scrawny kid dressed up as a dead champion. He even got a few comments about him being disrespectful, even though he couldn’t fathom how he was being rude at the time. Now, he understands.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linked universe au #botw link #linked universe fanfic #ao3 writer #linked universe wild #read on ao3 #loz fanfic #linked universe in general #thinking about how I’ve never seen a hylian otehr then Link and the royal family wearing vibrant blue #because it’s the color of the royal family I think #and the royal guard soldiers too I guess #but that’s more of a navy blue #I feel like people would be upset Link was wearing the champions tunic if they didn’t know he was the hero #i mean #it’s like he’s cosplaying the hero that gave his life protecting the land #I feel like that would count as disrespectful especially since he didn’t have the mastersword at the time

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randombubblegum · 2 years

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Maybe his next color will be red-orange-yellow like sunset-ish colors? I know he said he doesn’t really like his hair yellow but he did it for the rainbow look so maybe he would do it for the next era too. I think he said in an interview with GDK that the sunset idea was cool and he seemed like he would really be willing to do doing that, but who knows, he lies so often 🙃 So idk it would kind of make sense if he was serious about the next color being a “flavor” because it would include orange, and it wouldn’t just be straight-up red because he already did that. I guess it’s pretty unlikely that he would go with the sunset colors but anything’s possible! He’s running out of colors so I feel like he might go multi-color again.

damn maybe maybe…… i think both red and orange are on his/our radar so i dont think this is toooo far fetched….. i can see a hayley williams type of sunset warm color fade……. he DOES lie all the time so its impossible to take the comment at face value but i agree hes kind of locked himself into multicolor dye jobs with how extra he was w the rainbow hair……. we just dont know!!!!! he cant do anything EXTREMELY intricate design wise beyond the patterns he had in gh era bc his hair is short……. the flavor comment is random and could mean anything but it would feel like sort of a cop out at this point if he went with a single color and tried to be like “ITS CHERRY RED” or something lol

part of me thinks hes gonna try something monochrome? idk. like jet black and shades of grey to white blond. i just have this feeling……

#its a total guess but thats where my money is officially #mail time!

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confusedgoldenflower · 3 months

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My Anime Theory

Ahaha, finally, writing it down!

Main character hair.

Y’all know what it is; characters, usually main characters, but it’s becoming more and more common for just everyone to have funky hair colors (and eye colors) in Japanese anime (other animations as well, but this is most commonly known) instead of just the blonde and brunette of the rest of the world (in addition to Japan’s main black).

These stories are the alternate realities to our universe, in a way of speaking, or fantasies with fantastic elements—impossible hair and eye colors (besides super powers and magic).

SO!

Now I ain’t a geneologist or biologist or what have you, but other animals can have sudden and drastic changes in their fur color and multiple colors on the same strand, so I don’t think it’s completely unreasonable to think that humans could theoretically evolve similar distinctions in our own coloring (within our realm of possibilities). I mean there’s five natural hair colors already: grey, yellow, red, brown and black, all of which are spectrums. And if you’re reading this in English, I think there’s a good likelihood you’ve seen a blonde, either in real life or on TV, who has black eyebrows, or a brunette with a red beard. (No, I’m not gonna talk about the “drapes” and the “carpet,” y’all smut-heads are already making your own conjectures!)

But as reality and evolution stands, humans with spots and multicolored strands (unless they’re going grey) aren’t a thing, so that would be/are in our fantasies.

And anime with all its unreasonable coloring (are there any furred animals with blue and green coloring???) are our fantasies!

Which brings me to my point: what’s the fantasy realm in these animes? Especially with bright-ass blue, actual orange-orange, chlorofil green, horticulture pink and bleached bone white?

Metallic! Spotted! Fucking sparkles!

I’ve been planning to explore this in a few of my fics (grr, cognitive function is not doing the functioning), but I gotta get it off my chest first.

Think about it! We color our hair other natural colors plus everything from the rainbow, there’s even dabbling into metallics—sparkles, if you count the add-ons. So why wouldn’t or couldn’t that be a thing in these anime? I don’t know of any that have explored or even seemed to think about these besides the darker hair colors, mainly brown and black, coloring up to blonde, red, and maybe grey.

Bonus: how much fun would it be for an… I don’t know, crow-in-the-sun bluenette be found by the rest of the cast to be coloring up to a red36 and yellow9 orange? Or vice versa? Even period stories(/fics) could do this. They dyed clothes fanciful colors and found different ways of bleaching, so why not! (Careful, some of those dyes are toxic….😬) Hell, henna’s known to have been used to dye hair AND nails!

(Don’t ask me about eye colors, that’s more complicated to me, but, y’know, animals got natural yellow eyes!)

If you explore this, please lemme know, I’m here for this good shit!💜

#anime #donghua #animation #characters #character hair #hair color #hair colors #fictional character hair colors #character hair colors

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grilledsquids · 3 years

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i have a crisp new baseball cap i wanna wear. only problem is that it’s bright red, and therefore it reminds of a specific type of american i would not want to be mistaken for. but up close you can see it’s got a cute rainbow colored tulip on the front instead of words in white.

#i’m also a minority so like?? i don’t THINK people will assume incorrectly #but i live in america #land of americans that assume incorrectly about everything #hm #maybe i can dye it so it’s multicolored?? dont wanna ruin the hat tho

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transandor · 3 years

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hi uh what if ghostbur and eret talked :)?

sundialseraph: so it’s the day of the adoption. philza sees ghostbur anxiously tugging at his book holsters, winding his ashen fingers around the thin leather straps, staring with blank white eyes at the king. philza sees fundy looking at the ghost of his father, at the ghost of the former’s son, fidgeting with the quill and the papers, ears flicked back a little and fur starting to sprout at the edges of his face. he makes the executive decision to pull fundy out of there, throwing an excuse like “making sure he’s sure” and “teaching him one more thing”. and then it’s just wilbur and eret. blank white eyes to blank white eyes.

eret isn’t free of anxiety himself, but he keeps it cool. he smooths his coat down and locks his hands together behind his back—(reminded of when he did the same with crossed fingers, a cancelled promise). he clears his throat. “so. wilbu—“ “he hated you,” ghostbur interjects, voice finding its way through the afterlife to the clearing in front of the courthouse. “it’s in the song.” eret clenches his jaw for a few moments, then sighs. “i… suppose it is.” the transparent dust he keeps in a pouch on his belt starts, slowly, to shift blue. “why?” eret sits down on the step of the courthouse and removes the crown from his head, turning it gently and watching the light from the sun refract in the multicolored jewels. “i… made a mistake.” he starts, carefully, white eyes flicking upwards to ghostbur. the ghost, the former president, is clutching at the pouch on his belt and staring right at eret, right through eret with that kind of lifeless stare. but he doesn’t tell eret to stop. “during the revolution, i had wanted power. i betrayed l’manberg for the throne, and i-“ his fingers curl tighter around the golden crown, his knees pull closer to his chest. “-and i— it’s fair, that—“ the smell of dying embers pulls eret from that cycle— as ghostbur sits next to him, flaking soot onto the andesite steps. he seems to be shaking. the thin X-shaped slashes glow slightly with an eerie, warm white. “wilbur- wilbur said he hated you. and i think i-“ he freezes, as if he’s thinking. eret lifts his head and turns to face the ghost. ghostbur works a ball of pure-blue dye in his hands. “when you pressed that button, wilbur was hurt. he hurt a lot- but i think as bad a person as him would understand what you did.” eret swallows and turns his head back to the clearing, away. “but bad people can- they can change.” little flakes of soot fall from the figure’s fingers, floating up into the blue of the sky. “and— and if you’re adopting fundy,” he says that name with a smile in his voice, a pride still evident in his hollow tone. “then you must have changed a lot!” eret is crying. he must not have realized, but from under the sunglasses, tracks of tears slowly travel down. “have some blue, eret.” ghostbur pushes the ball of dye into the king’s hands, and he drops the crown to hold it. it makes him feel… calmer. maybe it’s the fact he doesn’t have the heavy gold in his hands, but he can finally breathe— a weight removed. he holds the blue in one hand and removes the sunglasses with the other, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his coat. “thank you,” eret manages, pushing the words from his mouth like he’d been preparing for that sentence for months. “i-this means—“ “it’s okay.” ghostbur says, softly. “you can’t have been as bad as him!” eret laughs, and ghostbur smiles. eventually, the king puts his sunglasses and crown back on. and eventually, philza and fundy return. ghostbur gives his blessing, though the paper didn’t need it. and eret is forgiven.

MY HEART hghsdfhs oh it hurts so good

#answering #submission

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

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OC Basics (Bloodlines)

Tagged by @risenlucifer @faithchel @strafethesesinners @unleashedart Thank you all for the tags! Tagging: @consumedkings @tomexraider @ohfaiths @shellibisshe and anyone else that wants too! (I procrastinated on this so it made the rounds I’m sure)

name: Hypatia Caro alias/nicknames: Tia, maybe a few more TBD gender: cis female age: 27 zodiac: Sagittarius Sun, Capricorn Rising, and Gemini Moon (I wrote it down for these guys!) abilities/talents: Hand to Hand Combat, Magic with her specialty being healing and comfort, basic car repair, hair dyeing, MATH, novice code breaking. alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Atheist, did not grow up with any religion sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: english, some greek and some latin. Math is also a language all its own and she knows so much of it. family: Unnamed Mother (Deceased), Unnamed Father friends: Conner Enache, Adrian Ivashkov, Sydney Ivashkov, Marcus Finch, Stella (Kind of) sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black(naturally) / other: Multicolored, in the oil slick style eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other: hazel-green skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 5′9″ scars: None at the Current moment features: pouty lips, golden lily tattooed on her left hand, the crescent plantet from Treasure Plant along her right ribs, a geometric tattoo on her inner right arm, an elephant with two heart balloons location TBD, and so many other ones that range from dainty flowers, to slightly bigger designs, to those little line arts that people she met on the road did because they wanted to practice their tattooing skills. I have to make a diagram its just a lot. dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes(PAPS!) or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Shotgun” by George Ezra, “Everybody Loves Me” by OneRepublic, “Young, Wild, and Free” by Snoop Dogg, “Its Still Alright” by Nathaniel Rateliff, “Faith Healer” by Julien Baker

name: Constantin Enache alias/nicknames: Conner Endicott, Conner, C-Man, Khakis, Stiff, Tia will give him all kinds of nicknames. gender: cis male age: 30 zodiac: Virgo Sun, Capricorn Moon, Leo Rising abilities/talents: Multi-lingual, Magic specialty in Enchanting Objects, green thumb, organization (Seriously he would have a perment discount at the container store and for label makers) alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: Complicated sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: Fluent: Romanian, English, Greek, Latin, Italian, Russian. Partial (Could read it better): German, French, Spanish, Japanese, some Scandinavian family: Currently Unnamed Mother (I have a few options), Cryptid Constantine (Father) friends: Tia Caro, Abe Mazur, Sydney Ivashkov, Jackie Telliwger sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black(Natural) / other: Auburn more to the brown, dyed to keep his cover. eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other (hazel) skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 6′3″ scars: TBD features: Illusioned Golden Lily on his left cheek, tattooed runes along his left ribs, a few other tattoos TBD, manicured hands or well at least kept tidy, a mixed face of tired and worried. dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes(Paps is an exception) or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole, “Rhapsody in Blue” by George Gershwin, “But Not for Me” by Chet Baker, “Almost (Sweet Music)” by Hozier, “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” by Duke Ellington

name: Liana Enache alias/nicknames: Stasia, Tana, Stella gender: cis female age: ~500 years zodiac: N/A She’ll never give away her birthday abilities/talents: Magic with specialty in the four elements and life stealing, business deals/running a company, dancer, ability to stay under the radar alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true religion: None sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience languages: Lithuanian, Romanian, English, Russian, Ukrainian, German, there are many others that while not fluent she can hold basic conversations in or can better read than speak. family: Unnamed Mother and Twin Sister (Deceased), Unknown Father(Deceased), Unnamed Daughter(Deceased), Conner and his Mother (Descendants direct line) friends: Carly (Strigoi), that’s it she never has too many or they all died a long time ago. sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other: She’s had relationships with both male and females but never chose to identify as any one sexuality and doesn’t have plans on figuring it out as it doesn’t seem relevant to her relationship status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other: like a blue green color leaning more to blue skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other height: 5’8” scars: None, due to her retaining youth spells she also gets the added bonus of clearing away any scars that occur features: Long hair, high cheek bones, birth mark on her neck, killer eyebrows, extra height due to heels, an icy smile, and a constant look of disdain dogs or cats || birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffee or tea || ice cream(the boozy kind is the only exception) or cake || fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee || sword or bow || summer or winter || spring or autumn || past or future five songs that remind you of them: “You Should See Me in a Crown” by Billie Eilish, “Danse Macabre in G minor” by Camille Saint-Saëns, “Control” by Halsey, “Lilith” by Ellise, “Bad” by Royal Deluxe

#hypatia caro oc #conner enache oc #stasia e. oc #tag games #one day I will get a banner worthy of stasia and conner one day but they have one for now

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mediocrevideopodcast · 3 years

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Hey, I was wondering if I could request a match up? (It's totally cool if you don't get round to doing it though!)

I'm a guy, pan, 5'7, with blue eyes and dark blue hair. Pretty chill and more extroverted once you get to know me, and I love checking out small towns and looking into all the alt/thrift shops. I love horror movies, slapstick cartoons and tend to watch the same show 6 times before feeling comfortable enough to watch something else. I paint my room and change it around at least 3 times a month (it's an anxious tick 😅). I'm the middle child of 7 and I'm totally down with the whole crackhead aesthetic

I match you with...

Leonardo!! Where do I even start with him? Honestly, this sounds like a match made in heaven. He loves how you become a bit more extroverted as he gets to know you; in fact, it’s part of what draws him to you! He loves to play off of the newfound energy, asking you out to do more and more things together. He also loves your naturally chill nature, too! No matter what, there’s always something to do! Thriftshop dates? Thriftshop dates! He loves going into Snowlines and Goodwills a lot, honestly. Who would have guessed? He always finds the weirdest stuff, too. Not weird as in creepy, but weird as in hyper-specific t-shirts and mugs, or strange contraptions. You’re amazed at his weird luck. He also likes to find ugly af granny clothes so he can try ‘em on to make you laugh. It works every time. (He also buys some of them for future recon missions.) He also just really likes the vibes of thrift shops. Roaming the rows of old trinkets and clothes, worn with years of memories is a calm enough experience, but doing it with the best boyfriend ever? Who could say no to that? Movie nights are always fun, but beware of the movie you pick! Paranormal horror (particularly poorly written ghost movies) with lots of plotholes are 100% gonna get made fun of. He can turn pretty much any B-List horror movie into a comedy. (Although, that probably isn’t the most daunting task in the world.) Popular horror ain’t safe from his comedic wrath, either. Psychological horror, though, will always get him. Throw on something like Oculus, or maybe even It, and you’ll have a very clingy turtle on your hands! He’ll try and play it off, cracking quiet jokes every now and then, but the way his voice shakes as he clings to your arm betrays his fear. He’s a huge fan of slapstick cartoons too! He low-key grew up on CatDog and Ed Edd and Eddy, so it has a very special place in his heart. (His favorites out of the two were Dog and Eddy, respectively.) Give him some recs on new ones!! He also loves to watch ‘em with you as well. If you’re not watching movies on TV night, chances are it’s a slapstick you picked. And he’s great with rewatching things as well too, so don’t worry!! He’s super fascinated by how you dye your hair. He gets these little stars in his eyes while he watches you, although you can’t seem to pinpoint why. He’s all too happy to help you get the back of your hair. (He never wears the gloves, and usually ends up with stained hands for a while afterwards. He’s super good at it though! Despite having no hair of his own, he’s really good at dying hair. If you ever wanna do something multicolored or intricate, he’s a safe bet. He’s awful at picking colors himself, though.) He loves going on road-trips with you. There’s a surprising amount of small towns in New York, and he knows ‘em all. His favorite place to road-trip with you to is Cold Springs, hands down. An old, small town with a lot of charm. It’s a comforting town to walk around and explore. It’s fun to look at the older houses around there and go into the little shops that litter the streets. With so many independently owned shops, it’s hard to not find a little bit of charm there. Not only that, but it’s next to the Hudson River! Leo is an avid swimmer, so you’ll probably have to hold him away from the water if you didn’t bring something to swim in. Middle child buddies! Tell him the family tea, he fucking loves it. He’s a super good listener too, and he gives the greatest advice.

Honestly, he’s cool with helping you reorganize your room. If it makes you feel more comfortable, than why stop? So long as you’re happy, he’s happy. He’s also a great mover, too. Literally the king of pushing heavy stuff around the room. PLEASE move your trinkets off of your dresser first, because he won’t move em. He’s confident that they won’t fall over, and he’s wrong every time. At least he has good reflexes! The painting thing is super new to him though! He admires the dedication, honestly. He totally asks Mikey for some cool designs to show you, in hopes that you’ll add em to the blank walls.

He’s still taller than you, so prepare to have him rest his arm on your head and shit like, 24/7. He takes great pride in grabbing items off of the top shelf for you. It’s never in a condescending way though, and he’s fine with backing off if it’s an insecurity. If not though? He loves gentle teasing like that. He also thinks it’s kind of cute, lowkey. He likes leaning down just a tad for kisses. He loves to sit behind you with his arms wrapped around your middle. It’s the comfiest thing in the world to him, and he’s fallen asleep many a time like that.

#matchups #anonymous #i hope this was okay!!

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galacticcheerios · 3 years

Text

Wing AU Headcanons

wJust some headcanons that my friends and I came up with about Wings AU! Plus, a little Wings AU stress exercise I came up with :D

There are yoga courses for special types of wings! Since some wings are heavier or lighter than others, a lot of yoga instructors have seperate courses for seperate types of wings.

Insect wings like dragonfly and butterfly wings that can’t fold like bird wings have evolved to fold flat across the back, but the muscle is stiff and sometimes painful, so people with these wings don’t really use the function unless absolutely necessary.

“HOW IN THE WORLD DO I FIT IN THIS SHOWER?”

Touching someone’s wings without permission is taboo, and violators can be fined/sued.

When swimming, certain wing types can be used as a third set of appendages while others slow you down or don’t do anything.

When people fall in love, their experience is a little like a bird’s courtship ritual/habits(for instance, burrowing owls are very affectionate with each other)

Some wings stiffen seasonally depending on the bird/insect’s status during that time

Some people use family types as zodiac signs. “Oh my god, you’re a kite? I’m a thrush, we won’t get along together” “You’re a dragonfly? I love dragonflies!” “Yea, he’s a bat... so it didn’t work out” “y’know how owls can get”

Owls have earned the stereotype of being bookish and intelligent, so people with a bookish personality are sometimes referred to as “owlish”

General stereotypes depending on wing type as well, peacocks are known as confident and extroverted while hummingbirds are known as shy

Some people decorate their wings

Trans people can get surgeries to alter the wing based on their gender preference.

Size of a wing is one of the things people notice when they meet for the first time, but most people don’t judge based on it.

People can dye their feathers.

A lot of people prefer softer mattresses so they can lay on their wings comfortably. Hammocks are also a popular choice.

POV: you just went through an emotionally challenging situation and you feel stressed and sad. You make yourself a cup of hot cocoa and sit on the couch, wrapping yourself in your wings and watching the rain fall outside.

The Greeks worshipped the winged versions of the gods

People with swift(the bird) wings often have extravagant weddings, and the most popular activity on a date is to go flying. This is due to influence from the swifts’ intricate and dramatic courtship rituals--swifts will plummet down canyons together and pull up at the last second, wings interlocked.

You can get piercings on the wing. Most people get it along the top edge of their wing, but people with thin wings like butterflies and dragonflies get them on the bottom or along the side.

Sometimes the type of wing you have can affect your interests

*shakes wing and something falls out* “ohh, so that’s where that went”

Wing painting is a big trend. Artists with white wings often showcased their skills by painting beautiful murals on the inside of their wings.

Someone also created wing paint pens

“Are you drawing on your wings agAin”

in class, people with large wings or wings that protrude above their head when folded hover or sit on hammocks in the back to make more room

trampolines are a really good commodity for beginner flyers, usually toddlers, because they give a good boost

When someone catches a ball in dodgeball with their wings: “WAIT THAT’S NOT FAIR”

Firemen sheltering people with their wings even if they get hurt

Similarly, military people and policemen have wing attachments so they can use them as bulletproof shielding

Special brushes for feathers to make them smooth and clean, and cloths for smooth wings like insect wings and bat wings

Stained glass windows based off of dragonfly wings

Dancers with multicolored wings and bird of paradise wings

Also, performers/singers with clear wings like dragonfly wings that reflect light like a disco ball, and small children with tiny fluffy wings running around chasing the light

Also, whenever someone with clear wings walks down the street there’s just a horde of cats following them because of the little tiny lights being reflected

Small children with bird wings shed their down so taking care of a child is very...fluffy

So the stress exercise is pretty simple and hopefully it works. There’s just a few steps:

Imagine your wings. They can be as fantasy-like as you want, or as symbolic to you as you want, or as simple as you want. but make it something that makes you smile when you imagine it. You can even reblog this with a description (and tell me if it works!)

Then, just put them mentally on your back. Really feel the weight of the wings on your back. They can be in any position, folded, extended, folded around you. Maybe, if they feel solid enough, you could move them a little.

That’s it! That’s the exercise. It always makes me feel better, so let me know what you felt(if anything)

Also, if anyone wants me to help them figure out what kind of wings they have... well, let’s say that I’m pretty thorough when it comes to this- just shoot me an ask!

the Friends: @GrayWolfie12 on wattpad, @totally-mortal and @cabbageman223

#wings AU #stress exercise #stress relief #headcanons #wings au headcanons #add your own #I actually like headcanons a lot

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vtscasefiles · 3 years

Text

Case File 762-4

Trigger warnings: Isolation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, depression, animal bites, animal injury, cops, racism, homophobia, conversion therapy mention

A note before reading: I am unsure if I have tagged all potential triggers properly.

Case Begun: 2/07/20**

Case Concluded: 2/12/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Washington

Marked as Closed, Payment Declined

This is one of the rare occasions where I am perfectly happy not to receive payment for a job. The value of a life always beats cash, period.

It started a bit...underwhelming, to be honest. There’s a secret message board for Eliminators. It’s not easily accessed, and there’s a rigorous vetting process to even be allowed to view the posts. I was well into my sixth year working before I received an email invite. Since then, it’s become a welcome resource.

The first post on my feed was addressed to me, personally. This wasn’t new, I’ve built up something of a name for myself. I get regular work, but I still can’t afford to get out of this shithole apartment. I mean the door doesn’t even fucking lock. And the fucking “landlord” is so strung out on cocaine that --

[Editor’s note: Personal information revealing where VT lives followed. I have removed it for her safety.]

Anyway, the post was simple enough: a werewolf gone berserk. It’s not an uncommon thing, a new werewolf can take to the wolf too much. The wolf takes over and, feeding off of the human’s anger or indignation, attacks. First, it’s everyone who hurt them. Second, they attack their family. After that...it’s a bloody free-for-all.

Let me preface by saying I hate these hunts. It’s no different than putting down a rabid dog, honestly...the human is too far gone and the wolf operates entirely off of the residual rage. Even so, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t like killing anything living, even if it’s lost it’s mind.

I read the post three times before I sighed and closed my laptop. “This is why I like dealing with the dead.” I said, frowning. I’d be needing silver. Which meant spending money. The reward was good, though...so it’d cover any expenses. I packed up my gear (a wolf’s bane lotion, a femur from a dead wolf and a silver knife) and headed for my first stop: Ramona’s.

Ramona Torrez has been my best friend since...ever. She was born in the states to Mexican parents who’d settled here in the nineties. They’ve both returned to Mexico since, but they come to visit fairly often. Mama Torrez was more a mother to me than my own was, and she’s one terrifying lady. A powerful witch in her own right, she’d made her then boyfriend her familiar through a series of spells and incantations that bordered on the black. His physiology changed, as a result. Despite being in his mid sixties, the man’s barely aged. He’s stronger, faster and has more stamina than any human I’ve ever met...not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Ramona is possibly the most gifted witch I’ve ever met. If there’s a spell she can’t do, I’ll eat my boots. Her shop is a little hidden place. Right on the corner of [REDACTED], she’s very open about what she does. A small sign dangles over the door reading “Bruja” . I pulled open the door, hearing the cheerful jingle of the bell (despite there not being one in sight. Or a motion tracker.) “Welcome!” she called from the back. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” I said nothing, opting only to pick up my friend’s familiar and give her a stroke.

It always makes me laugh, honestly. A witch with a black cat as a familiar. How cliché can you get? Issy’s a sweet thing, though. Purrs like an engine if you so much as scratch her ears. “VT!” Ramona appeared with a wide grin on her freckled face. “Why didn’t you say it was you, dummy?”

I’ll preface that, despite my father being Hispanic, I never had the opportunity to learn Spanish. He was always busy on one hunt or another. Ramona’s tried to teach me, so that I could get in touch with my roots...but languages never came natural to me. Hell, I barely speak English.

Ramona rattled off her usual rapid Spanish, taking Issy from my arms. “You know I can’t understand a word.” I said as she turned to lead me into the back room. Her shoulders shook and she looked over her shoulder with a coy grin.

“Oh, I know. Payaso.”

If Ramona hadn’t been my best friend, I’d likely be trying to get under her dress. She’s a curvy thing, with a heart shaped face and big brown eyes that’d melt even the coldest of hearts. She dimples when she smiles (something I’m immediately weak to) and does this adorable thing with her nose when she’s irritated. Her hair tends toward bushiness, framing her face like moss on a tree. (To my knowledge she doesn’t dye it, it’s just...green.)

“So, darling.” she chirped, stopping next to her cauldron to let Issy dash off through the fabric drapery that led into her kitchen. “What is the illustrious VT hunting today?”

“Berserk werewolf. Probably recently turned...and probably not by a pack. I’m thinking boyfriend or girlfriend. Which means -- “ She cut me off with an uttered curse.

“Which means that you’ll have to get in touch with the local werewolf pack.” she finished with a grimace. “Where’s the contract taking you?”

“Washington state. Little town called [REDACTED].” I answered, not expecting any miracles. I was granted one, none the less.

“Ah. That’s a Native American pack. I met their um...I’m not sure what the proper vernacular is, so I’ll just call her a witch, if that’s okay?” she said, worrying with her lower lip. Ramona’s always been very big on calling people their proper titles, and felt terrible guilt when she messed it up.

“She the Alpha? Or an elder?” I asked, seizing upon the thread before Ramona fell into self-deprecation.

“Well...yes and no.” she said, pouring something into the burbling cauldron and turning it a sickly puce. “She’s something of a Seer. She led them to an old, abandoned ghost town. They asked for witches from all over the continent for assistance in warding and rebuilding. Naturally -- “ “Naturally, Bleeding Heart Torrez helped.” I cut her off, again. She frowned and nodded. “Hey, Ramona, I ain’t saying you did the wrong thing. I’d have done the same. Are they friendly to outsiders?”

“Kind of.” she said, her frown relenting for a thoughtful expression. “You’ll likely be met by an envoy before you make it to the town line. I can call ahead, if you’d like. Let them know that I trust you so they won’t be on full alert.” she smiled, slightly. “Just don’t...shoot anyone that you don’t have to. Okay?”

“I’m not in the business of killing people just trying to live their lives, Ramona.” I said, pulling a frown of my own. “I might be trigger happy, but I’ve never shot anyone who didn’t come after me, first.”

“I know, I know...they can just be a little wary with outsiders. You can hardly blame them.” she said, carefully. I agreed with her, but I didn’t like the implication that I just ran in like some idiot waving my gun around and shooting at everything that moved.

I only do that sometimes.

I stayed long enough to catch up and have some lunch. Ramona’s cooking was always amazing. Her carnitas is to die for, full stop. With my belly full and my paranoia subsiding, I made for Ellie’s. It was time to see if the corpse had any silver.

Elinor Lyktor is a lich. She “died” at some point during the eighteen hundreds. Stomach cancer. She was already a necromancer by then, so when she felt her end approaching...she made a bargain with Death. The way she speaks about the “Lady of the Void” is how some people speak about their chosen deity. But how many of them have actually spoken with their god? Or had her over for tea?

Elinor’s shop was in the dead center of town. The signboard above her shop proudly proclaimed “Ellie’s Emporium”. Her front was an antique shop (all her possessions from when she was alive litter the front of the store). When I entered, her bespectacled gaze caught mine. Even indoors, if she was minding the shop, she wore sunglasses.

“Valerica.” she greeted, pushing from her stool and smiling, marginally. “Lock the door.” I obeyed. What else do you do in the face of a being that could force your skeleton to come clawing out of your body?

“Elinor.” I responded with a nod. “I’m looking for silver ordinance. .44 if you got it.”

“I do. Got a werewolf problem?” she pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were pitch black. The only light in them came from the faintly glowing, multicolored runes that slid across them like leaves on a still pond.

“Not a problem.” I responded, coolly. “Ramona’s got me an in. I just don’t have the identity, yet.” I paused, thinking that maybe I should be a little warmer to my primary ordinance merchant. “How’s the lady?”

“Which lady to you speak of?” she asked, grinning cattily. “The woman I will make my wife, or the Great Lady of Dusk?”

Fuck, she loved her puffery.

“Do you just make up these titles or did Death give you a list?” I asked, grinning. It got a laugh, so I’d say that Operation Butter Up the Lich was a success.

“No, I only use them to annoy her. She’s teaching me a lot, VT. I’d love for you to come over and meet her someday. Isali is a rather sweet woman, if you can get past the fact she’s Death.” she said, earnestly. “Did you know she has a son? And he has children, too? I wasn’t even aware she could reproduce.”

That was enough to get my attention. “Death...has a kid. Okay, I’ll bite: what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. She only refers to him as “my darling boy”. The only thing I’ve figured out is there has to have been a point in history in which no one died. The only way I think she could have had a child is if she took on mortal guise and -- are you even listening?”

I was. Oh, I was. I admit that I was wrapped up in the thought of how DEATH had a SON. He must be one terrifying, austere motherfucker, that’s for damn sure. “Sorry, I was just thinking about what kind of man her son has to be. Gotta be some kind of...demigod or something. Having a mother like Death.”

Elinor shrugged “She described him as being an absolute goof. Dotes on his kids, overtly friendly. I’d like to meet him, someday. It looks like I’ll go wanting, though. He lives in a world beyond ours. An extra dimensional being.”

Now it made sense. I wanted to follow that rabbit hole down to the end. I still want to. But business beckoned and I had no choice but to end this intriguing line of thought. “As interesting as this all is, I still need bullets for something more mundane. Can you cut me a deal?”

“Depends on the volume, Valerica. If you want an armory’s worth, I can’t help you...but if you’re just looking for a few boxes, well...” she smiled. “How does fifteen bucks a box suit you?”

“It doesn’t.” I responded immediately. “I’ll give you five.”

I left her store after securing my ammunition. She drove a hard bargain, but I managed to talk her down to ten dollars a box. I had five boxes, each containing twelve bullets. If I couldn’t finish the job with that, then I was in the wrong line of work.

Now, it’s a little known fact that a werewolf and a rugaru are two separate entities. They both conjure the vision of this half-wolf, half-man meat tank that tears through the opposition like so much wet paper. That particular creature is a rugaru. Not all werewolves are rugaru, but all rugaru are werewolves. The rugaru transformation is only possible under two circumstances: complete acceptance of the wolf that dwells within, or the complete degeneration of the werewolf’s human mind due to unchecked homicidal urges. It isn’t a fine line or any of that bullshit that other people have perpetuated. It’s a simple matter of willpower. If I was dealing with a rugaru, it’d mean real trouble. I could only hope this werewolf was still on four legs.

As Ramona had promised me, I was barely five miles down the dirt road that led into our little werewolf commune before I was stopped. He was a tall, impressive specimen. Fine bone structure, inky black hair brushed neatly into two, thick braids that were decorated with beads and feathers...what really threw me was his smile. It was welcoming. Not a normal sight for me. I killed the engine and stepped out into the morning air, then man walked forward and extended a hand “You must be VT. It’s a pleasure, truly.”

I took his hand and shook it. I felt the tell tale calluses on his palm in the shape of paw pads and smiled, this was the right place. “Glad to be of help. I hear there’s a berserk wolf on the loose.” his smile faded.

“Yes.” he replied, simply. “My son’s boyfriend.”

Swish. Called it.

“That’s unfortunate.” I said, bowing my head in respect. “Is there no hope of helping him cope?”

“I’m unsure.” he responded, looking thoughtfully at the thick forest that shadowed the road. “We’ve tried, but...he’s so angry.” he paused, his gaze returning to me. “I apologize, VT. I haven’t even given you my name: folks around here call me Thunder. You’re welcome to do the same.”

I nodded and smiled “Anything you say, Thunder. If you have another name that you’d prefer to go by, I’ll do my best not to butcher it.” he’d laughed, a booming sound like his namesake.

“Thunder suits me just fine.” he said, kindly. “We can continue our discussion back at the compound. Would you mind if I rode with you? I can tell you about our lifestyle while we ride.”

I gathered that Thunder was the Alpha of this particular pack, given how he spoke about his friends and family. The pack had started on a reservation, but wanted a place of their own. The reservation was abandoned in favor of the Seer’s word there was a place of their own. They all turned in the dead of night and disappeared. No one knew where they’d gotten to, save for the SC. They were completely self sufficient. Hunting and fishing for food, growing their crops in soil blessed by their spirits and making their own clothing. Back to basics, he’d said. I could see the appeal.

“You got a free house I can post up in or...” he’d laughed at me.

“We don’t have internet, power or running water. You might get sick of it pretty fast, hm?” he’d nudged me and broke into that same booming laughter that caused my eardrums to ache.

He’d stopped me just outside of town, where two, tall totems stood on either side of the road. “Stop here. Your car will die if you cross.” he said, stepping out of the car. “I’ll introduce you to my son, VT.”

I killed the engine and stepped out, reaching behind the seat to sling my backpack over my shoulder. One of the two totems stood out. Each of them was carved with delicate care and beautiful in their own right, but the one on the left was the most interesting to me. It was Ramona’s work, I knew the feel of that anywhere. “Torrez did this, didn’t she?” I asked, brushing my fingers against the carvings. “Not the design, but the ward.”

“You’re close to Miss Torrez?” Thunder asked, pausing to look at the totem. “Yes. Spent a week solid working on it. She even refused payment, only asked for one of my wife’s blankets in return.”

“Do you...deal with cash?” I asked, feeling the slightest bit insensitive.

“Rarely.” he responded, eyes still on the totem. “Some of us have work in a town nearby, certainly...there are a few things that trading can’t get us. Gasoline. Generators.”

That threw me and I frowned “Thought you said you didn’t have power.”

“We don’t.” he responded, simply. “The generators are for the Elders who didn’t leave the reservation.”

Well, good to know I’d been here all of twenty seconds and already taken a big bite of foot pie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think -- “ “You don’t live like us. Why would you?” he responded with a somewhat bitter smile. “No reason for me to take offense or for you to feel guilt, VT. Though your apology is...appreciated.” the last word felt forced, but I said no more.

The town was pretty enough, each house painted in accordance to the occupant’s taste. Designs swirled and jerked in eye catching beauty across the wood or brick. Thunder led me to a single-story ranch type home and beckoned me inside. He called for his son in his native tongue and a beanpole of a boy appeared. I say boy, but he was at least eighteen or nineteen. “Introduce yourself.” Thunder said, sternly. “You’re the cause of this mess.”

“Thunder.” I broke in, sensing the tension between father and son. “You know better than anyone that the change is unpredictable...it isn’t his fault.”

Thunder’s stare turned on me, and that friendly gaze was gone. If I’d been made of gentler stuff, I might’ve even backed away. “I’m not upset he changed his lover, VT. I’m upset because his lover is giving us a bad name, and he doesn’t seem to care.”

“Excuse me for caring about my boyfriend, Father.” the boy spat. Even in children, or teenagers...there’s always respect for the Alpha Wolf. To hear the vitriol in the young man’s voice told me one thing: there was going to be a power struggle here one day. “VT, I heard about you from Ramona Torrez.” he said, with much less anger in his voice. “Please...Dorian never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t even know what I was doing and...please, don’t kill him!” tears were welling in this young man’s eyes. I couldn’t help but be sympathetic...but I still had a job to do.

“Dorian’s his name?” I asked, humming beneath my breath. “I might be able to call him out using that information. But I’ll need your name too, kid.”

Thunder’s son puffed up “I am no child! I am a man grown!” he said, indignantly.

“A grown man doesn’t make decisions for his loved ones.” I shot back. “He makes decisions with his loved ones.”

He deflated marginally. “My name is...Crow Flies. He called me Crow...” he said, no longer able to meet my eyeline. “Please, VT...I...”

“I get it, kid.” I said, softly. “I won’t kill him if I don’t have to. I promise.”

Thunder took me from his home and introduced me to the rest of the pack. They were a kindly people, if a little wary of an outsider like myself. Thunder’s presence helped with their misgivings, but only slightly. “You did well with Crow Flies.” he said, softly. “Miss Torrez had described you as a hot head, but even so...you were very patient. And there was wisdom in your speech.”

Despite myself, I flushed. “Well, ah...I’ve had good teachers.” I said, trying not to grin. “Say, Thunder. After all this unpleasantness is done, could I come back? Just to visit. I like it here.”

That seemed to surprise the Alpha, he looked at me and then smiled “I think that I would like that. I think the pack would, too. Once they see that you are here to help, of course.”

I had dinner with the pack, as they all dined together in the center of town (or the old town hall, when the weather was foul). It was a raucous affair, full of song and laughter...Crow sat off by himself. Alone. I thought it best to leave him be. The boy was going through all kinds of heartbreak. The last thing he needed was another lecture.

It was late by the time dinner wrapped up, and I’d gathered a bit more information about Dorian. He’d been cast out by his family due to his sexuality, and taken in by the pack. They’d kept their lycanthropy secret from him...that is until Crow Flies turned him. Thunder had even had a family portrait taken of the three of them. Dorian had to have been at least Crow Flies’ age, if not a bit older. He was dark skinned, his hair styled into a small afro. What struck me the most was his smile...there was such...kindness. Love. It twisted my stomach into tight knots.

I made a promise to myself then and there: there were enough gay, Black men dead. I was not going to contribute to that number.

Even if it killed me.

No one “hunts” a werewolf. You see these self-styled vampire/werewolf hunters enough these days...and they’re all absolute pricks. Worse than that, they’re murderers. I’ve had to kill a couple of them, to save an innocent life...but when you murder someone just for their differences, you’re the monster. The point is, no matter how many berserk werewolves you’ve encountered it all boils down the the same fact: they’re the hunter, you’re the prey.

I applied a thick layer of the wolfsbane lotion to my skin. It wasn’t going to stop a werewolf as much as it would overwhelm their sense of smell and taste. Silver weaponry only works because of a simple fact.

Have you ever heard of a tulpa? It’s...a sort of group hallucination made real. The basic principle is if you believe enough in something, it manifests as reality. The more people who believe, the more stable a tulpa is. Silver is a sort of pseudo-tulpa. A mass belief of silver being a weapon against lycanthropy has made it reality. That’s the power of belief.

Problem being is I didn’t know whether the mass belief here was that silver kills...or simply incapacitates or weakens. I had to be careful. I had to leave Peace behind. If I wanted to save Dorian, I couldn’t rely on firepower to do it.

[Editor’s Note: A rarity for VT. Coherent thought.]

Dorian’s hunting ground had been, as of late, his own home town. His first victims were his parents...hardly a surprise. Poor guy had to have felt betrayed, and was angry for it. Researching the case, they hadn’t been eaten. They’d only had their throats ripped out. That was a good thing and a bad thing. If Dorian wasn’t eating his victims yet, that meant there was humanity left in him...but he’d tasted blood, and he’d want more. I didn’t have time to dally, I had to act.

I drove straight to his former home.

The house had been cordoned off by police tape. As anyone sane does, I ignored the warnings put forth by the police and ventured inside. The carpets were stained with blood...it meant there was a struggle. A vicious one from the looks of things. Dorian might not have even been in wolf form when it started.

I ventured deeper into the house, searching for any kind of clue. There was Christian iconography all over the house, which explained why he was thrown out. It was getting harder and harder to feel anything but repulsion for the dead, sanctimonious pricks. Throwing their own son out just because he’s gay...I related entirely too much.

I found Dorian’s bedroom without much struggle. Posters of his favorite sports teams hung on the walls, along with musicians and actors. I felt a creak in the floorboard beneath my foot, so I crouched and tried to pull on it. It came up effortlessly.

Hidden within was a notebook, a small bag of cosmetics and a pressed flower. Probably from Crow, I thought. I didn’t read a lot of the journal, but from what I did read it was a chronicle of his self discovery. I admired him for the bravery he showed in facing who he truly was, but the thoughts were private. I closed the journal and replaced it, along with the other items. Those were his and not mine to take. If...things went badly, I’d come back and give them to Crow.

I approached the bed, and got a deep whiff of wet dog for my trouble. He’d been here. Recently. I pulled the sheets back and found what I’d expected: fur. He’d even been sleeping in his own bed. This was good. This was very, very good. If he still sought out human comfort, he was still in there.

A sudden creak and the sound of footsteps sent my heart into my throat. I had no weapon, no way of defending myself against a hungry werewolf. The air was probably thick with the scent of wolfsbane by now...I did the only thing I thought I could.

I stood and waited.

It wasn’t Dorian. It wasn’t even a werewolf. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes as a uniformed police officer appeared, flashlight in hand. “Who the fuck are you? This is a police investigation zone, bitch.”

My hackles raised, but I raised my hands, showing I was unarmed. “I’m a Private Investigator. My license is in my jacket pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but clearly this pig thought I was being belligerent.

“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!” he snarled and approached, stepping forward to shove his hand into my jacket. Thankfully, he went straight for the pocket instead of feeling me up, like I’d been dreading. He looked at the fake license with his mean, piggy little eyes. “They hand these out to anyone, huh?” he said, pure malicious glee in his voice.

I said nothing, keeping my hands raised and waiting for an actual question. “So, you think you can do this job better than us?”

“No, sir.” I responded, shaking my head. “I’m only looking for their son. He has a right to know, even if he hasn’t been living here. I was hoping to find a clue and didn’t want to trouble the police department for something that’d only take a few minutes.”

He laughed, cruelly “Well, that’s earned you an arrest, Valerica Torianna.” he said, gleefully. “For interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain -- “

The next thing I heard from the officer was a scream. I hadn’t even heard the wolf enter. The wolf, lean and black as pitch, leapt atop the cop and dug his fangs in. Blood sprayed my face as the pig’s throat was torn from his neck. The wolf didn’t chew. Didn’t swallow. Just spat the flesh and sinew clean out. Then it turned it’s eyes on me.

“Dorian?” I asked, softly. It’s hackles raised. “Dorian, I’m a friend of Crow Flies. You know who Crow Flies is, don’t you?” it backed away, and I took a step towards it. “Dorian, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to help...Crow asked me to help you. Please.”

It snarled...and it lunged.

For anyone wondering if I’ve turned lycan: no. It’s not as...simple as just a bite. I don’t quite understand it, but it has to be an actual, conscious thought. Dorian would have had wanted to make me a werewolf. It didn’t seem he was quite accustom to the change to be able to make conscious decisions. He was only defending himself from a perceived threat.

That didn’t stop his fangs from tearing my forearm open, though.

“Fuck!”, I yelled as it’s teeth dug in deep and ripped my flesh. I had my fair number of scars, but this one would be a doozy. That’s alright. Girls dig scars...well, my type does. Not trying to generalize or anything. Anyways, I was bleeding. A lot.

“Dorian, let go!” I yelled, feeling my bones practically screaming in his jaws. “You’re gonna break my fuckin’ arm!” I balled my fist and started to hammer on his nose with all my might. Nothing. “Dorian, brother, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about this!” I grabbed onto his throat with three fingers and squeezed. He started to choke.

I released him the second his jaws released me. “Sorry.” I croaked, holding my arm against my chest as the wolf wheezed. “Will you -- “ he was gone. I’d blinked and looked at my arm for a half second and he’d up and bolted...leaving me with a dead cop, and his blood all over my face. It wouldn’t matter that he had lupine saliva in his wound, it’d mattered that his corpse would be discovered next to me. So, I bolted.

I returned to the pack’s commune and staggered past the totems. Blood loss was already making my head spin, and I needed medical assistance. Problem was I still had cop blood all over me...so a hospital was out.

I passed out before I could even get to Thunder’s door.

When I woke up it was still night...or night, again. Ramona’s heart-shaped face, her hair sticking up all over the place was looking down at me. “Ah. An angel.” I wheezed. “So, I’m dead.”

Ramona flushed and slapped my chest “Idiota!” she squeaked. I laughed weakly. “You scared me! Thunder called and said Crow Flies found you half-dead! Your veins were torn to shit, VT! You could have died!”

“So just another day at the office then?” I sat up and my head immediately began to swim. “Shit.”

“Lie down, VT. I did what I could, but you still lost a lot of blood. I’ve dealt with your clothes, and Issy brought back your fake PI license. Sloppy, Valerica. Very sloppy. You would’ve been caught if not for us.” she said, standing from my bedside and straightening her dress. “You owe me.”

“Add it to the tab.” I said, pushing to my feet, doing my best to ignore just how sick I felt. “Dorian’s still out there. I can’t let him succumb, I can’t. The world has enough murdered Black men...let alone gay Black men.” my conviction was strong, but my body...

I was wrecked. I could barely stand, let alone run or fight.

“The pack is dealing with him, now. He’s...becoming unstable. I’m sorry, VT, but there’s nothing left for you to do.” Ramona said, hanging her head. “He’ll be killed before sunup.”

Like. Hell. I knew where he was nesting, now. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back. I had to beat them to Dorian’s old home. “Ramona. Think you can drive really, really fast?”

“VT...”

“I’m not taking an L on this one, Ramona. I won’t. I know how Dorian feels, I’ve lived his life. I won’t let it end like this.” Ramona looked at me, tears in her eyes. “What? What is it?”

She smiled and wiped her eyes on her forearm “Who’s the bleeding heart, now?”

Ramona broke just about every traffic law in existence getting me back to Dorian’s home. I’d been unconscious for two days. During that time the pack had met and decided that the only way they could stop Dorian was to kill him. He’d gotten more violent, more reckless. His kills were happening in broad daylight, now. Three cops, a high school teacher and a pastor. None were eaten, but all were killed, viciously.

“He’s attacking those that wronged him.” Ramona said, softly. “He has the power to fight back...he’s losing himself in it. I’m afraid the pack might be right...if he keeps going like this...”

“He won’t.” I snapped shut the cylinder on my weapon. “Crow will never be able to look his father in the eye, let alone forgive him, if the pack kills Dorian. If there’s going to blood spilt...I’d rather be the one hated.” I said, softly. “But I’m going to try, one last time, to get through to him.”

I didn’t go beneath the cordon tape, this time. I went through it. Thunder didn’t know where Dorian lived, thankfully, only the town he lived in. Ramona had agreed to go and ask them to give me my last chance. I had to make it count.

“Dorian!” I bellowed, the instant I rammed through the tape “Dorian! My name is Valerica Torianna! I’m like you! My mother cast me out on my own when I came out to her!” I shouted as I sprinted towards his bedroom. “I know you’re angry! You deserve to be! You deserve your revenge, but you’re going to be killed if you don’t -- “

There he was. Eight feet tall, jaws dripping with blood. He’d lost the plot. He’d lost his humanity. He was a berserk rugaru, now.

“Shit.” I cursed as lupine eyes met mine “Dorian? Dorian, please...I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. Please.”

I was thrown, bodily, through the drywall. Luckily, I didn’t hit a stud or wiring...but I could feel shards of something embedded in my back. Peace was still in her holster, so I pulled her free as I struggled to my knees. The rugaru kool-aid’d through the wall after me, eyes full of bloodlust and rage. I aimed my weapon and pulled the hammer back.

A second rugaru exploded through a window and slammed Dorian bodily to the floor. The pair rolled, biting and snarling and clawing across the floor. More than once I had to scurry out of the way of the battle to avoid catching a flying claw or misplaced bite.

Who the fuck was the second rugaru!? Was he a friendly? Was *he* enraged? Fuck me sideways, I had no idea what was going on anymore! All I knew is I was suffering from blood loss and losing energy by the second.

CRRRRRRRACK.

I turned, just in time to see the second rugaru, deep brown fur covered in blood and wounds, ripping Dorian’s jaws apart and ripping his heart from his chest. “NO!” I screamed, feeling tears streaking my face. “Goddammit, no! Fuck!”

When a werewolf dies in lupine form, it’s body shrinks. The wolf leaves its body, free to roam the great hereafter, while the human husk remains. All that was left of Dorian was a pale skinned...wait. Dorian was(?) Black...this mutilated corpse was white.

What the fuck.

The second rugaru threw it’s head back and howled in victory...and turned on me. “Who the fuck are you?” I said, voice trembling. “And who the fuck did you just kill?”

The rugaru was shrinking, but collapsed before the change was through. I tore my jacket off and draped it over him. When you lose mass that rapidly, you lose body heat, too. If a werewolf doesn’t have something to warm them after a rugaru transformation, they could easily suffer from hypothermia. I rubbed the dark skin that was rapidly loosing fur. “Dorian? Dorian, is that you?”

“Yeah.” came the soft rasp. “Yeah...my name’s Dorian. Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s VT. I was hired to -- “

“Kill me?” he cut me off and glowered at me with hate filled eyes. “Just like my parents wanted?”

“No! Fuck, no! I was thrown out by my mother after coming out. Like hell I’d kill someone suffering from my same pain.” I said, quickly. “I was hired to try to help you. By Crow Flies’ dad.”

Dorian stared at me, untrusting...but soon looked back to the corpse. There was such hatred in his eyes...it made the glare he aimed at me look positively tame in comparison. “That thing was a pastor. A pastor at one of those...those...” he wretched.

“Conversion therapy...” I hissed beneath my breath. Suddenly, I was hoping the corpse would get up, again. Just so I could have the pleasure of killing him, myself. “You gave him what he deserved.”

I successfully returned Dorian to the pack. He wasn’t ostracized, but welcomed. He had gone berserk, just as the job posting had claimed. He’d killed his parents and their pastor, but no one else. After he’d had his vengeance, he regained himself. He hid, feeling such guilt in his heart that he never wanted to see anyone again.

Poor kid.

His reunion with Crow was a sweet one, they’d wept and kissed and held each other so tightly I was sure I could hear joints cracking. I couldn’t help but feel accomplished for what I’d done. The rugaru he’d killed, one Peter Edwards, had been a werewolf for years. Hiding in plain sight...and killing those that couldn’t be “saved”. He couldn’t nail down Dorian, so he tried to frame him. He’d be martyred...if not for one, little thing.

“Oh, I burned his corpse with the rest of the house.” Ramona said, forcing a cup of coffee into my hands. “What went on there was no one’s business, anyway. No one’s but the pack’s. And yours, I guess.” she’d said, cheerfully. “Thanks.” I sipped the coffee. Possibly the best tasting coffee I’d ever had. “Dorian saved my life. I don’t think I can accept payment for this one.” I said, smiling. “I’m happy it turned out the way it did...still...it’s impressive that a new werewolf found the rugaru so easy to control.”

Dorian broke away from Crow and approached me. “Miss VT?” he said, timidly. “I just...I wanted to say thank you. Crow said that...that you wouldn’t kill me. That you were against it from the outset.” he stuck out his hand “I...thank you.”

I took his hand, feeling those same calluses I’d felt on Thunder’s. “I should be thanking you, Dorian. You saved my ass.” I grinned and squeezed his hand. “You have a family now, brother. You’ll never have to feel alone again.” he smiled that same smile, so full of kindness and love, that was in the portrait. “Take care of yourself, Dorian.”

Thunder caught me as I was climbing into my car. “You forgot your payment, VT.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ramona said you wouldn’t accept, but...” “But nothing. All I did was run around in circles. Dorian’s the hero here, Thunder.” I said, pushing my sunglasses onto my face. “But hey...if you really wanna give me something...this job ruined my jacket.”

I received a gorgeous, handmade jacket in the mail a few weeks after. My initials emblazoned on the back in golden thread. I wouldn’t be wearing this thing on jobs, but...maybe I can get it framed.

Yeah. That’d be pretty killer.

Case closed.

#tw: isolation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: depression #tw: animal bite #tw: animal bites #tw: animal injury #tw: cops #tw: racism #tw: homophobia #tw: conversion therapy mention #VTverse #OC #writing #horror

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #396

“every time i leave, you say you won’t be there, & you’re always there”

So, is it gif with a hard G or soft G? I used to say "jif," but now I pronounce it as "gif." If you use libraries, what is the largest overdue fine you’ve ever had? *shrug* Do you ever borrow things other than books from the library? I remember back in the day, they used to offer educational computer games, and I bought a dinosaur one as a kid that I was madly obsessed with. Are there still any movie rental places left where you live? Just Redbox things outside of some stores. Do you ever buy secondhand books (or DVDs, video games, CDs)? Yeah; Ebay is my friend. Or do you prefer them to be brand new? I mean yeah, but it's not a massive deal to me so long the thing is operational or not falling apart. Do you ever write fanfic? Of what? Nah. Do you ever READ fanfic? Of what? Also nah. Do you have a favorite classical composer? No. Have you ever had multicolored/rainbow hair? No, but I would LOVE to. What kind of hats, if any, do you like to wear? I don't wear hats. What is your #1 deal-breaker with friendships? If you're manipulative, byyyyyeeeee~ Who is your favorite character on Bob’s Burgers and why? (If you watch it) I've seen some episodes, but I don't actually watch it. Have you ever had a retro celebrity crush? Like a crush on an “old” celebrity who was most famous a long time ago or is long dead? Audrey Hepburn, for one, is drop-dead GORGEOUS. When you buy/receive new clothes, do you instantly wear them or wash first? It depends on what I bought and where it's from. What’s the weirdest item you’ve seen for sale on Ebay? Idk. Are parents to blame for what their kids do on the Internet? No; kids make their own choices. I do, however, believe the parents should monitor what they do until they reach a certain degree of maturity, as well as the child's history with what they've done on the Internet. Do you use acronyms to remember things? Sometimes. Do you take pills like Tylenol for the littlest aches and pains? No. Only if I'm really in pain will I take Ibuprofen/Advil. Don’t you think Crocs are ugly? Big time. I don't know why they're in vogue now when they used to be so widely hated. When was the last time you went roller skating? Oh, it's been years. Who was your favorite Ninja Turtle? I was never into the franchise. Horror flicks make you: laugh, scream, or squirm? I prefer the ones that make you uneasy. I'm not a big fan of the nasty ones, and I want to feel on edge when I'm watching a horror film, but it's EXTREMELY rare I become legitimately scared. If you could become a doctor, what would you specialize in? Uhhhh. Maybe genetic disorders. What’s the cutest thing a little kid has ever said to/in front of you? I'm sure it was something my niece or nephew said, but I'm unsure of what. They've said many adorable things. Did any characters from TV shows scare you as a kid? Which one(s)? FUCKING KING RAMSES FROM COURAGE THE COWARDLY DOG. FUCK he gave me nightmares. What’s the saddest thing you’ve heard on the news recently? I was very saddened to hear about the giraffe that died giving birth. Do you believe that acupuncture works? I'm not educated enough on this subject. Have you ever been hypnotized? No, and I don't believe it's possible to be. What’s the first food you can smell when you enter the mall? The soft pretzels, omg. That little stand is my favorite part of our local mall. They make DELICIOUS pretzels. What is the worst hurt you’ve ever experienced? Jason leaving. Are huge muscles gross or sexy? Like serious body builders, it's gross to me. I prefer a natural musculature. Have you ever fished and caught something weird? I know I have, but what isn't coming to mind. Do you use an umbrella when it rains? Unless it is absolutely pouring, no. Do you like getting caught in the rain? No. What is the hardest part of cleaning for you? It requires physical exertion and I am INCREDIBLY weak with non-existent stamina. Do you have any fake flowers in your room? No. Do you own any succulents? No. What is your favorite thing about spring? The only thing I like about spring are all the flowers. What is something you find hard to draw? HANDS. UGH. Was it sunny for your senior prom pictures? Sigh. It was a beautiful sunset. I REALLY wish I didn't delete all those pictures from existence. Have you ever seen a double rainbow? I've seen like, a triple rainbow. What’s one thing you want to learn how to make? Your ordinary meals. I really want to be able to cook my own food from scratch. Do you have stomach issues? Maybe TMI, but it's been questioned but not fully examined that I may have IBS. My stomach is very sensitive. When was the last time you apologized and didn’t mean it? I'm not sure. Do you prefer to be the “talker” or the “listener” in a conversation? The listener. What’s a movie that you think everyone should see? Johnny Got His Gun. If you could have any hair color, what color would you want? Either pastel pink or light creamsicle orange. When was the last time you saw your “first love”? February of 2017. Who’s the smartest person you know personally? My best guy friend Girt. What makes them so smart? He's just very intelligent. Book-smart. Are there any bands/artists that get you all emotional? Ozzy. He and his music are so important to me. What’s your favourite aunt or uncle’s first name? Robert. Have you ever done a first aid course? No. What time do you generally wake up in the morning? It varies from like, 6:00-8:30ish. If you could have one superpower, what would it be? Definitely shapeshifting. I'd love to be a druid, man. Do you ever make surveys? If so, are they long or short? No, but I combine them because I don't like surveys that are too short by my standards. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? Honestly, probably never. I love my current hairstyle, but I most certainly plan on dyeing it maaaany more times. As a child, what was your favorite game to play? I was hooked on the first three Spyro games. I would play 'em over and over. Do any of your siblings have significant others? Do you like them? My older sister is married, and I am NOT a fan of her husband. He's WAY too conservative and bigoted and racist and misogynistic, etc. etc. He's wonderful as a dad, like holy shit he loves his kids, but his beliefs are abhorrent. Dad's daughter is also married, and her husband is awesome. Mom's eldest daughter is also married, and her husband seems cool. My brother has a fiancee that I've never met. Do you believe in the concept of global warming? No fucking shit I do. It's impossible to logically deny, especially as the years go on. When was the last time you took a picture of something? Was it yourself? I took some pictures of this beautiful hydrangea bush outside the TMS office a few days ago. When drinking soda, do you prefer bottles or cans or poured in a glass? Cans, because it stays colder. Do you wear deodorant? Um, yes? If you had a pet pig, what would you name it? Probably something very unoriginal, like Wilbur. Do you like Led Zeppelin? I LOVE "Kashmir." "Stairway to Heaven" was madly important to me, but yeah... I can't listen to it anymore. Like seriously, I haven't in years. Do you like hugs? I do. Have you read the Constitution of the United States of America? Only the Bill of Rights for school. Do you have your own computer or use a family one? I have my own laptop. Do you take out the trash? Sometimes. Is there a calendar in the room you’re in? Outdated meerkat ones. What is your best friend’s name? Sara Jane. :') Have you ever seen a real-life cop chase? Maybe? What is your favorite shape? Circles. Are pigs adorable or dirty? They're precious! And pigs are actually a lot cleaner than people think, if they're not muddy. Anything moldy in your house? Not to my knowledge. Our old house had a serious mold problem, though, which is the primary reason we had to move. Especially with Mom having cancer at the time, she needed to be in the most sterile environment possible. Have you ever been in an earthquake? No. Do you enjoy history? No. Are you watching TV right now? No, but rather GameGrumps on YT. Could you ever be a mortician? True shit, it actually doesn't seem THAT bad. Can you solve a Rubik’s cube? Never seriously tried. How many pets do you have? Just two right now. Are you more close with your mom or dad? My mom. Who is the person that has impacted your life the most? Jason. Or Mom. Have you ever had a pet fish? Yeah. Poor things, they had terrible husbandry. I've learned a hell of a lot from a YouTuber/streamer that is like obsessed with fish about just how misinformed people are on how to take care of various fish. Your goldfish in that little bowl died for a reason, you know. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Do you prefer tea or coffee? Both suck. Have you ever vaped? No. How did your parents meet? They were co-workers. What was your first word? "Dada." Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? ... I mighta lmao. When was the last time you had Nutella? A long time ago. It reeeeaaaally needs to stay out of my house, because I will eat it straight out of the jar. Name someone with a sexy sounding voice. So I don't know where this was, but Mark was once credited in something as "if chocolate had a voice" and I was like YOU FUCKIN BET YOUR SWEET ASS.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''jet city woman'' by queensryche

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