#AND A NIGHT THAT PLAGUES YOU WITH MOSQUITOS

[bilal-salah0]

While children around the world enjoy the summer holidays within the safety and comfort of their homes and plan fun beach trips with their families, our kids' childhood has been reduced to securing the bare minimum of food and water, fending off swarms of disease-carrying insects, and enduring the stifling heat inside the hellish tent. Seeing them fill water containers and struggle to carry them with their tiny hands breaks my heart into a million pieces. Our babies fall asleep drenched in sweat and keep waking up crying and gasping for breath. What makes it even more unbearable are the plagues of flies and mosquitoes that keep torturing their little fragile, malnourished bodies, increasing the risk of contracting infectious diseases, with no medical care available. They also face a very real and imminent threat of dehydration due to water and formula scarcity.Their older siblings are encumbered by burdens way beyond their years. They think it is their responsibility to fill heavy water containers and protect the newborns, but the truth is they are as vulnerable to the same threats that keep growing every day. No child should live in such a hostile environment. Rubble, garbage, and the smell of death are all around.

Our kids used to have a beautiful spacious home built after years of toil and sacrifice, just to be turned into ruins in the blink of an eye. Now, they are given no other choice but to be confined to the tight airless space of a makeshift tent swarming with all sorts of insects. Even if they go outside the only things that await them are the scorching sun, the hot summer air, and foul smells all day long. The summer nights are often equally suffocating depriving them of desperately needed sleep.

Using a wood-fired self-made stove to cook is beyond torture in such heat. It is also very dangerous to the children who keep going close to it. My heart sinks each time I see pictures of them next to the fire. Even preparing a baby bottle,if ever available, is an ordeal in such conditions but my family have no other options. They have been enduring unfathomable, relentless suffering for nine months straight, and they have been more than resilient but they are now way beyond exhausted. They have been daily fighting for their very survival but there's no guarantee of safety anywhere in Gaza as not only what is left of the buildings but also the tents are being indiscriminately bombed every single day. Even going to the beach to escape the sweltering heat has become a perilous journey for my family, and countless others, since civilians keep being targeted with airstrikes there too.

My family were not allowed to have even the slightest respite since the beginning of this waking nightmare. They have been striving to survive bombing, malnutrition, disease, the cold winter, and now the deadly heatwaves.

When I left Gaza shortly before the war, my dream was to build a brighter future for my loved ones. I have never imagined, once in my life, that I would be raising funds to literally save their lives. Now, my only wish is to keep them alive and as safe as possible, given the circumstances.

Your support is their only hope and solace amidst all the pain and loss. Please do whatever you can to help me save them from this brutal literal decimation of our people. Every contribution counts! Keep our babies in your thoughts and prayers 🙏 And Please donate any amount you can spare and reblog as often as you can. It is beyond words to say how grateful I am to everyone standing with us 🙏

[no-see-um-incorrect]

OK I think you’ve waited long enough 

My apologies if this Sucks Ass

In All My Years 

William/Marie (1/3)

TW ⚠️colm being awful⚠️harmful hands have been placed⚠️cursing⚠️smoking⚠️ arguing⚠️ mentions of past addictions and trauma⚠️

“JOEY! I NEED AN ADAM AND EVE ON A RAFT FOR TABLE SIX. MARIE GET THOSE FRIES TO BOOTH TWO!”

“You got it boss!”

She quickly stacked the plates on her arms and heads over to the table before feeling a buzzing in her pocket 

“here you go that’s two orders of french fries two orders of cheese fries, and two orders of chili fries right?…..good everyone enjoy”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket 

CALLER ID:  David 

“SADIE IM TAKING A TEN”

She quickly hangs up her apron and goes out the back door behind the restaurant. And answers the phone

“hello Marie”

“David sweetheart, I wasn’t expecting your call how’s the morning been treating ya?”

“it’s been going fine other than the fact that Asher almost put regular gas in my diesel truck. this morning has gone smoothly. How about yourself?”

“just trying to get through lunch rush”

“well, I commend you I have a hard enough time making sure tank and Christian don’t rip each other’s heads off I can’t imagine dealing with rude entitled customers”

“well when you got a little over 17 years worth of practice it comes just that little bit easier. So what kind of news gets me a phone call from the big man at the peak of noon?”

“right. Tomorrow we are having a small pack meeting with the house of Solaire.  it will only be a few people, and I would appreciate it if you joined us”

“well…hold on let me see what time?” She hears paper flipping on the other end “does 7:30 work for you?” she thinks for a moment “yeah that’ll work out just fine. Oh and David, by any chance will my son be there?” “yes, I asked Milo to attend as well”

“OK well I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t overwork yourself you hear me young man. Take care of yourself. Make sure you take your lunch break and drink some water all right?”

“yes Marie thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow”

 Curiosity, plagues her thoughts as to why David requested for her specifically. But she doesn’t question it.

The day progressed as it often does and the next thing she knew it was closing time she finishes wiping down the counters and tables, making sure everything’s in their place.

“i’m heading home Sadie”

“you need a ride Marie? It’s pretty dark out there”

“Thanks for the offer hon but I can get home OK. Tell Abigail I said hi” 

“Will do Marie”

Once everyone leaves, Marie locks the door and makes the walk to her apartment.

*BUZZ*

Message from: My little man

“Hey Ma I would normally call you but my phones about to die and I’m out of the house. I Just wanted to say have a good night and get home safe. love ya Ma❤️”

“Love you too baby💋”

She carefully opens the door to her apartment. Cautiously walking down the hall, and upon seeing her partner passed out in the lazy boy in front of the TV.  turns around and head towards the bathroom to wash up.  washing away the day, feeling the tension leave from her head when she puts her hair down.  she ties up her robe and heads to bed. 

—————————-time skip——————————

(⚠️⚠️⚠️ argument⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️)

The day went on as it often does, and  Marie got off of work and her usual Monday time and was now getting ready for a meeting with her pack and apparently a few special guests 

Her hair laid in short coffee curls that just barely grazed her shoulders. The dim light above shining just bright enough to highlight her dark eyes.

“who are you getting all gussied up for?”

She turned her attention to the figure behind her. Her partner leaning against the doorway groggily 

“David’s having a small pack meeting  with the Solaire house….and requested me there.”

She says finishing her makeup. And grabbing her jacket. He scuffs  “still rubbing elbows with mosquitoes Marie..” she discreetly rolled her eyes. “times are different now hon…vampires aren’t as bad as our parents made them out to be…”

Colm slams his fist against the wall “THEY STOLE OUR LAND AND KILLED OUR PEOPLE!”

She was upset at his behavior, but in an effort to not escalate the situation further, she kept her tone calm  “we live in America Colm. Half of history, is people taking land and killing people…the way I see it is easier to form an opinion on an individual then where they came from…..AND you know our pack doesn’t tolerate that kinda attitude” he got up in her face as if trying to intimidate…but if he knew the woman he was talking to for even a day, he would know that she’s beyond intimidation 

“David is just as spineless as his father was…this pack Isn’t even a WOLF PACK ANYMORE!”

“what are you trying to say?”

“our alpha and beta are engaged to humans! One of our strongest is with a Vamp, OUR SON IS-”

“DONT. Do not bring our son into this colm…..the boys are happy and that’s all I care about. I’m not gonna….i’m not gonna fight about that…..I gotta go I’m gonna be late-” he pulls her arm with a death grip “colm That Hurts!” He tightens his grip  “you Do NOT talk back to me woman I AM THE MAN OF THIS HOUSE. YOU LISTEN TO ME! YOU GOT THAT!” Before she could even conjure a response  he was already gone.

She rests back on the wall, slowly sliding to the floor. Her arm stung worse than anything he’s done before. Some tears escape her eyes before she quickly whips them away. “Come on Marie..you got no time for that right now..”

She gets up and stands there for a moment trying to gather her bearings when she hears *PING*

Message from: my little man 

“Me and sweetheart were just about to head out Are you sure you don’t want us to get you? it wouldn’t be a problem”

“i’m good baby I was just about to head out. need some fresh air anyway”

“all right Ma, see you there”

 she put her phone in her pocket and quickly looks in the mirror  before heading out the door.

————————at the pack Den————————-

Marie arrived, just as she sees her son and his mate walking inside. She Quickly makes her way in there, nearly bumping into Sam. “oh, I’m sorry sweetie”  Sam turns to face her a slightly concerned look on his before shifting to a smile  “oh, you’re fine Miss Greer. if you’re looking for Milo, I think I saw him and my mate talking to Asher” she gives his arm a squeeze  “thank you hun”

She walks up behind tank  and softly places a hand on their shoulder  “i’m not too late am I?” Darlin gives her a side hug  “you’re good mama M the Solaire’s aren’t even here yet” the slight brush against her arm stung but she tried not to let it show. Milo turns to face his mom before a feeling of concern washes over him “hey Ma… what’s this mark on your arm? Did something happen?” she winces in pain at his touch  “Oh I didn’t realize it left a mark…it’s nothing honey just a little workplace injury” sweetheart appears next to Milo’s shoulder  delicately replacing his hands on Marie’s arm  “here Marie let me get that for you”

“Oh thank you honey” sweetheart quickly heals  the wound with ease the pain relieving from her face  “what kind of workplace injury did that Ma?” “Milo it was just a simple smack from a cupboard nothing ya ma can’t handle no need to worry, baby” he let it go….for now. You see

if Milo knew how his dad was to his mother…….he would commit violent homicide. So Marie kept it from him. she felt that it was easier for him to swallow that his father made a full recovery when he left home vs his father taking out his frustration in new ways.

————————Solaire pov ———————————

William looked out the window seeing the park  passing them by illuminated in fairy lights.

“You know I could have driven us instead of having you waste the extra dime on a car” Vincent spoke catching Williams attention  “oh please Vincent. I have the dime to waste. plus I know you partner wasn’t feeling well I would hate for them to need something while we are gone and be stranded without a car….how are they feeling by the way?” With a soft laugh  Vincent turns his attention to the lock screen of his phone  “they’re in good spirits…they had a nice laugh about how funny it was that a vampire can get food poisoning” William returns his laughter  “….. you’re lucky you know…it is not common for vampires to find love as deeply felt as you both. I have had many people tell me how envious they are of you two….” he turns his attention back to the window. Vincent had a strange feeling after he said that. a strange feeling he wasn’t saying all that he meant. But he let it go.

 William was old, older than the very city he lived in, older than all of its citizens, older than the university that held the cities name.

And to someone who has been around that long The concept of love seems like a faint memory, A movie that he has seen only once or twice but that he hears references from every day. And for some reason he can’t find a place to watch that movie again.

The car arrives at the Pack Den. And the two vampires make their way to the front door when William hears a quite remarkable sound coming from inside.

————————————————————————

“I’m sorry. Did you just say you FELL DOWN A MOUNTAIN?!” he analyzed the voice as it echoed through his brain 

“Heh. Looks like milo’s in trouble again”

“I beg your pardon?”

“you’ll see*Knock knock*…….Asher!”

Behind the door was a tall man with a bright smile

“Hey Vincent! OH! And your highness..” he  attempts to bow before he is stop “no need ash” the younger man nods as they walk inside. William looked around still trying to find that voice. “Oh..um my name is Asher Talbot I’m the  beta of the Shaw pack” he extends his hand out awkwardly. The king returns the gesture “it nice to put a face to the name. David has told me great things” just as he said that David entered the room “William, Vincent. I hope it was Easy Getting here i know it’s not the most convenient spots”

“No trouble. Will had a nice time seeing all the murals on the way here” he shook his hand. “Yes. I don’t get a chance to come to this side of town often..it is quite beautiful”

David gestures to the pack room. Moving the conversation in there

“William there is someone I want you to meet” he signaled across the room. A shorter man in gold chains and casual bright floral button up walks over next to David “Milo. This is king William Solaire. William this is one of our packs strongest. Milo Greer” the smaller man rolled his eyes before speaking “it nice to meet ya William” he shook his hand  “You as well” as the small conversation continued he glances past Milo’s shoulder 

William’s POV:

Oh. Oh my.

She’s standing there.

What a site 

Her body curved in all of the most beautiful places, her skin shines with a copper glow, and that face. Michelangelos statues would be jealous.

“William!”

Nobody’s POV:

“William!”

The older man was snapped out of his thoughts.

“Will. We’re about to start. Are you ready?” He lightly shook his head clearing his thoughts “oh. My apologies we can start now yes”

Maria’s POV:

I was talking to Sam waiting for the meeting to get started. When out of the corner of my eye. I see Vincent and Milo. and….Oh

I make eye contact with the man shaking hands with my boy.

Well, ain’t he a looker. 

“Sam honey, who is that man standing next to Vincent?” Sam turns around. Before facing me again “That’s my king William.  don’t be fooled by the slightly intimidating appearance he’s a very nice man” bold of him to assume his appearances  isn’t very nice too.

 Chiseled face, silver Fox…..Wait NO Marie Greer WHAT are you thinking!?-Oh he’s looking at me..oh

Eyes. he’s looking…at me…..oh those eyes-

FOCUS MARIE!

Nobody’s POV

“Today we are joined by the house of Solaire. Who you may also know as the vampire clan that shares our Sam collins. Everyone meet king William and I’m sure most of you know of his prince. Vincent”

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you”

The meeting went on as most pack meeting do. Although to be completely honest, none of it was absorbed.  the two were too busy dancing there glances and attention around each other.  almost like a little game that neither of them knew they were playing. a game of who could look the longest without getting caught by the other.  who could take in the most information about the others appearance before the other turns their head. Of course William spoke when he needed to and Marie added her input where she felt necessary. But nothing more. 

At the end of the meeting they both mingled about until Milo decides to introduce her.

“William this is my Ma. Marie” quite enthusiastically She extends her hand out in front of her.  “Sam tells me a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to meet ya” he softly turns her hand and kisses the back of her palm  “And It is more than a pleasure to meet you Miss Greer” the corners of her mouth curl up into a soft grin “well ain’t you sweet” “well it is not every day I see someone like you in my glances. Sam as well as Vincent and your son here has told me a lot about you. All good things I can assure you”

————————————————————————

Darlin walks out of the pack den  and sees Vincent sitting on the bench, a trail of smoke following his hand with the small amber illuminating his rings 

“you smoke?” he quickly looks up at the unexpected voice before relaxing his head again “lovely doesn’t like it, but takes the edge off every now and again….want one?” he tilts the open box towards them  “what kind?” he squints at the label “Marboro black menthol 100s..” they shrug their shoulders and walk over to the bench sitting beside him  “yeah sure why not”

“so..what kind of edge are you trying to takeoff with these Princey” he signed rubbing his eyes with his palms “…..i’m just worried about Will I guess....I mean Williams a nice guy…sometimes too nice ya know. He’s not the kinda guy to let you know that somethings wrong” Darlin takes a drag of the cigarette  “*Coughs*.. so how can you know if somethings wrong if he won’t tell you” “exactly! Like he seems content enough, but  what does he do? He watches Bob Ross, buys properties AND READS  but he doesn’t hang out with people he’s not that kind of dude and I don’t want him to-” “feel lonely? Yup been there before”

Vincent puts the finished cigarette in the ashtray and rests his elbows on his knees  “I wouldn’t stress about it too much Vinny he’s been around for however fucking long i’m sure he’s come up with ways to deal with loneliness….but I will tell you one thing…” they put out the half finished cigarette on their finger and stuff it behind their ear “I saw how he was looking at a particular pack member of mine tonight and..…something tells me Willy Boy won’t be lonely for too long” they say before quickly running back inside  “WAIT HOLD ON! what do you mean?”

He rushes inside to see darlin peering behind a doorway 

“Look!” They whisper, signaling him to come next to them. What does he see?. William

But he’s not alone 

“And Asher was the worst of them always taking dares and bets. he barely knew how to ride a bike without training wheels on LET ALONE! Down A damn near vertical hill” William laughed with a smile that could light up a room “and I thought The newborns were a handful! They must consider themselves lucky to have such an impressive  healer in their pack and you son must be grateful to have a good teacher” she shrugs her shoulders  “actually Milo never had much interest in healing magic BUT he had plenty interest in the ration of shit territory. I was younger when I had him, and peoples opinions about that were less than forgiving….so I wanted to raise him with a strong spine and a loud voice so he can dish out just as much as he takes ya know” the king nods in agreement “from what David tells me you’ve done a splendid job at that…now forgive me if I am speaking out of turn but. Is his father with us?”

She signed with a small smile “he’s at home…Colm is a…character alright..” William slightly tilts his head in confusion “he must consider himself a very lucky man to have a woman like you by his side” her brain rattled with the events from earlier “yea I don’t know if that’s how he’d phrase it” William looks her in the eye with a genuine smile “well that’s how I would phrase it” she smiled at the comment “Thank you. That’s quite the compliment from someone like yourself” he raises an eyebrow  “Someone like myself?” An almost devious smirk appears on her face “yea..a looker such as yourself saying, something like that about Little old me. i’m flattered” he was slightly taken aback at her boldness but instead of taking it back, he double down  “i could say more if you’d like. I must confess ever since I first walked in here…my mind has been filled with an abundance of things to say”

“Oh is that so~” “MA! You ready to go!” before the king could respond Milo had intervened. “just a second hon!” She reaches into her purse and grabs a small notepad and a pen. Quickly scribbling something. and handing it to William  “give me a call..if you wanna chat some more” William takes the paper and smiles  “I will. Thank you. it was wonderful meeting you Miss Greer”

“oh please. call me Marie”

—————————Time skip———————————

Time went on as time often does… but this time it’s different.

Marie and will had been taking nearly every day since then. And yes, you heard that correctly. “will”

Not William, not Mr. Solaire 

Just Will.

They would talk about life and like William said he had no shortage of giving Marie any compliments  that didn’t cross a particular unsaid line.

“special delivery for a Miss Marie Greer?” Marie rushed to the front of the diner “I’m Miss Greer. What’s this about a delivery?” The delivery boy handed her a small bouquet of orange roses.  “these were sent for you. Have a wonderful day” the delivery driver left and Marie was just a tad bit clueless as to who would send her flowers at her place of work. That is until she read the card. 

“Orange roses. Bright and bold. reminds me of someone I know…”-WS

With a big grin on her face she rolls her eyes, and sets the flowers down to take off her apron “SADIE IM GOING ON LUNCH!” Flowers in hand she exited to the back of the diner.

*ring ring ring* “this is William Solaire speaking”

“Hey will” you could practically hear her grin though the phone “I take it you received the flowers I sent?” “Yea. I did. Thank you By the way these are gorgeous” “well I would only except the best. How has the workday been treating you?” She smiled. slowly turning the flowers in the sun ray. “well, it’s been work. im doing a little bit longer of a shift than usual but nothing I can’t handle” “my dear. It is a shame that you have to work so hard. you deserve to be pampered every now and then for how many hours you work” she laughed at the thought. Pampered. sadly, that word had almost become foreign to her.  “i’m a big girl Will. I can handle a longer day…thank you though these flowers made my day brighter” “it is my pleasure….I would hate to cut our conversation short but I’m afraid I have a meeting with my progeny…in a few minutes my sincere apology. If you are not busy, we could talk in person later?” as he said that Marie’s Boss called for her “…….I’ll have to see” “please feel free to decline. Just know I am available” “i’ll keep it in mind Will. thank you”

They both say their goodbyes. And she heads back to work putting the flowers in a vase in the office so they wouldn’t dry out before she got Done. The workday continued like it normally did but Marie’s mind seemed occupied. And her smile seemed just a little bit wider. 

It was 8 o’clock time for closing. Marie sat in the office waiting for her boss to hand her her tips. Holding the vase of beautiful orange flowers. Delicately examining each pedal. Lost in a daydream. “who’s the lucky guy” she’s quickly brought out of her daydream by the sudden voice in the room. “OH! Sadie. I’m sorry I didn’t see you there” Sadie sits down and starts counting the money. “answer the question Marie. who’s the lucky bastard sending you flowers. I know for a fact it’s not that bum ass husband of yours…”

“SADIE!” She would say she’s shocked. But Sadie has never liked Colm…to be fair no one really liked Colm. But next to Milo, Sadie was on the top of that list. “What? I’m right aren’t I?” Marie rolled her eyes and slouched down in the chair  “he’s just a friend…” “A Friend that has You smiling brighter that I never seen you when he calls, A Friend That sends you a dozen orange roses..is this the same friend that was flirting with you at your pack meeting?” Marie was quiet. but that told Sadie all she needed to know. “Look Marie. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life but I am going to tell you to START LIVING IT. Your Life isn’t there to serve others life is there for you to live it for yourself…” Marie remembered what Will said earlier  “Just know. I’m available” and “my dear” about how those words felt. About all the things he said he liked about her, her laugh her smile, her eyes. All things that have been critiqued about her. 

she thinks about how William kissed her hand, About how soft his lips felt. About how when they were talking it felt like an eternity long conversation she didn’t want to end….that’s how every conversation felt. about how she felt listen to not ignored, about She felt talked to and not talked down to.

Then she thinks about Colm…

About her when her son was growing up, she barely saw him and when she did he was lecturing her about something she didn’t do, or about something she didn’t do “correctly” she thought about how even her late alpha one of the most kind men she knew, told her that she could do better. About how even her son said that she Deserved better.  she thought about his shouts. the things he’s broken in his hissy fits.

she didn’t want this.

She wanted to feel safe, she wanted to feel cared about and respected.

“…..Thanks for the advice Sadie….I’ll think about it” she puts her tips in her bag and heads out. As she walks to her apartment her head won’t stop ringing.

What if colm is just acting how a significant other supposed to act? 

What if it was all in her head? What if she’s just grasping at straws and William doesn’t actually-*Ring Ring Ring*

Caller ID: Will

“hey Will” she can hear him talking to someone in the background, but not loud enough for her to make out what they’re saying  “hello dear. I trust the rest of your shift went smoothly?” Was she hearing things or did he sound actually nervous? “oh yeah. the shift went great…and you will be happy to know that these pretty flowers you sent me lasted through lunch rush” William lets out a soft laugh  “I am happy to hear. Now to the reason I called you….. I have a request..An invitation if you will” “an invitation?…. what kinda invitation?” She hears he take a deep breath. Before responding “I would love to take you out to dinner tomorrow night.. if you are willing” she stops in her tracks. Did she just hear him ask what she think she heard him ask  “….Will honey feel free to call me a fool, but are you asking me out on a date?”  she replies with the biggest shit eating grin painted across her face. 

“….we’ll i….I am comfortable with calling it whatever you want…but yes I will confess I did have the idea of a date in mind” “we’ll….then a date it is. See you tomorrow night will” she can hear papers shuffling around  “does 8:30 work for you?  the sun will just be setting so it’ll make things a lot easier” “8:30 works fine will. I’ll see you then. goodnight”

“Goodnight my dear. Get home safe”

ah fuck. Ok this sucked and I’m really sorry.  I realize this is the longest fic I’ve ever made.  and I double realized that I’m really bad with formatting and other things… next one will be better I promise. Um thank you for being so patient for everyone who has been waiting for this.  it has been very much appreciated.  I hope everything is somewhat enjoyable. Y’all have been super awesome and  have hyped me up so much…so I’m sorry if this is bad

Forgive me for any spelling errors 

TAG: @frog-0n-a-l0g @foggytimemachineinternet @weepingredwillow @antipasto-the-theif @prince-damien-of-darkness @everything-redacted-and-others @evansotherthoughts @astranephele

[mxsoyo]

Watching every Dracula adaptation! #1

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror by F. W. Murnau (German: Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens) from 1922

We’ll be starting with the very first movie adaptation of Dracula (that isn’t lost media). The movie is free on YouTube, if anyone wants to watch it themselves. For the uninitiated, the movie is a black-and-white silent German Expressionist horror film. Well maybe it was a horror film in 1922 but from a modern point of view, the movie, especially the over the top acting is more comical than anything. As many might know the movie was an unauthorized adaptation and interestingly enough was supposed to be destroyed after they lost the copyright dispute.

Should you watch it? Eh, sure. It has a lot of funny moments and again it’s free on YouTube. Especially the people, that really like Johnathans and Minas relationship in the novel will enjoy that their relationship is a focal point in the movie.

Characters: Since the movie was made for a German audience and takes place in Germany instead of England, the character names have all been changed (there are versions of the movie with the book names though). I’ll be referring to the characters by their book names to avoid confusion (except for Nosferatu, since people know who that is). The movie names are in the brackets. Jonathan Harker (Thomas Hutter) is just a sweet, cheerful little guy who loves his goth wife. Mina Murray (Ellen Hutter) is quite different from her book counterpart, her actress constantly looks like she is plagued by visions™ and apparently has psychic anti-vampire powers. She is also my favorite part of the movie. Count Dracula is obvioulsy Count Orlok aka Nosferatu. There isn’t really much to say about the guy, he is pretty much exactly how you imagine him to be. Arthur Holmwood (Harding), Lucy Westenra (Ruth), Jack Seward (Dr. Sievers) and Van Helsing (Bulwer) are all relegated to side characters. Mina stays with Lucy and Arthur while Jonathan is away, Jack is also the town doctor apart from owning the asylum and Van Helsing is there to info-dump to the audience on various matters. Renfield (Knock) is actually Jonathans boss in this version before he gets sent to the asylum. (No cowboy in this movie, which I think will be a running theme with these adaptations.)

Plot and Book Differences: The movie follows a lot of the plot beats from the book. The big differences are that the movie begins before Jonathan starts his journey, all of Lucy’s plotlines being dropped and the ending. A new addition is also the theme of plague and disease, which has some very antisemitic undertones (much like Nosferatus design). The ending takes place in Wisborg (a fictional German town that is used instead of London) instead of back in Transylvania. Nosferatu is also not staked through the heart but killed by the sunrise. Mina also maybe dies at the end or maybe she just faints, it’s a bit unclear. Nosferatu also kills way more people in the movie than Dracula does in the book.

Interesting and/or Funny Moments: -Mina’s cat:

-Jonathan giving Mina flowers, her saying “Why did you kill them... such beautiful flowers...?!” and Jonathan reacting like that’s the most normal response ever -The Romainian townsfolk warning Jonathan about a werewolf, cut to a striped hyena they probably filmed at a zoo -all the scenes where characters talk about how it’s totally the middle of the night while the sun is blaring down on them. (I get that lighting a night scene in 1922 was probably almost impossible) -this clock:

-Nosferatu just straight up sucking Jonathans thumb after he accidentally cut himself -Jonathan noticing bitemarks on his neck and being like “must have been mosquitos (shrug)” (This happens after the thumb sucking btw) -Nosferatu seeing a picture of Mina and unironacally saying “Your wife has a lovely neck...” -the acutally very cool shadow effects they use for Nosferatu, especially the ones at the end of the movie -Nosferatu carrying his coffin by himself through the entire town while looking like a kid that got lost in IKEA

Next Up: Dracula (1931) starring Bela Lugosi

[twilightlight-enashinonome]

omg you guys r so good!! i tried listening to vbs’s “music” and it was just awful i’m glad i found real artists lmao

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME.

Alright, listen here, you little asswipe. I don't know who you think you're talking to but I can see why you hid your pathetic little opinions behind that fucking anon label because you KNEW this was backhanded hate and you just think I'm stupid don't you? I'll tell you what, you .5 on a good day good for nothing dick-breath shrimp-ass-posture having motherfucker, maybe you can't tell because your brain is too rotted by cheeto dust, but vbs has some of the best music I and anyone else in the history of the fucking universe will ever hear in their short, pathetic lives. Some of THE BEST. THE. REALEST. are you fucking listening? This group is not just gonna surpass RADder, they'll surpass all the fucking musicians that ever have and ever will make music. they'll surpass MOZART. BACH. BEETHOVEN. those old dead guys will be ROLLING IN THEIR GRAVES and when they emerge from the ground as zombies they're gonna go for YOU first, people who can't comprehend REAL music. people who don't know what GOOD is. and they'll find that they starve, because zombies eat brains and you HAVE NONE OF THOSE. there's nothing in your head, your skull is thicker than the length of the great wall of fucking china and when things DO get through it they go NOWHERE. Don't think that anon label is gonna save you, I'll fucking find you, and when I smack your head with a baseball bat it'll make the sound of a goddamn boomwhacker because it's HOLLOW. I'll get your address and I will hire someone to BUILD A VENUE right next to YOUR HOUSE and I'll get vbs to perform for you for 48 hours like the world's most spiteful fucking serenade. I will somehow get my lazy nocturnal ass up early to arrange a collaboration with vbs so we can weed bobbleheaded bumbling fucking idiots like you out of niigo's fanbase, YOU ARE NOT FUCKING WELCOME HERE. I hope your dysfunctional braincells shut down entirely and you walk off a cliff into an angry raccoon nest and one of them bites your dick off. I hope you get so many mosquito bites in places you can't reach and nobody cares about you enough to scratch them for you and every backscratcher you try and get is sold to you by some sleazy scammer. I hope your fucking crops wither and your livestock die and your family gets the plague and you have to eat dirt to survive but even the earthworms won't claim you because you're so disgusting. I hope you get jumped by unhinged vbs fans in a back alley and I'm among them so the last thing you see is my face. get out of my fucking inbox.

go stream kashika. i'm logging off for the night.

[gravedigg]

Six Song Soundtrack Playlist

Tagged by @ferindencadash (thank you!!)

I'm filling this out for Angel, I'll write up a little list of explanations for each and link his playlist below <3

1. An event that defines your character's past

Bad luck never leaves Your jinx just floats around Like the taste inside your mouth Or the sound when your skull cracks Feel the growing pains It means you're growing up too fast While you were sleeping I was blood red Sharp as a knife inside your stomach I'm squeezing tight, don't let the light in No medicine Daydream tendencies had you smiling soft and sweet Keep those blurry memories somewhere safe You may need them You can make a wish But there's no rabbit out the hat Realize it's never coming back Realize it's never coming back

2. How your character sees themselves

Waiting for the train In the dead of night I howl We all have our evils We're told just to keep calm Curled up and feeble Plagued by our brains, the internal sinking pain I wish I was equal, if only that simple I wish I was people (I WISH!) The train it now arrives, I plead just take me home

3. How others view them

Driving faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette and lie some more These conversations kill Falling faster in my car

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Well, prove to me I'm not gonna die alone Unstitch that shit I've sewn To close up the hole that tore through my skin Well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in You said, "I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone But trust me to take you home To clean up that blood all over your paws

5. A major fight scene

As it fell on Job's eyes, this water of doubt, he said, "I'm wading in lies, it's wearing me out. But if you want it, all right. I'll buy it." Blood too dirty for mosquitos, I hope that you die soon. Pray to any god you believe in. Those people, they had families. Their families don't have them. You're not any god I believe in. I hope the rain ruins the work you did.

6. End credits song

It's okay, I don't even cry all I think about is a memory and the dream when you kissed my arm as I look away, don't hear what I say That maybe when I die, I'll get to be a car driving in the night lighting up the dark. something in your voice it sparks a little hope I'll wait up for that noise your voice become my home

All of these are from Angel's playlist which is organized as a timeline of his life, from his childhood in foster care, to enlisting in the army at 18, serving in the Gulf War and losing his leg, to the ensuing depression while he recovers and relearns how to walk, to his lengthy bender of sex & drugs when he moves to the city and finds out about gay bars, to him trying desperately to pull some semblance of a life together with what scraps of himself he has left.

As a bit of a guide;

An event that defines your character's past

This ones in reference to Angel's injury while serving in the army, an explosion tearing through his leg and shrapnel ripping up his shoulder and face. He spent a good amount of time bouncing between hospitals, from field hospitals to Germany and back state-side, and had to come to terms with the reality and severity of his injury.

2. How your character sees themselves

I think in many ways its always been this way, but it definitely worsened after being disfigured; Angel has always seen himself as less of a person and more of a monster, which is why he's always felt a sort of kinship with the Monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I think its a potent cocktail of autism, self esteem issues, and the endless, clinging isolation of growing up in the foster system.

3. How others view them

I think from an outside view Angel comes off as really mysterious and cool, he's very serious and quiet and drives a motorcycle. But in reality hes just autistic and terribly uncomfortable and would rather be at home.

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

It takes so much patience and soft love to get Angel to unravel his layers and layers of bottled up shame and pain and desperation. He learned from a young age that to survive he needed to keep as much of himself hidden as he could, and he's clung to that sentiment his entire life. He struggles so much expressing when hes suffering and asking for help, will keep things bottled up even when he knows hes sabotaging himself.

5. A major fight scene

This one's the climax point of his experience with war, having whatever faith he clung to shaken hard when he saw sheer cruelty and mindless violence of it all.

6. End credits song

This is the last song on his playlist, to me it symbolizes this feeling of hope for a future that's really new for Angel, he's spent so long trying to just get through each day. Having someone by his side that he can dream of a future with is more than he could have ever asked for.

Also im tagging @nullshocked, make this for Jules pls.

And if you're reading this, you should do one for your oc :-)

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Tossed Around Like Sea Glass (You Rounded Out My Edges)

or: Person A is about to move out of the house they grew up in. Before they leave, they call and invite Person B over so they can dig up the time capsule that they had buried in the backyard together when they were kids.

a parade of shoeless feet smack against hard concrete. the feet are covered in mosquito bites, crosses from fingernails in them (“if you put a cross through it,” hasan had said over light from a roaring fire, the flames lick at his face, “they stop itching.”) but if they bother the two, they show no signs of it.

“Last one to the lake has to look for the sticks tonight!”

Hasan is crouching, having just lifted a rock up in search of rollie pollies, his second favorite bug-waits until the moon is high in the sky and the mosquitos buzz by his ears to pull you by the hand, an old mason jar with knife holes at the top, to search for lightning bugs for you two to sleep with.

“no fair!”

but he’s off, long gone, laughing as the wind pulls at his hair-for a second he’s confident-before he always face plants down, trips over this feet-you aren’t sure if it’s on our purpose or not at this point, how you’ll hold his chin your palm as you check for injury, always kiss it better, how the pink rises in his cheeks after.

how he always insisted you two had a “perfect spot”; the back channel where the water was too low for boats and the fireflies danced above the water reading you both- how he’d light up with wide eyes when he saw them: “jackpot.”

You two orbit to each other, floating into each other, reaching out always pulled away-you’re always wishing to spend a second with him, in his hemisphere, where you can finally ease into him, lift the imaginary gun off his shoulders and leave it by the door where it stays.

you remember it clearly, maybe the most clear of everything:

a mop of unruly curled hair you imagine he spends the morning in front of the mirror, yanking and twisting at it, trying to finally get it to fall into place and not betray him. and if you’re lucky enough to get close to him, to be in his orbit-freckled cheeks with a constellation of freckles on them-you imagine if you get close enough to him you can trace the constellations-big dipper and little dipper, orion tucked carefully in a corner, hidden away

the voice in your head sounds strangely close to hasan’s voice. raises with the same inflection, low when it’s a shared secret between you two-you hope to ever lose it.

nights catching fireflies, sharing a too small beach towel on a slowly rotting pier, his hand outstretched at a never ending sky, his voice low as he talks about the stars, the myths that go with them-the way his voice drops when he gets excited, like he’s embarrassed for you to see this part of him.

time passes. slowly and quickly at the same time. hasan stays in the small town he always joked he was plagued with, could never shake, how his dad would always joke people were born here and died here, never stumbled here by accident, stuck here like some ancient curse.

when the house went for sale, you stayed behind as long as possible. not all by accident, not all because of these deadlines for work that made you want to pull at your hair, find any and all excuse. you do, for a long time.

finally, you stand in the too small cottage, all furniture gone and peeling paint, can hear the waves crash into the sand back, retreat back into the lake, a battle cry as they collide with the land again.

it’s too small without him.

the phone call was awkward. you spent a good amount of the time pacing on the hardwood floors, side stepping the pieces of floor you know creaked and groaned under your pressure.

“Hey uh-“ you shake your head as you talk, squeezing your eyes shut. it’s weird, introducing yourself to someone who use to be your person, your entire personality, always the two of you, a packaged deal, “look i’m-were moving and i wanted to know if you were up for one more adventure.”

he comes to the door a towering human that finally grew into his too big shoulders, how he’d trip over his feet when he ran, how he shoves his phone into his pocket, stands up a little straighter when he sees you, how he stutters out an introduction, like you don’t see his face behind your eyes every night when sleep is impossible.

you worry conversation will be awkward but it flows for long enough you have to have him remind you what he’s here for, the mission at hand as he leads with dragged feet to the side of the house, a comically small shovel in his hands.

he falls to his knees next to you as his hands break with the earth, clog under his fingernails as he unearths it:

“here we are.” he laughs, at how low it was buried, how heavy it is in his hands, how it lasted this long

he smacks the ground next to him and you immediately fall next to him, knees knocking against his-no longer scarred and bruised and scraped from childhood.

“here we are”.

it breaks with a pop, and he unearths the first, all photo of the two of you, his fingers doing bunny ears behind you, the sunburn on both of your cheeks.

“you still have that stupid fucking smile.” he laughs, flicking the photo over. yours and his initials are on it in the middle of a heart.

“and you still have those freckles.”

it comes out before you can stop it, but he hums lightly, pulls out a smaller mason jar with a laugh:

“still can’t believe we parted with this,” he sighs, “we were obsessed.”

he hands it over and you roll it between your palms: “the best nightlight there was.”

he pulls out a collection of rocks, the same kind you two would be knee deep in feeding cold water to collect, to share and trade between one another, how you’d slide them into his pocket before he left every night, like you hoped it would keep your memory there.

a handful of shoelaces, pop bottle caps, a barbie and a friendship bracelet, the string long broken and beads in a heap underneath it-

finally, a baggy of pressed flowers, how you’d collect them and shove them inbetween pages of books for him to find, how he’d always act irritated about it but you’d later find them on his desk, in his jean pockets.

it’s quiet for a second and you’re worried you’ll cry, that these memories and him again-will leave you, will be gone so soon, didn’t know you could be homesick for a person until right now.

hasan picks the mason jar up one more time, stained with fingerprints and cloudy from time and dirt:

“what’d you say?” he muses, “one last hunt? i bet i’m still the best at catching them.”

he stands, ignoring how his knees crack as he stands and how he holds his hand out, offering help as you let him pull you up:

“feels like some sort of unfair advantage,” you mumble, “the height difference alone.”

“sounds like someone’s still afraid of losing. cmon, i’ll let you keep ‘em in your flower box tonight.”

you remember the fights, the fingers poking at chests as you both argued who got possession of this nightlight that night, the rotating schedule you two argued about, finally came to terms with-how you noticed the slow progression-from the fireflies that you’d see every night with him, when they danced and weaved and flowed through your feet when he was there-how they disappeared when he was gone-how you haven’t slept good since.

“cmon.”

he unscrews the cap of the lid, hands it to you before he can overthink it he weaves his fingers through yours and gently pulls at you:

“i know the perfect spot.”

[yuutakei]

final love song,,weird fishes/arpeggi

sometimes i convince myself i’ve moved on, that there is not a shred of love left inside of me. even still, upon hearing every song we shared, my eyes fail to hold back the ocean of tears that pool at my faltering waterline. it's an unbearable bittersweetness. i feel my heart plunge into to the depths of the sea.

i press play; try to surround myself in a warm darkness. but, my mind is taken back to a warm summer evening. it feels like yesterday.

a rouge dusk falls over mosquito-plagued suburbia skies. my sister had driven us out, knowing it was our last gathering before i moved away. i stood on the supple grass that lay plentiful in a stranger’s yard, clutching to your chest as if the wind had whispered a threat to blow you away with the leaves - holding you impossibly closer. and, through my ears, echoed a mind-bendingly beautiful cover of this song. i was so absorbed in every inch of your existence i couldn't even raise my head to look at the band playing to our left.

unbeknownst partygoers had emerged from within the house to listen, humming and dancing under the falling light as the song drew on. underneath the ripples of fluttering clothes on the washing line, the frightened corners of my lips turned into a smile. looking at you, i felt as if, for the first time, i could see through the clouds in your crystal-blue eyes. softly, they whispered the same words of love that were thrumming inside my beating heart. i felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

that night at your doorstep,

i kissed you for the last time.

✿ ‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̥°̩̥‧̥·̊ ✿ °̩̥‧̥‧̥ ‧̥˚̩̩̥͙·‧̥·̊‧̥ ✿ ͚⠀ٝ 𓉮ֶ⠀ ⠀ 🗡 ⠀♥︎̼̻ ⠀ ⠀ 𓏶⠀

notes:: ⤵⤵⤵

originally wrote this around a year and a half ago!! it was about 2ish months post-breakup and this song came on shuffle...best believe there were some tears i grabbed my phone and started typing into my notes app and ended up with this (although i did tweak it a bit since my writing has changed improved?? over the past twelve months)

we met at college (he was 17 and i was 16) and he reached out after seeing me play guitar in the courtyard to a small crowd. he went through all my friends to find me online and promptly confessed he'd seen me around campus. i'd been a 'hallway crush' of his for some time and had mysteriously disappeared granted i was still attending classes lol, causing a bout of panic. by a stroke of fate, he saw me again on the courtyard stage, with my shitty fender squire i'd been gifted on my 14th birthday playing 'horen sarrionson' (iykyk). i guess it was a 'now or never' moment from then.

we ate lunch together a few times, which turned into hanging out after school, to finding out he was a 10 minute walk from my house, to kissing him in the back of a car after getting lost in a sketchy neighbourhood late at night and needing a pick-up from his mother.

i was his girlfriend for the better part of 9 months. it started off as a dream. he was everything i wanted and having someone care about me and obsess over the parts of me i hated graced me with a comfort i had never felt before. around 2 months before his graduation and my exams, we consecutively shared and experienced the most traumatic parts of our teenage years and had seen the worst parts of each other, some of which never left.

heartbreak sucks!!! i had to break up with the boy i loved over text (we were hundreds of miles away) during a first-period literature class and cry myself to sleep alone in my dorm every night for weeks :')

but love is never wasted.

and i will continue to love and hurt until my bones turn to dust.

[always-besides-the-darkest]

 “Y’Allternative” and the Southern Goth

Despite its playful portmanteau, “Y’allternative” describes a macabre take on iconic Southern imagery and themes. Think decrepit barns, deer skulls, black butterflies in fields of grain, bayou witches and churches veiled by Spanish moss. Essentially, Y’Allternative swaps the city goth for the country goth. The term has reemerged as a social media fashion trend in the same vein as cottagecore or warcore, leading some to embrace the Southern Gothic aesthetic as a whole.

The aesthetic is rooted in literature dating as far back as the early 1800s. Authors such as William Faulkner and Truman Capote rejected the romanticized “Lost Cause” American South in favor of grim narratives involving death, witchcraft, religious trauma and racism. In fact, a key subject of Southern Gothic literature is confronting the horrible realities of the pre- and post-Antebellum South.

Southern Gothic music– also known as gothic Americana, gothic country, dark country or “the Denver sound”– twists folk, bluegrass, rock and punk influences together to create a spooky yet rural vibe. The last moniker references the music’s origin in Denver, where the scene still savors its popularity. A Southern Gothic tune might rely heavily on the banjo, acoustic guitar or violin to cultivate that dreary backwoods feeling.

Television has an eye for Southern goths– particularly Southern vampires. The HBO series True Blood and the 2022 adaptation of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire place the bloodthirsty beings in Louisiana. Both explore supernatural themes and race in the South, with an additional queer lens taking form in the characters of Lafayette Reynolds and Lestat de Lioncourt.

With these subconscious influences, Southern Gothic fashion employs flowy silhouettes, gingham prints, wide-brim hats, boots and lace accents, as well as a color palette of wine reds, forest greens, muted grays and, of course, black. The result is an unmistakably gothic version of the beaut, belle or gent you would find in a Southern period drama. While some individuals choose to highlight feminine or masculine shapes in their styling, others blend them or adopt an androgynous shape. Further variation occurs when outfits borrow from punk, fairycore, romantic goth or any of the innumerable aesthetics viewable on Pinterest. 

For those of us that grew up with more urban gothic trends, Y’Allternative is a breath of rustic air. It’s pleasantly subversive, embracing the wilderness and its potential for fear. Southern Gothic music, literature, film and television all spin the once-comforting countryside into a landscape of horror. The fashion echoes the past, yet brings darkness to the forefront. 

You might be visiting family in Mississippi when late at night, you spot a pair of glowing eyes beyond your bedroom window. You go outside to investigate, the cicadas screeching and mosquitos grappling your skin. You hear the slow crunching of leaves - it’s too loud to be a coyote. You spin around and run back inside as fast as you can. One thing is for certain: The memory will plague your mind for as long as you live… the potential for screams in the South.

[carterashofficial]

Things that have happened in my BG3 play through (headcanons and actual things) with my bard Tavi, full name Octavia. This is mostly Act 1 nonsense

-her flute is less a flute and more shitty-elementary-school-recorder but somehow she can make it sound good (and she can passably play just about any instrument)

-Tavi’s ‘flute’ is made of metal and she absolutely has brained people with it before. Sometimes she plays Scratch’s belly like a drum and the dog is just so happy b/c belly rub. She thinks she’s a terrible singer but she’s actually pretty good. Her old boss wouldn’t let her sing or be in the spotlight b/c boss thought Tavi wasn’t pretty enough (cheek scar from a tussle as a teen)

-Tavi is always tapping out a beat with her feet or hands. Laezel threatens to cut them off if she doesn’t stop. this does not stop Tavi.

-Scratch decides his sleeping place is curled up with Tavi, preferably inside the sleeping bag with her. Multiple times she’s found a bone down by her feet b/c Someone wanted to protect it (and then Withers is on a rampage b/c the dog stole one of his tibia again)

-Astarion accidentally kills her via using Tavi as his personal juice box. Scratch sits beside her (friend is sleeping!) until Gale realizes she’s bloodless and he is absolutely heartbroken for poor Scratch b/c second friend in as many days died. so Gale revives Tavi (also: he might have a crush on her but sshhh)

-She wakes up to Scratch 3 inches from her face and he immediately drops a disgusting leather ball next to her head and begins licking her face b/c he’s so happy she finally woke up! Must have been a good sleep. Astarion is now on her shit list. Gale is on her “I sorta trust you” list.+

-Tavi and Karlach have a tap dancing competition which ends with Wyll showing them both up. Both Laezel and Astarion pretend it’s the dumbest thing ever but are secretly watching.

-Halsin accidentally scared Scratch while in Bear Form and doesn’t know how to explain to the dog that he sometimes turns into a bear b/c then the dog will think all bears are friends. His new strategy is to hide a new bone in camp for Scratch so the dog’s distracted. Withers goes on a rampage b/c again. his tibia. and now a rib. its insulting

-Tavi grew up an urchin in Baldur’s Gate and never had books of her own so Gale watches her read anything she can get her hands on and is definitely completely catching feels (she may be reading the books aloud to the kids at the grove). Except he is anything but normal about it and gets down on one knee and presses her hand against his chest so she can feel the curse. Ya know. As normal well-adjusted people do who haven’t been in a tower without contact from the outside world. Very normal.

-Scratch "I brought you a present! It made me think of you" and proceeds to drop a dead frog in front of Laezel. She's flattered. this furry creature hunted down vermin to show her that he is a useful member of the group.

-Tavi gets eaten alive by mosquitos/bugs the first night in camp and is miserable. She looks like she's got some contagious plague b/c there's spots all over her.

-Gale is the only one who calls her 'Octavia' in private b/c he's just Like That. Sometimes he says it while looking very serious and Tavi certainly Feels A Way about that. and he calls her Octavia while showing her how to do magic, and since their minds/souls are entwined, he feels her Reaction to that, she realizes he felt her emotions, so Tavi is bright red in the face while he stammers out that her thinking of him like that is a Surprise (but a welcome one). She can barely look him in the eye, while he can't look away from her.

-The group completely misses the fact that Gale and Tavi have an undercurrent of Something going on between them b/c Laezel and Shadowheart's rivalry is The Subject of Gossip (Astarion is taking bets on how long until they hate-fuck). Wyll and Karlach have taken bets. Halsin wants nothing to do with it.

-Tavi and Gale fall into the 'white people in a horror movie' category and are 10/10 trusting of Auntie Ethel. Tavi never had a maternal figure in her life, but read a lot of books with them. Auntie Ethel being overbearing reminds Gale of his mother. The rest of the group thinks Ether is Sus. Tavi and Gale think she's a lovely lady who can help them with the tadpole problem up (how can anyone evil live in such an adorable cottage?)

-Gale is absolutely enchanted with all the imperfect mortal things Tavi does. Like being sweaty in Grymforge. the wrinkles around her eyes when she squints in the sun. tangles in her hair. the scar on her cheek and how she doesn't always look enticing and takes a good half-hour to wake up in the morning. He'd forgotten how imperfection can be perfection in its own way. He doesn't feel like an inadequate mortal like he did with Mystra.

-Tavi absolutely adores children and plays hide-n-seek with the tiefling kids in the camp. Laezel 100% joins in b/c she thinks its to teach them tracking and hunting skills. Wyll and Karlach are terrible at hiding (on purpose) and help the younger kids look for the others. Gale is pulled into the game by Tavi and he whispers in her ear "you've made me hide, don't make me come seek you" and Tavi, who has never been on the receiving end of flirts like that, is left speechless b/c how do you even react to that.

[theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom]

I've been wondering for a while now. How did you decide on making theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom your url? What's the thought process behind it?

ive been lowkey inactive for ages im sorry i didnt reply sooner ;-;

but the rundown is that i was looking for an url, right? and i couldnt come up w anything and there was this mosquito that had plagued me the night b4 and so i thought i might become what that mosquito has been to me to people over here >:)

it was a fun little thought i had :)

[annlillyjose]

Dairy Whiskey – Update 01

[image description: a hanging branch of orange flowers against a blurry background of leaves. in the center, a white serif font reads, “dairy whiskey – update 01”. / end id]

hello there! it’s been several months since my dairy whiskey intro (which you can find here) and since then, i’ve written about 20k words. yep.

writing has been going fairly well for me even though it depends greatly on my mental health, and i’m really happy with all the progress so far. this is my first ever properly pantsed novel, because up until now, i felt the need to outline because it was said to be more structured and helpful, but when i let go of that pressure and tuned in to my instincts, it’s been working like magic. it’s been such a rewarding process. i am thrilled!

i have written way too much to include in one update, so i’ll be splitting it up into two. cutting out the intro/ramble here. let’s move on to the good stuff!

excerpts and taglist under the cut.

disclaimer: this is an original work of fiction. plagiarism of any kind will not be tolerated.

TWs: this novel deals with themes of childhood and religious trauma, sexual, emotional, and substance abuse, mental health issues, self-harm, abortion, etc. so please be kind on yourself and read ahead only if you feel comfortable

there were way too many good excerpts that i wanted to share, but i also didn’t want to spoil the book and cram everything into an update, so please excuse me while i struggle to make any sense.

chapter three – my brother in plague

in this chapter, ephron convinced dinah to smoke with him and when dinah reluctantly gives into her addiction after struggling with her memories and trauma for a long time. when they smoke in the plantation, ephron asks questions that upsets dinah and she storms back into the house. later, she takes a walk to the waterfall with austin, where they share tender moments that leave dinah confused about their relationship dynamics.

now moving on to the excerpts. here’s the opening paragraph.

In the first week following his return, I stole three unopened packets of cigarettes from Ephron. I’d found them all in his backpack, along with unwashed underwear, beverage shop bills, and several strips of Cetrizine. But today, there was nothing in his backpack – not a single cigarette – so I fished for a packet of Lights in his chest of drawers. That’s when I found it – father’s wedding ring, with the name Mariam inscribed in calligraphic font, wrapped in a children’s handkerchief with blue teddy bears and yellow flowers.

here’s a scene dinah remembers from the past, crucial to the novel, but it’s only briefly mentioned in this chapter.

Soon after mother left, Ephron began to drink openly. That night, after my impulsive swigs from father’s cupboard, he poured me a small peg of Black Label. He’d said, “See, Dinah. Here’s how the pain goes away. Here’s how you’ll forget. And me, too.”

this is followed by a long stretch of past trauma and dinah contemplating whether or not to smoke with ephron, while he smokes two cigarettes in the room they are in. eventually, she agrees to go and they smoke in the landholding.

later, when austin comes home to give dinah a new sim card as she had requested, they decide to go on a walk. on the way out, ephron confronts austin, acting up to be a “good brother” but it angers dinah and they have another fight. fast-forward to their walk and their time at the waterfall.

We took the walking route through Thresiyamma George’s plantation. Austin said it opened to the best view of the river. The best place to be with your emotions. Earthworms wiggled out of the soil. Millipedes and slugs leeched their way up our ankles, the tips of our toes dyed in cocoa colours. Mosquitos bred their wiggly larvae in the black plastic cups for latex collection. Newly spun webs of spiders glistened where small droplets of rainwater bejewelled them.

We walked mostly in silence. My feelings were tangled in themselves, strangling every partially alive piece left in me. The hem of his grey pants looked tie-dyed from the mud. Banana leaves and coconut trees stood scattered, drenched in the previous night’s wash.

let’s just say they have a fun time after this (but austin asks about ephron and dinah avoids the convo because, well, she doesn’t want to talk about him). they go back home after some time. back home, ephron apologises to dinah and it ends up triggering her (quite ideal).

“I am your brother, Dinah,” he pleaded. “No.” I shook my head. “No, you’re not.” I ran to the back door and got into the house through it. I locked myself in the room and crawled under the bed. With my knees plastered to my chest and my hands wound around them like coils, I cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore. Rain began to pour and every other noise was drowned in the sound of water on the asbestos.

In this loudness, I fell asleep.

vignette three – a time to kill, a time to tear down

this is my vignette (but is long enough to be a chapter oops) on mariam – the mother who leaves before the story begins. it details why she left and for whom/what. i’ve shared a few excerpts from this chapter during nano 2022, so here‘a one excerpt from it.

In the afternoons, Mariam leaned out of the balcony in her cotton saree loosely draped around her body. The sun, now at an obtuse angle from the east, shed light on her face, illuminated her collarbones and the peak of her nose. Rivulets of sweat ran down the frame of her face. Cheeks flushed with the heat; skin cinnamoned under daylight. Her long, black hair in a low, messy bun smelled like coconut oil and dead flowers. Loose strands hung behind her ears, with baby hair sticking to the sweat on her cheeks. The rolls of her stomach and the gap between her thighs dampened under the heat. Downturned eyes with fierce, coal irises searched for something far off in the distance; much farther out of her reach. The kajal on her waterline dammed the tears that formed in this loneliness.

that’s it for today, but i’ll be back real soon with the next update because i’ve got a really fun chapter to share, so be on the lookout for that. i hope you enjoyed reading my novel excerpts today. please send me all the writer energy you can so that i can finish this baby off real soon and (maybe) start working on something new (oopsies)

– ann.

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@shaonharryandpannisim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorzofija @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @rowansghost @ambidextrousarcher @duckiewrites @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites

[secondjulia]

The Last

OH can we reshare our own stuff now?! Because I literally just realized it is the Exact One Year Anniversary of my FIRST SANDMAN FIC EVER! And it came with a pic 💔

Rated: G Warnings: Major character death (But, like... in a good way?) Ao3 link

The stupid thing was that Hob still wanted to live. 

His stomach had taken to tightening painfully. Tears, which had been so rare in his long life, tickled at his eyes as if they could sense that the dam would soon break. The physical sensation forced up memories of those rare times when the dam — when he — had broken. Half his village killed by plague. Poor, brawling Robyn dead in a tavern. Eleanor, who never got to see a time or place where childbirth was safe. And the poor, nameless child who got not even the tiniest fraction of the long life Hob had lived.

All were long dust. 

Hob wondered if their atoms had broken down so wholly by now that they’d eroded into the air, gone into the breath of the world, or been sucked into green, growing things, become leaves that fell in autumn, then dried and crumbled into more soil, more dust on the air. 

Probably. It had been so long. They were everything now. 

Most people were everything now. 

“Some rabbit, my lord?”

Hob smiled, and the impatient tears retreated. “Not your lord.” 

He took the meat. The ancient, wrinkled hand that had given it to him rested against his cheek. The woman’s other hand made a gesture, palm against her chest in the vague shape of a cross, a symbol whose roots were almost totally lost to her age. Then she patted the rough whiskers on Hob’s jaw. His hair had grown thick and wild again, and only offering slight protection from the mosquitos. After centuries of shaving in conformity with grooming trends — smooth chins one decade, carefully shaped goatees the next, clipped beards and mustache trends requiring various levels of upkeep going round and round like a carousel — there was something oddly satisfying about reverting to his natural state. As he sat beside the fire in rags, wiping charred rabbit drippings out of his beard, it felt almost like he’d come full circle. A medieval peasant back on campaign, nestling close to the brief comforts of fire and friendship, putting off humanity’s horrors.

“I know my eyes are half blind,” the old woman said as she sat down beside Hob. Her speech was a lovely, woven thing; after thousands of years, its threads were barely recognizable as the descendant of his own mother tongue. “But I see you, my lord. Looking today the same as yesterday — and every yesterday. Young as ever.” She looked sideways at him, her cloud-white hair catching the golden light of the fire, lips pulled up in the tiniest of knowing smiles. “Eternal, as they say.”

“It’s just the firelight, love. Flattering as it always is. You look just like you did when I first tumbled from the forest and into your arms.”

The tiny smile broke into a laugh. She sank her teeth into a hunk of rabbit, then shook her head, grinning. “Lying’s a sin, my lord.”

“No lie.” Hob kissed her temple.

“Respectfully, if you’re here to save us, you might want to get a move on.” She coughed, a chopped, dry sound that had chased her for years now.

Hob rubbed her back. A silent ache swelled in his own chest. She was so young — a tiny spark of eighty or ninety years. It was hard to tell exactly. There were no calendars at the end of the world. 

No. That was the wrong way of thinking about it, of course. The end of the world. The world was thriving. Coyotes had reached all around the Hudson Bay for Christ’s sake! Their screeching howls punctured the night. Mosquito clouds had blown clear up to the North Pole, though thankfully the modified, disease-resistant ones had beaten out the old species. Thank god for ancient technology.

The world wasn’t ending by a long shot. 

It was just people who were ending. 

Everybody except Hob.

The woman beside him let her hands fall into her lap, the hunk of rabbit forgotten for a moment as she worked against her ragged breath. 

Her name was Mina. They had been lovers once. Ages ago, before the world had tired her, and the void at the end had loomed so heavily over Hob. 

As everything went to shit and humanity moved like a great tidal wave and then crashed and petered out, Hob had done what he’d always done: survived.

He tried fighting. For a while, with everything in chaos, there was plenty of soldiering and mercenary work to go ‘round. He tried not to care. It was the trade he’d been raised to, after all. He’d spent his formative years — and a century besides — fighting poor blokes who’d just wanted to live as much as he did. He’d never really had anything against the French or the Yorkists or the Lancastrians. All he’d had was a sword in his hand and some asshole telling him who should die that day.

It was bullshit, and Hob knew it. He’d known it then, too. Death was stupid, and it was stupid to rush it upon everyone with endless power struggles and redrawn maps. 

So he’d given wide berths to the battle zones. He bounced around making his way into increasingly insular bands as humanity dwindled. It wasn’t always awful. Hob had to admit that, especially in the early days of the fall, he’d had an easier time than most. Experience as a medieval peasant was useful in the end times. He’d never been a craftsman or farmer, but he knew how to use his hands and make do and walk for ever and ever.

And he knew how to move on before suspicion could fall too heavily upon his unchanging head. A new generation of witchcraft accusations had sprung up as they tended to do in times of upheaval. Sometimes people swapped in words like alien for witch or conspiracy for magic. Once, he ran headlong into a very confusing lizard hysteria; Hob still didn’t understand that one. 

But it was all the same. Fear and suspicion and bloodshed.

And hunger. More than once, that deep gnawing hunger had found him again. Starvation so profound that the pain alone would have killed him if he’d let it.

Hob wandered what felt like every continent, seeing fewer and fewer people and more and more stupid death. Death of every variety imaginable. Fire. Flood. War. Disease. Famine. Drought. 

The last people were shockingly gentle. By the time Hob had stumbled out of some chokingly overgrown boreal forest and into their camp, he didn’t have the strength to fight or flee even if they’d been monsters. But Mina, leader of a couple dozen peaceful wanderers, had taken him in and shared their modest home and let him tag along as they followed the food or fled disaster.

Of course, even amid the kindness and generosity of his latest found family, there was tragedy. Child mortality had soared as the world crumbled. The last two children of Mina’s people had died a few years after Hob’s arrival when a cave shelter had collapsed. Hob had marveled at how such an old pain could burn so fresh and white hot. Disease had come home, too, and eventually it became apparent that no new children were going to be born. 

Over the decades that he’d called this place home, Hob had travelled alone, too. He had taken to wandering far and wide, looking for other settlements, other roving bands of the species. But by then, even word of others had disappeared. He never found another living group.

And so as the people around him grew old and sickened and fell to the cornucopia of threats Earth holds specially for humans, and Hob remained. 

The gentle people never did call him a witch, though at some point someone had started a rumor that he was an ancient god returned to the world in its final days. No one could agree on which one. Only bits and pieces of the old religions had survived, and nobody knew their stories well enough to settle the debate.

“G’night, my lord.” 

The last woman alive closed her cataract-clouded eyes and leaned against his shoulder. Hob smiled into her hair and put an arm around her. He let the last scrap of companionship and the golden glow of the fire comfort him. All in all, though it’d had its horrors and sorrows, the very end of humanity wasn’t particularly painful. 

It was the day after that Hob feared.

He gently carried Mina to a rough blanket and lay down beside her. As he listened to the raggedy breathing, puffs of green began to dance in the sky. Before he had come to the foolishly named New World, Hob had never seen the northern lights. He’d stayed away from the poles for most of his time on Earth; back when more of the planet was habitable, it seemed like the sound choice. But now watching the bright splashes overhead, he felt an ache in his chest, like a physical wish to have spent millennia like this, bathed in this kind of beauty.

Mina’s people had stories about them — god’s tears, was it? Or gods’ tears? Even knowing they were just solar wind particles, Hob thought they were godly. 

After watching the painted sky for a long time, Hob realized that the labored breath beside him had gone silent. 

It was a silence that swallowed the world. 

Coyote’s screeched and the vibrant night buzzed all around him — louder even than when he’d been a child. But none of it touched the silence that had fallen on Mina. 

An abyss cracked open inside Hob. 

He had never feared anything so much as he feared the empty world. After all, it had never been that he was afraid of death, it was just that wanted so badly to live. To have experiences, to drink and fuck and make friends and—

And all was now dust or soon would be.

Hob waited some time until Mina had stiffened and gone cold and he knew for sure that he was alone. And then he dug a grave as dawn was just blazing over the horizon, washing out his own wavering fire. 

When it was done, he dropped his shovel and sank to the ground. The abyss yawned wide, and a paralyzing emptiness reared up and took him. His mind went blank. His body stilled. The train of thought that had hurtled him through the ages now drove him into oblivion.

“She died in peace.” 

The deep voice rumbled through the breaking dawn like the voice of Earth itself.

Hob raised his heavy head.

“My friend…” Hob’s own words were a broken, aching pain. He looked at the perfect face cut of marble, wreathed in shadow. The one intermittent pulse of his life, counting out the centuries, salving the loneliness. “My stranger.”

“She left the world, in a dream of something she had only ever heard of in Stories,” his stranger said, his eyes skating over the rough grave and the haphazard cross Hob had tied together for no one to see. “A thing she had always wanted to see: snow.”

Even in the presence of his beautiful stranger, Hob’s heart twinged painfully.

“It was, perhaps, not quite the weather phenomenon you would have recognized,” his friend continued, “but it was a sight to behold nonetheless. Maybe even more lovely for its coming out of fantasy. I admit, I enjoyed the sight after an age without it.”

And yet you could not save any of it. Mina. Snow. Earth.

Only me.

Hob hung his head, a deep feeling of unworthiness rushing into the void in his heart. What right had he to outlive it all? Hob had often marveled at his sheer dumb luck, the absolute mockery of fairness that was this universe where he, a drunk braggart, got to keep living through no talent or effort of his own. But here, finally, at the feet of his beautiful stranger at the end of everything, the magnitude of it crushed him. 

It had been millennia since Hob had prayed, and never to this, his one true patron. He had long learned that his stranger could or would not stop the horrors of the world. There were rules, Hob knew, though he did not know what those rules were. But now, for the first time in a long time, he felt a wild, stupid urge to beg. To pray as fervently as any obsessed ascetic or flagellant for salvation for a world that deserved it more than he did.

But reality pressed too hard in around him. The finality of humanity had slammed down with a force he couldn’t fight.

A question hung between them. 

The man like ice and shadow looked down at Hob with gentleness bordering on pity. For a heartbeat, his lips moved slightly, silently, and Hob could feel his stranger’s reluctance to speak the words, to twist the pain in Hob’s chest. 

But speak he did.

“Do you still wish to live?”

And Hob answered honestly as he always had, a stupid answer, “Well, kinda yeah,” He tried to grin at the that dumb spark of resistance that had persisted through centuries of tumult, through war and witch trials and civilization and chaos. But his words wavered as if tears were pressing in on them, begging to wash away the last of his hardheaded resistance to the inevitable. “But… that’s not really the thing to do now, is it?”

“The choice is yours,” his stranger said simply, letting the words rest between them as they always had. No force, no judgement, no advice. 

Hob sniffed. “Everybody’s gone?”

“They are.”

He’d had to check. In the hours since Mina’s breath had gone silent, a part of Hob had wanted to walk over the entire Earth, just to make sure. There were, of course, no televisions, no phones, no internet. Not even telegraphs. Nobody born in the last thousand years had ever spoken to someone out of range of a human voice. And yet that stupid spark in him had flared ever so slightly at the prospect of plodding across the whole of the Earth’s crust, seeking — as he had always done — for life.

Hob’s head sunk deeper toward his chest. Tears that had been long trapped fell freely. He was at this point, he thought, entitled to a moment’s self pity. He’d fought through a lot over the years, he could let himself have a spot of despair. 

He wiped his cheeks with one hand and raised his head. The sun had risen fully now, and when Hob looked around, he realized that the ragged, grassy stead he’d shared with Mina last night wasn’t quite the same. Instead, it was a lush green meadow with butterflies alighting on a rainbow of flowers, singing birds flitting overhead, and the gently shush of water flowing in the distance.  

“Where’s Mina?” Hob asked.

“She has gone to the afterlife of her people,” his stranger said. 

“Oh, that place.”

“Do you wish to follow?”

Hob hesitated then shook his head. He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He’d never wanted any afterlife, just life and life and more life.

The question still filled the air.

“I guess it’s time, isn’t it?” Hob said. “Whatever comes next… Wherever I go…” A thrill of fear sprouted in his gut. “It’s time.” 

“You could stay here,” his stranger said quietly, almost shyly. 

“You’re sticking around then, are you? In this…” Hob looked around at the world that had sprung to life around him, his lord’s world, and he had no other word for it. “…heaven?”

“This is the Dreaming. And there are more creatures than humans that dream. More worlds than Earth where dreamers lie.”

“Any where I’d fit in?” Hob asked hopefully.

“None that could sustain a human body,” his stranger said. “You would be suffocating continuously on atmosphere that burned you with every breath. Or watching your skin slough off under radiation too severe for any species of Earth to endure. Or walking on ground that charred your feet to the bone with every step.”

“Oh. Right then.” Hob shivered at the horrific images. (And the tiniest, fading part of him still wanted to see it all.)

“But my duties are not even close to over. My land extends to all worlds where creatures dream. If you forsake your body, I could show you things you never imagined. Carnivorous flowers with beautiful minds. Palaces built by stars. And the delightful parties thrown by the stars themselves.”

Hob sniffed again. He wiped the last of the tears from his face. “Well. That sounds like an adventure.”

And then came a sight so rare that Hob had missed it more than the gentle dusting of snow at Christmas or the internet or London or human civilization itself: his stranger smiled.

“I am glad to hear it,” his stranger said. “And so, please, Hob Gadling, let me first introduce my sister.”

A woman walked across the lush meadow. She was dressed all in black, and her feet were bare. 

Hob knew her face immediately. First a memory flashed — an age-old image of a smiling face in a smoky tavern, a pair of kind eyes across the room from his stranger’s own icy, amused gaze and mocking words. Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying? 

But no, it was more than that. A deep recognition, like some eternal chord had been struck, and it radiated through him back to the beginning. Here was a great friend he had been parted from for far, far too long — and yet also a power so vast and deep that it dwarfed even the lifespan of humanity.

He had been about to rise. But now he stopped, struck still by awe and recognition. “My lady.”

“Hob.” The woman greeted him with the kindest smile he’d ever seen. Greeted him as if they were indeed the oldest and fastest of friends, going back even before his stranger walked into his life.

She held her hands out and Hob took them without hesitation, letting her guide him to his feet as his stranger came to his other side. Something pinched in Hob’s chest, and he crumpled slightly. But the soft hands of Death and the cool hands of Dream were on him, and he straightened as if a weight had fallen away.

“You’re alright,” Death said. “You’re alright now.”

“As you always will be,” said Dream, “from now on. Now, Hob Gadling, let us see the universe.”

[pcttrailsidereader]

10 Things Scarier Than Bears

This is an excerpt from the Halfway Anywhere website, a wonderful resource on hiking the PCT and other trails around the world. See www.halfwayanywhere.com. I have my own list which differs from the one below. "Humans on roads near the PCT" would top my list. Some might add 'Poodle Dog Bush'. Others would include 'running out of water' or 'lightning above treeline.'

1) BITING FLIES

Yes, flies that bite you. They are awful. In the desert I dealt with flies of the non-biting variety, but once I reached the Kennedy Meadows, everything changed. You will come to know (and loathe) one particular species of biting fly in particular. They are known simply as: “those stupid fucking huge golden flies”. These bastards will bite you, and it will hurt, and you will whine, and nobody will care (didn’t anyone tell you that the Pacific Crest Trail sucks?). And for those of you who enjoy cowboy camping, prepare for some rude awakenings.

Improvised headnet

2) GNATS

Mosquitos are pesky at camp and whilst resting, but the good thing about mosquitos is that you can hike more quickly than they can fly. Gnats are another story. For some reason they enjoy flying directly in front of your face, and no matter what you do (even if you run – trust me, I tried – multiple times) they will catch up to you. Not only do they pester you when hiking, but they will fly into your nose, eyes, ears, and mouth (basically any moist, accessible orifice). If you haven’t already, I highly recommend investing in a bug net for your head (and I suggest keeping it handy for the entirety of the trail (at least post-Kennedy Meadows)).“They will harm you and everyone you care about.”

3) THE PLAGUE (AND HANTAVIRUS)

Yes, both hantavirus the horrific bubonic plague await hikers out in the wilds on the PCT. Those “cute” little animals that rob your unattended food are carriers hantavirus and of fleas which are in turn carriers of and the plague. Should one of these critters get into your food, I would suggest (based on zero medical background or experience whatsoever) that you avoid eating it (kill and eat that little bastard instead). Symptoms of plague include, “swollen, tender lymph glands (called buboes) and fever, headache, chills, and weakness,” and hantavirus, “has a mortality rate of 38%” (CDC). But hey, at least it’s not giardia.

4) THE PCT MIDPOINT

Before reaching the PCT Midpoint, you may imagine it as a place of celebration and much rejoicing. However, in reality the halfway point of the 2,600 mile long trail is simply a reminder of how far you still need to go before reaching your destination. Located in a not-too-interesting section of trail, hikers who make it this far into the hike are greeted by a simple concrete post (and then the town of Chester, California). The idea that you still need to go as far as you have already come is too much for some hikers as the mental struggle eclipses its physical counterpart (luckily, there is a nearby cliff for you to throw yourself off of).

5) SCREAMING ANIMALS IN THE NIGHT

Here is something else to frighten you in the night: screaming animals (at least I hope they’re animals). Now you may say, “Hey! Don’t bears fall into this category?” No, you’re wrong, bears are stealthy and silent. The animals that make these noises are nothing short of pure evil. They produce noises that you never knew existed and that you’ll never want to hear again whilst trying to sleep.

6) BLISTERS

You know ahead of time that blisters will be an issue on the trail, but it is easy to underestimate just how great a threat they are. I knew many hikers who abandoned the PCT as a result of their feet falling apart. I knew none who did the same as a result of bears (likely because they were eaten and I never saw them again). Blisters are frightening. That hot spot in your shoe quickly translates to pain and (juicy) popping at the end of the day (and many subsequent days). My advice for blisters? Carry a safety-pin and get yourself some Darn Toughs.

7) EMPTY CACHES

Many a kind trail angel maintains many a water cache along the Pacific Crest Trail. Hikers can go for as long as 30 mi (48 km) without encountering a natural water source (sometimes longer, depending on the year), and so these caches of life’s elixir become incredibly important. Despite every hiker being told to never rely on a water cache, some choose to ignore this advice and end up in serious (sometimes life-threatening) trouble. Less serious, but just as demoralizing, is the empty trail magic cache. This is when you show up at a cooler on the trail, knowing it to be filled with goodies, and open it to find only trash and melted ice. It is as sad as seeing a puppy drown (I know, I’ve witnessed both).

8) BISPHENOL A (BPA)

Speaking of caches, do you know what 90% of the water caches are composed of? Plastic bottles baking in the sun (if you’re lucky you will find a cooler or nicely shaded trove of water). The FDA is currently reviewing the potential for BPA to cause harm in humans, and the CDC states, “[m]ore research is needed to understand the human health effects of exposure to BPA.” Yet, as per usual, many of you tree-hugging, soy-eating, animal-loving, liberal-do-good hippies out there have already drawn your own conclusions and have somehow convinced the world that BPA is evil and that it should be banned. Why can’t you just allow our corporations, who hold consumer health and opinion in the highest regard, to do as they wish and put whatever chemicals they desire into their products?

9) HUNTERS

At some point whilst hiking through Oregon, (northbound) thru-hikers will observe the beginning of hunting season. First it’s the bow hunters, and then a (few) week(s?) later it’s time to bring out the big guns (literally). In certain areas, the sound of gunshots ringing through the mountains can be heard throughout the day. Hunters are fond of telling hikers to wear blaze orange, and I am fond of telling hunters to just not shoot people. In retaliation for the gunshot threats, I frequently found myself hiking up behind and scaring the daylights out of hunters as they slowly stalked invisible prey through the bush (walking up on someone sneaking is quite amusing).

10) POOPING

Yes, the act of pooping in the woods can be an incredibly frightening prospect at times, but when nature calls, you have to answer. Sometimes this call comes in the midst of a swarm of mosquitoes s or pack of biting flies; sometimes it comes in the middle of a long, flat, open stretch of trail. Whether you are fighting to keep bugs out of your ass, or attempting to complete your bowel movement in record time to avoid being seen by another hiker, pooping can be a terrifying time a day. If you simply accept that you will get bitten on your genitals by insects and that you will be seen squatting over a hole by your fellow hikers, then it will make your hike far more enjoyable.

[musings-from-an-elder-goth]

What It's Like Being a Goth in Florida

From time to time, folks who hail from colder climes will message me offering pity for the poor darkling stranded in The Sunshine State, or to simply inquire as to what herculean efforts I must undertake to avoid being burned to a crisp. These concerns are entirely fair and understandable - even I would never have guessed that a goth could survive in Florida prior to relocating here. I assumed my world was about to become profoundly limited and that I'd be the only shadow scurrying about in a futile attempt to dodge the sun, heat, and humidity. So, without further ado, here's something of a Goth Survival Guide to Florida. (Abridged edition.)

Sun & heat. Yes, those are a powerful pair of adversaries for any who dress the dark, especially in more southerly locals such as La Pascua de la Florida. First, you have to understand that most folks who live here have adapted to the heat and humidity to some degree - some quite a bit, others less so, but all of us more than someone visiting for a week from, say, Toronto. So the heat a northerner feels is much worse than the heat we feel (for example, I'm perfectly comfortable at 80 degree Fahrenheit, as long as I'm not in direct sunlight). Nevertheless, even those goths born here don't generally go outside during the day in the summer. However, it cools down quite a bit at night, and that's when you'll see us out and about. During the day, air conditioning is your bestie. Your home, car, and work will all have it and it will be blasting. We dash from one AC source to another during those dog days of summer, but that's just how it is here. I used to live in Minnesota and my life there was reversed - I'd stay inside all winter - so, pick your poison.

The beach. Yes, folks will try to get you to go to the beach. My advice? Spit in your hand and slap them. Kidding! I just say, "No, thanks," and tell them that the beach just isn't my thing. Which it isn't, so not even lying - I'm more of a forest kind of person. I've come across goths that like the beach at night, which is understandable. The temperature cools significantly once the sun sets and those pesky crowds also clear away. Perfect time for a small gathering around a little fire. Few drinks, good conversation, perhaps a ghost story or two. Not too bad, actually.

Clothing. Do I mostly wear black? Yup. Even in summer? Yup. The trick is to wear lightweight fabrics. Again, I'd never subject myself to the daylight during August, but once the sun sets, it gets much nicer. Goth gals still look lovely in light, breezy, black summer dresses and goth guys still look sharp in light black slacks and t-shirt. No one needs to break a sweat. Now, if you have to go out during the day in the summer, which sometimes just can't be avoided (graveyard photo shoot), be sure to wear a wide brimmed hat, slather on the SPF 100 sunblock, drink plenty of water, and try to stay in the shade. Personally, I've reached the point where nothing - absolutely nothing - drags me out of the AC in the summer during the day. Funeral for a friend? I'll send my condolences regarding his death. My co-workers wedding? I'll send my condolences regarding his death.

Critters. 'Aren't mosquitos attracted to dark colors?' Yup. 'So...aren't you plagued by mosquitos?' Oddly, no. 'What about poison ivy? What about Florida Man? Don't you live in terror of The Florida Man? And Skunk apes? And gators?' The flora and fauna hazards of Florida have been much less of an issue than the media had lead me to believe. Mosquitos certainly thrive here and I do get stabbed by one from time to time, but no more so than in other states I've called home. In fact, alligators, poison ivy, Florida Man, alien abductions, and skunk apes have all had minimal impact on my life here. I didn't say zero - just minimal.

Harassment from non-goths, i.e. The Normies. I genuinely thought I'd never see another darkly inclined person again when moving to Florida, but I was pleasantly surprised that not only are there goths here, but there are many goths here. One benefit of a large goth population is that the normies are accustomed to seeing us. They may not understand us, but at least they're used to us being part of the landscape. Thus, I've never been harassed or even lightly teased about being goth here in Florida. People don't even stare. I think they view it as just another character aspect, like being a sports fan or a serial killer. Additionally, many normies here are remarkably well informed about local goth culture. They usually know about the local goth clubs & sometimes about local goth bands. Many of them have even gone to the local goth clubs - for sure as a novelty lark - but they usually say they had a great time and would love to go again. Refreshingly different attitude from the people in some other places I've been.

Goth activities. "Do goth bands even play in Florida?" Wow, do they ever! I legit go to more shows here than even when I lived in LA. Bands playing for the first time here always say they're surprised at the large number of enthusiastic folks at the show and bands frequently return year after year, so as far as live music goes, we have an embarrassment of riches. If there's no live music going on, you can always head to a goth club for music and dancing on the weekend. Plus, there are various non-music events that usually interest most goths like horror conventions, vampire balls, oddity markets, etc. Just a couple weeks ago, I had to decide if I'd go to the Florida Bat Festival or a horror convention, so sometimes there just isn't enough time to do everything you'd like to and you have to pick and choose. (I went with the horror convention.)

So as you can see, no need to worry about the poor goths under the pitiless, Florida sun. We're managing quite well, actually. Because even in The Sunshine State, the sun does still set.

And the night belongs to us. 🦇🖤🦇

creaturesfromelsewhere 11-3-2022

[drbarty]

*Skitters up to the step, but not alone. This time, she has a rope tied around her tiny furry waist to the again-drunk plague doctor rat. Apparently, from how the rat had just let itself get dragged while pouting, this was the consequence to a threat the rat did not consider. Placing a shiny piece of amber with a mosquito in it on the step and happily accepts the sparkling cider, waves at the Doctor, and then skitters off into the night, dragging her irate yet drunk friend.*

Oh goodness! How nice to see you both! Hope you stay safe this festive holiday season! Thank you for the amber, what a pretty little treasure! The months ahead will be cold and long - I am no talent at sewing myself, but I have a nice little stack of colorful fabric swatches, perhaps you two would be able to make use of them for some winter garments or blankets? *sets them down neatly*

[frost-queen]

Dearest Gentle Frost-Queen and Frosties,

It is understandable to be intrigued by why I, Faithful Frostie, am up in the late hours of the night instead of surrendering myself in Morpheus’ embrace to enter the realm of dreams. You shall know that for the past three days a serial biter, known by the name Mosquito, has been relentlessly plaguing within my very own chambers. This unwanted intrusion has caused me considerable discomfort and inconvenience. He has been indulging in his habit of inflicting physical harm upon me within the confines of my own abode. As for that, I was seeking immediate resolution to this alarming situation. And so, as the matter of a successful assassination attempt on his life was set to finally end my suffering from his bites once and for all, it came to light that there were not one, but two assailants involved in the matter. A diabolical twist, indeed. Following our many ordeals in tracking down the perpetrator, he was finally located. However, according to the accounts of several witnesses, he has since left the main quarters of our residence and seems to have gone elsewhere. Does this mean calm and tranquillity have returned to our small town, or is it merely the calm before the storm? Judging by what the goddess Wikipedia states, a female mosquito has a lifespan of up to a week. So I shall let myself pass the message to our buzzing mischief. You may have escaped the day of your judgement, as for now. But should you know, I shall be waiting. So fly high, little biter. Your days are counted.

Yours truly,

Frostie

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

Brava my dearest, brava. Such an intriguikg poem about mosquitoes. I can truly feel your emotions from up here. I hope your plague has been stilled. That Morpheus king of dreams and nightmares has welcomed you in his lands. Filled with snippets of dreamsand and where imagination has no limitations. I hope you got to wander Fidler's Green in it's full glory. That you got to go through the library and pick one of your choosing. Gone with the bloody insect. For thy shall not hurt again. May this be a fair warning to thou. Hunter, my assassin I pray you may never need to pick up your sword again, but I fear you can never bury it away. Keep it close, close. For when the night strikes again. Be watchful of the buzzing.