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rainbowchewynuggets · 7 months

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IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE

I've been grinding away at this for months. I can't wait for people to see it. This project turned out to have a lot of gears behind it, so check out the artist statement below!

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I love this song. The first time I heard it, I already began picturing a story where a woman stumbled upon a gathering of birds in the forest and became so enthralled by their song that she partied with them until she became a bird, herself. It turns out that isn’t too far off from the singer, Yma Sumac’s, first experiences learning to sing. She would imitate the animals near her home in the hills of the Andes mountains as a very young kid, developing a vocal range that would make her famous later on.

From there, I fell into a montage of research on her life and the Peruvian festival music that defined her early career, as well as the complicated story of the exotica music she became most known for in the United States. I followed that up with a month-long dive into northwest Peruvian culture, mythology, ornithology, flora, and topographical studies. Then, I blacked out somewhere during the drawing phase, and now I’m here.

While I really value what I’ve learned while doing this project, I think it’s important to note that I did it all as an amateur researcher and a foreigner to the subject. I decided it would be a little conceited to try to make a totally accurate depiction of a traditional Peruvian festival, so I instead focused on referencing the regional variation of these traditions. Costumes and music have their own specific designs and textures depending on the area, and dances and festivities reflect local history. Yet, it all shares the same themes of celebrating prosperity and surviving hardship. Common motifs and characters reflect a shared heritage and cultural identity that coexists with individuality. It’s all just very cool to me.

So I asked myself, what if these birds had their own version of these traditions? What would a bird sing a folk song about? What would be new and cool to Yma, but still familiar enough that she could join in? (I got lucky, since Peruvian festival culture is already very reverent of birds and feather patterns.)

What I ended up with pulled a lot from the Carnaval de Cajamarca, which originated in the next town over from Yma’s childhood home of Ichocán. It also references these dances, among others:

Huaylarsh - Los Emplumados - Marinera - Tondero - White Dance / Los Chunchos

It’s also important to know that I took a lot of creative liberties with my research to pull the story together. I hope I haven’t used any elements in a harmful or insensitive way–and if I have, I’d like to know so that I can apologize. (I also missed out on some cool stuff, like the White Dance always having shaker beads on the legs.) I highly encourage you to have a look at some of the sources I did, and to look further if you’re interested. I found it all very enlightening, and I hope you will too.

Yma’s wikipedia, which seems like a mostly accurate overview based on other sources

Her official website, curated by a fan and friend

A segment on NPR about her musical career

The interview I got the opening from

The ornithology archive that saved my ass

I’d like to work on uploading all the frames as an image reel somewhere so they can be looked at individually. Might take a while, though.

Thanks for watching!

(To those using a screen reader, the video description follows this message. I'd like to apologize for putting the description as the last thing on the post. Not only is it extremely long, but this seemed to be the rare instance where the description would benefit from the context of the post's commentary before being read itself. I wrote and formatted this description in a way that I hoped would apply to aid various disabilities that impede enjoying music videos, and I am very interested in getting feedback.)

DESCRIPTION

[The following is presented as an animatic (a series of still images edited into a video) set to music. The art is drawn with condensed yet fuzzy pastel-like linework and full color. The song used is “Chuncho” by Yma Sumac. The song was composed to imitate the various sounds of tropical birds and animals. It has no lyrics, at least in a traditional sense. I, the describer, have tried my best to translate the especially abstract nature of this song into language that can be interpreted through text. Please use the best of your imagination to fill in the rest. An audio description will always refer to the visual description that follows it.

Audio: A male interviewer asks, “Since you are referred to the bird who became a woman in your native Peru, Ms. Sumac, may we hear your exotic voice?”

Visuals: A title card appears with gold lettering on a black background. It reads one word: Chuncho. The word is depicted as if it were carved into a flat surface with loose individual strokes.

Audio: A woman answers, “I will try to imitate the birds, as I did in my earliest years in the mountains of Peru.”

Visuals: Credits appear, also in gold text: Sung by Yma Sumac (Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chàvarri del Castillo. Drawn by Carlie Hughes (rainbowchewynuggets).

Audio: The music begins with the steady four-note strumming of a guitar, which will continue throughout the song. Then, it is accompanied by low ragged notes from a heavy woodwind instrument.

Visuals: A green cicada flicks its wings as it rests on a plant with jagged leaves and a little white flower growing from the middle. Beetles of green, red, and yellow crawl around on trees and ferns among puffy yellow blooms. Yellow humpback beetles huddle together on a cold stone surface as mothlike butterflies cling to hanging purple-grey moss in the background. A cluster of butterflies of black, green, blue, orange, purple, and red flare their wings along stems and vines. A line of spiny cocoons hang from a vine leading up the center of the group.

Audio: A vocalist, the same woman as before, begins to sing in vocables. Her first notes are short, round, and bubbly, like the chirping of a small bird. The lilt of a flute follows.

(“B-bm, bui-bui-buiii…”)

Visuals: A small village sits on the side of a forested and scrub-covered mountain at night. Buildings twinkle with yellow and blue window light through the darkness. At the edge of the forest, a tall lean woman appears with warm orange skin, long black hair, a simple green dress cinched at the waist with blue trim on the neck, hem, wrist, and waist, and a powder blue shawl tied at the chest. She sneaks away from the village into the temperate tropical forest, glancing back to make sure hasn’t been followed. She grows more at ease as she leaves the buildings behind and strides between bushes, deeper into the trees. She passes a flowering plant with orange petals. Its bulbs are held aloft on long, long stems.

Audio: The vocalist sings in elongated threads of notes, wavering in a minor key in a mischievous way.

(“Whu, hu-uuuu…”)

Visuals: The woman grazes her fingers along a bush with little black berries and white spiky flowers. Her hand passes up and down with the shape of the bush, like the rise and fall of an ocean wave. She walks uphill, past pink clover and increasingly frequent stones.

Audio: The vocalist clicks and rolls her tongue with her notes, like drops of water splashing across stones.

(“Dlu, dlu-dlu-dlu-dlu-buiii…”)

Visuals: A voice suddenly gets her attention. The voice passes by as a green line with wide wave forms. The woman follows it. She passes through a stone forest–dense moss-covered rock formations that reach up toward the sky. The ground below is streaked with snake trails. The line of song is now yellow. It leads her forward along a trail through the rocks. She climbs a more precarious formation of boulders, through dense shrubbery and a dramatic rocky landscape. As the voice shifts redder, her colors shift pinker. Even the environment’s colors are shifting to pinks and blues. She climbs a hill, past tall spindly trees and a nearly vertical mountainside. The pink line of song leads her still upward.

Audio: The vocalist belts out the deep throaty call of a tropical bird trying to be heard far and wide. The notes increase in frequency, then widen into a whoop that softens to a murmur. The flute follows her with a few short forceful notes.

(“Ah, bya bya bya-bya-bya-bya-bya-byaaa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-wi, wa-wa-wa wiii…”)

Visuals: When the woman reaches the top of the hill, a light shines up at her from the other side, returning her original colors. Below, she sees a gathering of human-sized bird people celebrating on a leafy platform. They’re dancing in different sized circles around a tree at the center. Rainbow colored ribbons of different lengths have been tied to the branches of the tree and hang down to form the silhouette of a condor. More ribbons and colorful bulbs hang from the leaves above. The line of song (now light blue) travels in a circle around the tree trunk. The camera zooms in, revealing details of the birds and their costumes. The birds are pigeons, hawks, cuckoos, seedbirds, and corvids. They’re all dressed in colorful hats, vests, slacks, and dresses with patterns that reflect those of their feathers. A circle of spotted woodpeckers closest to the trunk wear purple gowns and party hats. The party’s singing expands the blue circle of light. A wider circle of yellow, green, and white birds sit and watch the celebration from the edges of the platform. As a line of bright manakin birds zip by with their hands clasped together, the woman approaches from a nearby branch. She’s enticed by the party and joins the dance, clasping hands with a green parrot and leading the line with a broad smile on her face.

Audio: The vocalist makes a quick sudden series of escalating notes, then makes a hard sound with her teeth and returns to a low whoop. The flute echoes her.

(Ba-bana-baba-cht!, waw waw waw waw waw waw waw wiii…”)

Visuals: The birds switch to individual dances. A short red woodpecker and a tan long-necked bird with ribbons in her hair dance and sing together, their lines of song intertwining. The woman and three pigeons in red and black dresses stomp their heels in a quartet dance. She follows their steps flawlessly, familiar with the type of dance. When they begin to sing and whistle, she joins them–though her voice isn’t as strong as theirs and her line of song is thin and brittle.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low growl, at first imperceptible, that grows to a steady rumble. The flute follows.

(“Rhhh…, rhh, rhh rhhh…”)

Visuals: Then, the lights darken and redden. The woman stops to notice all the other birds heading to the back of the platform. They climb and flutter up to sit in fruit-bearing branches that grow just beyond. The woman finds herself a spot and picks a piece of fruit to eat. She takes a bite as a show begins. A band of various birds wearing ponchos and cloth hats sit down by the show platform. They play their instruments (flute, guitars and a drum) and count in the performance.

Audio: The vocalist makes more short bubbly chirps. They grow higher in small strings of notes until the phrase ends with a low long note.

(“Bom-bom, t-bom-bom-bom, mbom-bom wiii…”)

Visuals: Five owls appear, bathed in magenta spotlight before the center tree trunk. All of them have their yellow-spotted wings wrapped to mostly cover their black and gold-trimmed dresses. The four owls on the sides are short and red, while the one in the center is tall and bright purple. As all five begin to sing a golden song, they operatically open their wings and extend their feathers. As the light darkens to violet, the black and gold patterns in the folds of their wings leap out as if exposed to blacklight. They extend their arms upward and then double over to kneel on the stage, fully splaying their wings in a dramatic display. The woman watching is transfixed.

Audio: The vocalist rolls a noise from the back of her throat. Once, twice, three times–before hitching the roll up and down and letting it trail off. The flute makes a low hollow arc of a note.

(“Ghhh, ghhh, ghh gh-gh-gheee…”)

Visuals: Cut to the next performance. Two teams of blackbirds with long waving feathers compete, standing on each other’s shoulders to form two pyramids. The one at the top of each team lunges forward to try to strike the other with a long stick, propelled by their team. Their feathers glow with yellow light from above. The team on the left—with orange vests and red sashes—strikes first, only nearly missing. They gloat as the lime vest and green sash team on the right recoils and protests. Then, it’s the green team’s turn to take a confident lunge, forcing the red to frantically pull back in time to dodge. On the next strike, the red team buries the stick in the top of the enemy pyramid (actually tucked under the green leader’s arm). The victim feigns a mortal wound, and the entire team flies away. The red team poses, victorious. The red leader gets down to the floor to greet the widow of the green team, wearing a green dress. She peers at him from behind a silky black wing. As soon as he lands, she whacks him over the head with her own concealed stick. He is surprised. She is unamused.

Audio: The vocalist lets out a ghostly wail that wavers wildly like an eerie wind, higher and higher. A shaker instrument rumbles beneath her voice.

(“Woaaa… woaaa… woaa–”)

Visuals: Next, it’s dark. Three colorful birds in masks and costumes tread the air at an angle on the left side of the screen against a blue and green background. There’s a yellow spiky one, representing lightning. A blue round-feathered one, representing rain. And a spade-feathered green one, representing trees. Long beaded threads tied to their wings and tails wave and tangle across the screen as a group of five hummingbirds in shades of red struggle to survive the “storm” raging around them. The colored ribbons of the central tree are muted and flutter with the power of the wind. Two other birds hug the trunk, nearly out of sight. There’s a prop on the floor to the right made to look like a stone alcove, where more hummingbirds are hiding. The storm bringer birds beat their wings hard, casting the strings of lightning, water, and leaf shaped beads in huge chaotic waves. The five hummingbirds in vests and dresses wince and tumble against the wind, flying together in a tight circle. The threads crisscross behind them, an overwhelming force on the tiny birds’ scale. A red line of song floats up to reach them, guiding them down to the nest.

Audio: When her wail is at its highest, the vocalist pushes it further into the voice of a shrill songbird. The note hangs high in the air, then takes a few steps down and up. The segment ends with the sudden interjection of the low round voice–as if in surprise–and a trailing mumble.

(“Haaa, aa-aa aa-aa aa-aa, hoa? Ah, bw-huh…”)

Visuals: Those in the stone nest finish singing and reunite with the others, pulling them down to safety. A blackbird hiding behind the trunk spreads its wings, sitting on the shoulders of a brown woodpecker. The blackbird’s vest and wingspan are covered in yellow, signaling the coming of daylight. The storm birds retreat and sit still on a nearby branch. The wind is suddenly gone.

Audio: The guitar plays alone.

Visuals: After the stage performances, the audience members move back to the platform. They’re gathered off to the far left side of the central tree trunk, standing in a circle around a single figure. The light of the gathering area is deep plum-purple in far off areas and warm dull pink over the crowd. The empty space around the single dancer is salmon red, and the figure herself is blue.

Audio: The vocalist perfectly mimics the sound of a flutter, of delicate waving in the wind.

(“W-w-w-w-w-w-w”)

Visuals: The camera zooms in on her hand as it flits a pink handkerchief in the air.

Audio: The vocalist belts a pair of bold staunch vocables. The second note is held for several seconds before fading out.

(“Kyen, kyen…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to reveal the rest of her. She’s a blue eagle with wings that grade from red at the arms to pink to blue at the wingtips in a wavy pattern. Her smiling beak is bright pink. Her dress is royal blue with reddish-pink trimmed ruffles on the hem of the skirt, waist frill, neck frill, and the flower decoration on the side of her head. She stands with the hem of her dress in one hand and the handkerchief extended in the other in an open invitation to dance. A pale pink spotlight frames her head and shoulders against the darkness, and a dark pink line of song passes behind her. Her partner, an eagle of the same coloration with a blue vest and pants, pink shirt, pale orange sash, a blue hat in one hand, and a pink hanky of his own raised in the other, is calling to her. He puts his hands behind his back and takes high steps toward her. When the two are close, they turn and walk parallel to each other in a slow circle. The male’s back is to his partner. He looks at her over his shoulder with a smile and abruptly splays his feathers to be cute. There’s a layer of pink under his outer coat. She grins, entertained.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the two vocables, twisting the end of the second up into a high wavering trill that eventually soothes and disappears.

(“Kyen, kye–eee, ee, eee, ee…”)

Visuals: The two turn to face each other, circling tighter and tighter in unified song until they’re face to face, looking deep into each other’s eyes. With another turn, they’ve passed by each other and out of sight.

Audio: The vocalist makes a whisper, a ghost of the two vocables. Then, a few quick whistles, barely loud enough to hear.

(“Hyo, hyo”)

Visuals: The woman, who has been captivated by the dance, suddenly notices that the crowd has dispersed around her. Partners are walking off in all directions, leaving her alone. The dance is over.

Audio: The guitar picks up, getting faster and louder for a bit.

Visuals: The woman walks alone in the blue night air along a tangle of tree branches that form a pathway. She walks with her hands behind her back, her face looking preoccupied and a little disappointed. Bushels of soft leaves pass by in the background.

Audio: A high, light pleasant note from the vocalist overtakes the guitar. It grows until it fills the soundscape.

(“Aaa…”)

Visuals: An orange song reaches her from the direction she came, and she stops. When she turns, she sees a blue swift standing on the branch path, far behind her in an opening in the trees. The underside of his feathers is dingy orange, and he’s wearing a black vest, white pants, a rusty red sash around his waist, a bright green kerchief around his neck, and an orange rectangular accessory tied around his neck like a necklace. His face is obscured by a white hat with an orange band. He bows low with a hand on the hat. The hat comes off, revealing inviting eyes and a smiling orange beak. The woman grins and accepts the invitation with determination.

Audio: The vocalist draws long high vocables that resemble a wail. They trail off with a low note.

(“Whoa whoaaa…”)

Visuals: She and the swift untie the fabric around their necks and step toward each other as the line of song forms a ring above them. The woman holds the ends of the shawl in her hands and her hands at her hips with the body of the shawl hanging behind her waist. The bird holds his kerchief out in one hand with the hat in the other, held behind his back. He takes measured winding steps along the branches. The woman mirrors his steps, then pushes off of the main path and lands on an outcropping branch.

Audio: The vocalist’s song wavers back up and demurely bobs up and down, intertwined with tweeting from the flute.

(“Hoa… ohee…”)

Visuals: Her voice, seafoam green and a little stronger than before, trails behind her. She darts back onto the main branch and ducks behind the bird, then circles around to face him, the two only a few feet apart. They exchange steps pushing the other forward and back and flicking their garments in time with their movements. The woman’s voice grows stronger, nearly matching his. The bird quickly catches up as she moves backward, dancing beside her. The two dancers then leap from the main branch and fall down into the rocky forest below, passing by grassy plateaus and vines creeping through stone. Their song follows all the way down. They leap across boulders in the moonlight, side by side. The swift suddenly stops and folds his kerchief around the center of the shawl, hitching the two together.

Audio: The vocalist belts a complex series of syllables that mimic the heavy majestic cawing of a large bird or hawk. The flute makes itself known a little as the voice fades out.

(“Hlau-lau-lau hau-au-wau-wa-wiii…”)

Visuals: The woman, at the receiving end of the momentum, is swung wide and lets out a vibrant complex line of song that could match any bird’s. The two pull closer to each other and end their song on a low steady note. Then, they bow to each other as the camera pulls back. They’re standing on a rock that rises above a basin of water among huge formations of rock. Pairs of birds dance all around them in the shallows.

Audio: The guitar takes over for a bit.

Visuals: The camera cuts to an upward view of a varied group of birds sitting in branches, staring downward with interest. The light from the moon coming down through a break in the trees above is now cool green. The light coming up from where the birds are looking is orange-red.

Audio: The vocalist lets out the aggressive growling of a cat.

(“U-wau, wau-wau-wau-wau”)

Visuals: Below, the woman is dancing in a line with three reddish woodpeckers in a greenish clearing in the trees. They wear intricately detailed dresses in different combinations of bright green, yellow, red, and black with geometric and floral embroidery. The dresses are cinched at the waist with a piece of fabric covered in colored bands. Their heads are covered in scarves with the same colors and patterns. They sing and step aggressively toward the left of the screen. At the other side of the clearing, a line of four red and white faced woodpeckers with green beaks and wings face right. They wear bright green hats, kerchiefs, and sashes, yellow and black striped vests, and dark red pants with yellow tassels at the ankles. Their black shoes tap against the ground as they make quick little dance steps and flutter yellow handkerchiefs. They hold onto the brims of their hats and then lean down with a flourish of their arms, exposing the red crests of their heads sticking up underneath. The dance then changes formation. The girls dance in a line to the left as the boys step in a line to the right.

Audio: The growl hushes down to a wavering whisper, like wings beating in the dark.

(“Tchwahh-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah…”)

Visuals: Out on a cliff by a waterfall, the scene is bathed in cyan. The line of dancers–alternating male, female, male, female–do a hopping dance from partners on the left to those on the right and back again as they move along the cliff, passing behind the waterfall as it disappears into the greenery in the foreground.

Audio: The guitar asserts itself again.

Visuals: Everything is suddenly red. A guitarist in a blue poncho and a red neck sash frets the neck of a guitar with a brown feathered hand. Rainbow ribbons are tied to the headstock. A deep orange song emanates from the strings.

Audio: The vocalist quickly accompanies the guitar with a harmonized version of the growl that revs up climatically, taking steps up the scale until it’s at its absolute height.

(“U-wa-wa ee-ee eh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-ohh!”)

Visuals: A congress of the partygoing birds stand in lines facing each other, all wearing blue outfits with red kerchiefs with rainbow tassels on them. The group jumps up and down in unison as part of a dance. The party breaks into smaller dances, and the woman dances by herself. She’s wearing a green skirt and flowy purple top with red underskirt, waist cinch, and scarf. Rainbow tassels are attached to the overskirt, and they swish with her movements. Beside her are a hawk woman and a pair of long billed bird men dancing in a circle with their ankles locked. A pair of red birds with white streaks on their wings suddenly hoist the woman into the air, as other birds are hoisted in the distance. As she’s held aloft, she sings and spreads her arms, revealing more tassels on her top, resembling wings. Her song is immense and beautiful. The camera focuses on one of the hoisted birds in the background, who has executed a handstand with the person who threw them. The blackbird’s feathers are all sorts of bright colors. The song passes by behind him. The excitement of the party disguises the presence of a looming pair of yellow slitted eyes peering out from a dark spot between the leaves nearby. A trio of purple pigeons dancing in a line with twigs and colored strings in their hands dip and weave together. The one in front balks, noticing the threat at last.

Audio: The high energy of the music suddenly cuts out. The shrill call of a small bird climbs up out of the silence.

(“Eee…”)

Visuals: A striped short legged pampas cat pounces into the center of the dance field. It misses the birds, but the illusion is shattered. The bird people are just birds again. They fly in a frenzy up through the trees to the safety of the early morning sky. The hilltop erupts with silhouettes of wings.

Audio: When the small bird’s call is at its highest, it tumbles back down and transforms into a low disquieting wail. The guitar re-enters.

(“Ee-ee-ee-ah-ahh ahh oohhh…”)

Visuals: The pampas cat has retreated into the dim tawny forest. It stands on a bent tree branch among bushes and hanging moss and stares into the camera with glowing yellow pupils. A tiny rodent scurries by and into a bush. The cat notices and darts after it. Nearby, dozens of bats hang from the underside of a rock formation that extends over a field of berry bushes. Their sleepy heads are tucked into their folded wings. A straggler flaps up to join the rest as the sun continues to rise. Elsewhere, a hive with wasp-like insects resting on the outside hangs over a rock. Sunlight gleams over the scene from a break in the trees in the background. A large brown mouse climbs up on the rock, backlit by the sun. It grabs a wasp in its teeth and leaves before the rest of the hive can wake up.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low steady murmur. A couple shakes from the shaker instrument follow.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: A colony of green and brown frogs with purple eye ridges, yellow faces, and orange bellies are asleep on dewy ridges of rock. A green cicada hangs out on a leaf off to the top left corner. The mouse jumps down through their resting spot, waking them all up. The frogs croak a green song as the cicada hangs on for dear life on the swinging leaf. The wind moans through the crevices of another stone forest. The little flowering shrubs that grow on the rocks bristle in the breeze. A variety of green, yellow, and blue lizards poke their heads out of the rocks, into the morning light.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the murmur. The flute follows this time.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to view the entire rock formation. The still rising sun shines only on the top half of right-facing stones. Long spindly tree trunks grow from the top left, out of sight. Long grass waves on the ground below. An alpaca-like vicu��a raises its head from the long grass, facing the light. In the branches of the trees above, various birds perch facing left.

Audio: The vocalist makes a mysterious sound that begins as a harsh sound between her teeth and ends as a whisper. It echoes in the background.

(“Chwah-ah…”)

Visuals: The camera turns back to the village. Golden light casts diagonally across the brown roofs and tan buildings. The silhouette of a small bird flies toward the center of town.

Audio: The vocalist makes the sound again, then pulls the whisper up into a harsh repeated rasp from the back of her throat.

(“Chwah-ah qwah-qw-qw-qw-qw-qwah-qwah-qwah”)

Visuals: Down in between the one-story houses, the bird flutters down. Long shadows lay across a passage leading toward a door on the side of a building. We see the shadow of the woman land in the soft dirt path where the bird’s would have. She heads toward the door at a walking pace.

Audio: The call returns to a whisper. The vocalist clicks her throat in a short series of hollow sounds, nearly like the creaking of wood.

(“Qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk, qwk qwk qwk qwk”)

Visuals: As she opens the door to enter the purple interior light of the house, we see that she’s back in her green dress, but now her shawl is red. The sun glints in her hair. Before she goes inside, she looks back and winks at the camera with a smile. Then, she slowly pulls the door behind her until it’s shut.

Audio: The vocalist lets out her breath entirely as the accompanying music trickles into silence.

(“Haaa…”)

Visuals: The screen is black for a few seconds.

Audio: The high whistling call of a green manakin can be heard over the rustling of forest trees. The call’s tone is raised at the end, like it’s asking a question.

(“Twee?… Twee?… Twee?… Twee?”)

Visuals: The end card appears. Yellow and green lettering and a border lay on a black background. The text reads: Yma Sumac. Peruvian soprano and composer. October 13th 1922 until November 1st 2008. Biographical and reference info in description. Chuncho, 1953. Written by Moises Vivanco. Capitol Records, Universal Music Publishing Group. Carlie Hughes. Tumblr @rainbowchewynuggets. www.carliehughes.com. End ID]

INDEX

#chuncho song #animatic #chuncho animatic #night festival animatic #the night festival #yma sumac #the birds #the forest creatures #this was supposed to go up on her birthday but i got sick aaa #Youtube

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kyoxyukiforever · 1 year

Text

The Science of A/B/O

Part 4 - Mating

Part 1 (The Basics), Part 2 (Heats and Ruts), Part 3 (Scents and Pheromones), Part 4 (Mating), Part 5 (Genetics and Presenting)

Warning: sex ed that no one asked for and all that that implies, discussions of knotting, slick, mating bites, semen, ejaculation, sexual anatomy and physiology of both humans and animals, and the most PG diagrams I could manage to find on the internet

MATING BITES

It seems like the reason A/B/O fiction depicts a scent gland as being on the neck is for the mating bite. The mating bite is based on an actual phenomenon that occurs in nature. Plenty of animals will bite their partners while mating, from cats to weasels to spiders. That said, mating bites in nature aren’t a way of forming or strengthening a bond. Instead, it’s considered one of many behaviors in nature that are classified as sexual coercion. When mating bites occur in real life, it’s to prevent the other animal from moving, escaping, or attacking the one delivering the bite. There isn't even a scent gland there - at least not that I could find in any of the animals I researched who exhibit this behavior.

Now, I'm just reading through existing papers and studies and applying them to the tropes that exist in A/B/O, mostly so you guys don't have to wade through hundreds of pages of densely worded scientific prose, but I don't have the expertise needed to invent new science, which I would need to do in order to explain mating bites in A/B/O.

Luckily for me, someone else has already done that.

@brainsforbabyjesus also did an in depth dive into the science of A/B/O over on AO3, which I highly encourage you to check out!

I actually wish that I had come across it before I did all of the research for these posts, but oh well. On the bright side, there are now two pieces of literature on the science of A/B/O for your perusal, each of which resulted from completely separate research methods, which means if you read both, you'll have a wealth of information coming from totally uncoordinated sources!

All that said, @brainsforbabyjesus seems to have a better understanding of applied biology than I do, and they invented a way for mating bites to work!

I'm not going to linger on it here, because you really should check out their work using this link or the link above (yes I linked it twice, go read it - mating bites are in chapter 4!). I'm just going to do a very bare bones rundown of their theory in order to continue on with my own research.

They suggest that there are three glands located on the back and either side of the neck (plus some surrounding nerves) that they call "the coniguim glandis (literally marriage gland)" and that during a heat/rut, either during or immediately following an orgasm, a "bonding enzyme" is produced inside an alpha/omega's mouth. When this enzyme is introduced to the coniguim glandis, the bite recipient literally gets their biology rewritten.

If that sounds fantastical, it is, but it's also firmly based in real world science, and if you want to understand it more in depth, PLEASE go check out their work. They also offer explanations for true mates and the trope of dying when one's mate dies. Happy reading!

Back to my own research and conclusions: the production of an enzyme in the mouth isn't the only interesting thing that happens to alphas and omegas during or immediately following an orgasm (although I will take this opportunity to posit that maybe the enzyme has anesthetic properties to make the bite hurt less).

That's right folks! We're finally getting to...

KNOTTING!

Let's just... let's just do this.

Knotting is something that happens in real life, specifically in canid mammals like dogs and wolves. You probably already knew that, but let's get into specifics. The knot, or bulbus glandis (pause for laughter) is an erectile tissue structure at the base of the penis, and not actually a gland. Immediately before ejaculation, this knot does exactly what you would expect erectile tissue to do: it becomes firm and engorged.

The purpose of this structure is to lock, tie, or knot the two animals together. This ensures that the penis remains in the vagina for the entire duration of ejaculation. Now uh, for humans, this isn't actually a difficult thing to accomplish, seeing as the average ejaculation duration of a human male is 4.2 seconds, or 10 seconds at the very most. Canids, on the other hand, will remain knotted or tied together for anywhere between 2 and 45 minutes, and ejaculation lasts the whole friggin' time.

I know that there's a pretty big gap between two and forty-five minutes, and this is largely down to the specific type of canid. Since I'm sure you're wondering: in wolves, the tie, or coitus entrapus (yes, really) typically lasts between 15 and 30 minutes, although it might be as short as 5 minutes, or as long as 40 minutes. Yet again, the timing isn't really narrowed down much further. So why is there such a huge disparity?

Well, when a wolf's knot becomes erect, it stays that way until literally all of the sperm is gone.

For comparison, a human ejaculates an average of 2 to 5 milliliters of semen, with each milliliter containing about 100 million sperm. Dogs? One milliliter of semen contains 300 million sperm, and they can ejaculate up to 30 milliliters. If you are remarkably quick at mental math, you might have calculated that this amounts to a total of nine billion (9,000,000,000) sperm for a single ejaculation, and you'd be right... mathematically speaking. In actuality, it only comes to about 2 billion, even at the 30 ml mark.

Obviously, the math doesn't add up. Why? Because ejaculation, in both humans and wolves, occurs in stages. As far as wolves go, the general consensus is that the first 30 seconds of ejaculate come from the prostate gland, followed by sperm-rich semen for a couple minutes, and then more from the prostate gland for anywhere between 6 and 45 minutes. With humans, because of how brief our ejaculation is, we tend to think of semen as everything mixed together all at once, but prostatic fluid does cleanse the urethra for the sperm before it makes its journey in humans as well.

So the reason there aren't 9 billion sperm in a dog's ejaculate is because not all of the ejaculate has sperm in it. Still though, 2 billion is nothing to sneeze at. What does this mean for our alphas?

This is another thing that is up to author discretion. The amount of ejaculate correlates in part with how long it has been since the last ejaculation, and for dogs, whose females are monoestrous, the males are really saving up for the whole house. Meanwhile, humans are paying monthly rent in a crappy apartment complex. Basically, human's tend to be a lot more wasteful of their genetic material. Dogs wait until they're already tied before ejaculating in order to maximize their odds of reproducing, but humans will settle for a hand and a computer screen.

So presumably this means that an alpha would have a shorter ejaculation, but uh... not necessarily. Remember that a dog's semen is only sperm rich for one or two minutes. Most of the semen is composed of prostatic fluid, accounting for up to forty-five minutes of the time the animals spend tied together.

In humans, prostatic fluid accounts for 20-30% of the semen ejaculated - significantly less than a dog. Here's the thing, though: human and canid prostate glands are pretty much the same size, and it isn't out of the question to suggest that when an alpha successfully achieves a tie, they might expel a comparable amount of prostatic fluid to dogs. This almost certainly wouldn't happen without a tie - although I suppose that physiologically the body could be tricked into it by using a sleeve of some kind. Without having successfully knotted, the alpha's ejaculation would likely look exactly the same as a normal human's.

That said, an alpha's ejaculation doesn't need to look like a dog's when they do knot. They could just as easily have the 4.2 second one normal people have, followed by a knot for some duration of time determined by the author, no further contribution required. Regardless, the amount of sperm in a male alpha's semen would be the same, no matter how much prostatic fluid you decide to include. Human sperm takes 74 days to mature fully, and completely emptying your, uh, bank account the way dogs do would leave you completely infertile for 74 days following a single orgasm - not exactly a reproductive advantage.

Now you might be thinking that coming for 45 minutes straight sounds absolutely insane, and sure, it has the potential to be very hot and very messy, but at what cost? I feel like I'm getting a cramp just thinking about it! Luckily for the alphas in this scenario, they don't have to do all the work themselves.

That's right, we're finally gonna talk about omegas, and how they contribute to the mating process!

Now before I get to the slick (yes, I hear you, just hang on a sec), I want to introduce you to a little something called the constrictor vestibuli muscles. These are a series of muscles just inside the opening of a female canine's vagina, and they are literally designed to clamp down around a knot and milk it.

The constrictor vestibuli reflexively (involuntarily) clamp down when they detect the presence of a knot, and once they have, they will contract and release around the knot repeatedly to help the male remain erect and continue to ejaculate. Just like how you can't stop yourself from ejaculating once you've started, the constrictor vestibuli are going to do their job, regardless of what the animal (or omega) they belong to might want. I thought this was an important thing to bring up, since I haven't really come across it while reading A/B/O fanfiction. It's interesting to me that both alphas and omegas would have these reflexive reactions while mating.

Okay, let's get to the important thing.

SLICK

In A/B/O, omegas produce slick, a form of natural lubrication, while they're in heat. Human women also produce natural lubricant using something called the Bartholin's gland (which is called the Cowper's gland in men and is actually what produces precum), but the way slick is depicted in fanfiction tells us that it's something... more significant, let's say.

We can once again turn to animals in heat to figure out how the natural lubricant really works and what it is. Animals start producing 'slick' during their preheat, or proestrus phase, and it's not coming from the Bartholin's gland. Instead, it comes directly from the cervix.

The technical term for this 'slick' is cervical mucus, which doesn't sound nearly as appealing. What is appealing about all of this is the fact that humans also produce cervical mucus. That's right! Humans produce slick just like animals do! In fact, women trying to get pregnant can identify when they are at their most fertile by the texture of their cervical mucus.

Cervical mucus serves two different purposes at two different parts of an estrous/menstrual cycle. If it's not a good time for fertilization to occur, it will be dry, tacky, or sticky. This texture of mucus is too thick for sperm to swim through. Sorry guys, this uterus is closed, please come back during regular business hours.

If it is a good time, then it serves a different function - the complete opposite one, in fact. Two days before ovulation in humans, or the beginning of preheat in animals with estrous cycles, the mucus changes to a creamy, yogurt-like consistency. By the time the body is ready, or when heat begins properly, it will be slippery and stretchy, resembling raw egg whites. This type of cervical mucus is ideal for sperm to swim through, maximizing the chance of fertilization.

Also, don't blame me for comparing the textures to foods, it's just what doctors and scientists tend to compare them to in the relevant literature. The egg whites in particular were brought up in nearly every paper I read with shocking consistency, so uh. Yeah, slick is egg whites, I guess.

One last thing before I leave this part of A/B/O Science - we talked a lot today about prostates. Like... a lot. I just wanted to address something:

Could male omegas have prostates?

You might remember that way back in the very first part of this series we discussed how certain body parts start off as the same thing in utero and become different things as the fetus develops? The example from back then was the gonads, which become either the ovaries or the testes. Well we have something similar with the prostate.

In females, the Skene's gland is homologous to the prostate in men, and it functions in much the same way. It stops you from pissing yourself (yeah, fun fact), and it produces prostate-specific antigen (PSA), which in men is designed to "water down" the semen so it can travel more easily through the urethra. The PSA produced in the Skene's gland doesn't have any sperm to deal with, but many scientists believe that PSA is what 'female ejaculation' actually is. So it would seem that the answer is no, male omegas can't have prostates...

...or can they?

Trans men who have been on testosterone for long periods of time can actually develop prostate tissue. In fact, after being on T for 43 months, seven out of eight trans men had some prostate tissue growth. 69% (heh) of the tissue was even shown to be producing PSA!

Now, because this prostate tissue isn't attached to the urethra, it doesn't contribute to the semen. It may or may not enter the bloodstream as inactive PSA, which is perfectly normal and happens to a portion of the PSA produced by a prostate belonging to a cis man as well, but there's no data on that yet. This discovery is actually very new, so there's a lot left to learn. What we do know is that this tissue appears totally harmless. None of the individuals shown to have this growth have gone on to develop prostate cancer or any other related issue - although many people will have a cancer scare when this tissue first appears, as it can easily be mistaken for a tumor at first glance.

Since we determined early on that male omegas would have a normal amount of androgens (the stuff that gives you chest hair and makes your voice drop) for a human male, we can also assume that they would see growth of prostate tissue. In fact, some intersex people have the exact same growth, although it is often further along than you would see in a trans man, because they've had those androgens for longer.

Scientists took tissue samples, and 100% of this surprise prostate tissue expressed androgen receptors. Basically, it's safe to assume that androgens, the same stuff that would make a male omega grow chest hair and have a deeper voice, would also cause them to grow a prostate.

That said, the Skene's gland would still be fulfilling the function of the prostate. Any prostate-specific antigen that occurs in ejaculate would be made there. Also, because omegas aren't producing sperm, their ejaculate wouldn't be nearly as thick as ejaculate with sperm in it. Instead, it would look and feel pretty much like milk. Also, if you want alphas to ejaculate for forty minutes, most of it would be milky as well.

This has been your PSA PSA for the day!

Next up on A/B/O Science: GENETICS AND PRESENTING

Part 1 (The Basics), Part 2 (Heats and Ruts), Part 3 (Scents and Pheromones), Part 4 (Mating), Part 5 (Genetics and Presenting)

#a/b/o science #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #alpha #beta #omega #alpha/beta/omega verse #a/b/o verse #a/b/o headcanon

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pettycrimesgreeneyes · 2 months

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What do you think of people who police others on BDS?

It’s pointless like all other forms of policing and shaming. I highly highly encourage everyone to try and follow BDS guidelines as closely as possible. I use to say “there is no ethical consumption under capitalism” but I stop saying that especially after this genocide cause it’s going to give weak ass people the pass to give up BDS completely especially those who solidarity is for show. I also want remind everyone that the reality is you can google almost any corporation or company and find that they have business in or with Israel but you have to study to what extent you can’t just trust your instagram research cause there is a lot misinformation and fear mongering unfortunately humans are weird and pessimistic like that. It’s to a point people were folks were lying about Arab owned business supporting Israel just cause they wanted to be petty or people in general spreading misinformation.

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banjomole63 · 2 years

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How The Best Programs for Learning to Code can Save You Time, Stress, and Money.

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You'll acquire a odds to check out coding through different methods, whether it be by means of hands-on mentorship, technical assistance, or in-person mentorship. Course foreign languages/modern technologies: HTML, CSS, JavaScript, data sources, Git, GitHub, Node.js, React.js, D3.js. It's all in the title of simpleness and ease. In truth, this is in the name of what's brand new in web development, something extremely comparable to what React was. This Website between this foreign language and React was the foreign language itself. The variations have been fully dropped in the complication of the foreign languages.

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#Best Places to Learn to Code

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years

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How do you go about creating pantheons for a world?

Drafting the Adventure: Planning a Pantheon

So my immediate answer to this question might be a bit disappointing, but my honest advice is to take it one god at a time, creating them as you need them for whatever story you happen to be telling at the moment. Trying to figure out gods, mythology, and the cultures that follow from them all at once is one of the big "worldbuilding traps" I often caution new DMs about: a time sync that you'll pour your creative juices into for little to no reward.

Instead, at the start of the campaign you only need to figure out:

The name/iconography/ethos/general feel of the main religion for the main setting of your primary adventure.

how that religion might affect/inspire the stories you want to tell.

if the players have any diverging spiritualities, and if so, what are they vaguely like?

It's really that simple, because once you have those details pinned down you'll have a strong foundation on which to build the theology of your world.

To come up with those details or any you might need down the line, start your creation of gods/religions with what you want their followers to act like, and the themes you'd like them to introduce into your campaign. Religions are made by people after all, and they make their gods in the reflection of their own values, needs, and identities.

When you need to come up with iconography, I'd highly recommend a free association method, starting with things adjacent to your god's area of interest and then adding florishes. Don't just give your gods an elemental domain ( The sky, the sea, fire, farming) and be done with it, instead think of peoples/animals/objects that the worshiper would associate with that element, and then pick and choose a second level of association from there. Gods should also all have a positive emotional component that their worshipers would relate to/try to embody.

To give a couple of examples from my home game:

One of my deities of the sea is a husband wife couple, with the former being a sailor/boatbuilder and a patron of architecture, while the latter weaves nets and sails and is a charter of stars. Their love and trust in one another is embodied both as patrons of craft and arbiters of fate.

My equatorial god of agriculture is patron of grapes, wine, healing, and more esoteric arts like alchemy. In addition to being seen as a benevolent force of peace and plenty, their domain over things that change also means they're the guide and guardian of trans folk in my world.

"The Crone" is one of my primary gods of knowledge, though she leans more to hard-won experience than academic research. Her clergy collects the teachings of learned experts to propagate throughout the world, and also smiths a widely circulated silver coinage to avoid the perils of inflation and devaluing.

More structured ideas on how to build a pantheon below the cut, as well as a few other pitfalls to avoid in your own writing.

Thing to Avoid #1: please please please please don't use IRL religions in your d&d games, especially from currently existing cultures. I understand it makes things simple to just slap a pre-existing mythology into your game and go from there, but I find it both disrespectful and immersion breaking to have a real life culture made into a prop in someone's imagination game. If you want to take inspiration from a religion ( and I encourage you to), take it back to first principles of writing: figure out what the thematic underpinnings of the religion are and then use those ( and the methods I present here) to build out something new that can be wholly your own while paying homage to the original.

Thing to Avoid #2: Avoid parody. This was going to be an addendum to the last point but I think it deserves its own. It's VERY fun to punch up at oppressive religious structures, but unless your game is a comedy, you should treat your world's faiths as a thing that people within that setting can take seriously.

Thing to Avoid #3: No one wants to worship the murdergod. I talk about this in my discussion on cultists, but d&d has this weird habit of creating wholly evil gods that no one would actually worship, just to create the excuse for parties to be able to wipe out their followers wholesale. Gods that are evil are either corruptions of normally reserved deities, indulgent in one aspect to the point of extremity, or are terrible beings that are payed homage by common people in hopes of forestalling the misfortune they bring.

Using the MTG color pie:

So I'll make no secret about how much I admire the WOTC worldbuilding team, especially since they've begun to bring a little of that creative energy to d&d's mostly stagnant setting catalogue. One of their genius inventions is the "color pie", a sort of idea pallet with which they can paint innumerable different worlds that remain internally consistent by following a few simple rules. ( More gushing about the color pie, and how to use it, here)

The Theros setting is already an example of the colorpie used to create a pantheon of gods, but if you wanted to use it for your own ends, simply start with the color alignment of whatever culture you happen to be focusing on, and begin toying around with the different synergies and contrasts that exist within that alignment. Say you were focusing on a complex culture that was aligned with three different colors, that gives you the oppertunity to create:

One tri-alignment deity/religion that covers the ideal of society

Three dual color deities which express aspects of that society without toching on all of it

Three elemental deities that make up core pillars of the society/the land it's on.

Plus whatever combination of elements don't fit into this society's alignment, which make great oppositional forces or "boogymen"

With those outlines before you, all you need to do is use the association method I presented earlier to start filling things in, or pick n chose from the wide variety of canon d&d gods to fill in spots as needed.

#drafting an adventure #dm tools #dm advice #dm tips #mtg #d&d #d&d adventure #dnd #dungeons and dragons adventure #writing advice #dungeonmaster #religion

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memoriesofthecircularroom · 2 years

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Hi. I'm feeling really frustrated today and was wondering if you had any good links for figuring out if you have DID and/or how to improve communication/identification with/of alters? I find it's so hard to find solid information about this disorder.

Hey Anon! Thank you for the long wait. We've been incredibly busy lately, and it's been hard to get back to you! Lots of things will be under the cut, but I have to preface: I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL! I'm going to link you to thinks that helped me and that I can find myself, but I highly suggest you seek out a therapist/specialist that knows more about this disorder, or blogs that are more advice/source related. And as always, I encourage others to give advice where I cannot!! I'm only on one part of the tumblr world, after all, and I would love more advice on this topic myself.

Do I have DID?:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/dissociative-disorders/diagnosis-treatment/drc-20355221 -> This link helped me when I was first starting out looking for DID stuff. Yes, I know, it's Mayo Clinic, but there's also some good, fast self-check in stuff that you can try to answer for yourself.

https://www.mind-diagnostics.org/dissociative_identity_disorder-test/screener -> I actually just performed one of these tests for my own therapist. It's a test for dissociative symptoms and "if you have the disorder." Keep in mind, it is NOT a diagnosis. Just something that could indicate you might need some specialized care/research into DID.

https://did-research.org/did/basics/diagnosis -> Another website I found while doing research for my senior thesis, and also that really helped me understand something was off for me. This one helped a lot in defining terms and getting out of my denial.

https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/9792-dissociative-identity-disorder-multiple-personality-disorder -> Another big help to me when I was starting out. It provides a nice overview AND discusses FAQs.

Better Communication:

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/dissociation-and-dissociative-disorders/self-care/ -> Found this from @anti-endo-agony-auncles and I loved it. It details way you can provide self-care for yourself. Journaling is a very common technique for improving communication.

https://positivepsychology.com/mbct-mindfulness-based-cognitive-therapy/ -> While Mindfulness is a struggle for me, I think it could help you! It's all about being aware of your thoughts. A good read and a good strategy!

General Resources:

https://docs.google.com/document/u/0/d/14zEqDnO60EplWatv8GwHNMwa3r3HaT-f8NeU8M_GxKY/mobilebasic -> Another great one I'm stealing from anti-endo-agony-auncles. This is great, especially if you've got other things you're looking into, or want a more clinical view of DID/OSDD.

I also suggest these folks in the community, as they've been helping me a lot!

@anti-endo-agony-auncles - Often gives advice and is a safe place to vent/rant @justanothersyscourse - Give a lot of detailed descriptions of DID and Diagnostic Criteria, and also about the DID community as it is currently (AKA a perpetual dumpster fire) @informationsorter - Does as the name implies. Great resources there :)

I would post more, but I'm having a difficult time remembering all the lovely folks I follow. I encourage my followers who see this post to add onto it, however, with more resources, good blogs, and advice!!

#did #dissociative identity disorder #plural #traumagenic #osdd #other specified dissociative disorder #actually traumagenic #mod Debra #OSDDID #Resources #Anon #Anonymous #Asks #DID Resources

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paint-lady · 3 years

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Vamptober 2021 Reflection Week 1

Heres your TLDR folks: I do spooky vampire drawings its fun I have a kofi see you next week

Hiya! For those of you that follow me, you may remember that last inktober I did a weekly reflection on each piece I do. I highly encourage any artist participating in any monthly art challenge to do this for 3 big reasons.

The task of 31 drawings can feel overwhelming- and breaking it down weekly feels much more manageable.

It encourages you to praise and reward yourself for getting this far. I and many of my artist friends are exceptionally critical of ourselves, and these reflections force you to be positive about your own work. Through these challenges I always see tremendous growth in my skills.

If you want to be critical about your work- you can find patterns easier by looking at a collection rather than each individual piece.

The secret 4th reason is that I get to spam your dash with vampire art AGAIN. >:)

I presented myself with a challenge for all of these pieces- to do them all in under 1 hr and 30 minutes. This doesn’t count the amount of time I spend conceptualizing and researching, but I don’t let myself spend too much time on that either. Not that I can. I work about 30-36 hours a week and am attempting to draw a comic at the same time. There aren’t a lot of hours in the day. This time limit challenge was simultaneously to force myself to get looser and trust my instincts AND make sure I clock in on time. Secondly, I aim to do all of these digitally. By hand has dry times. In 2020, if I wanted to spend 4 hours waiting for a piece to dry- I could. Can’t this year. Additionally, I know Clip Studio fairly well, but by no means do I consider myself an expert. By doing this digitally, I am going to improve my literacy with this program.

So, without delay, lets take a look at what I’ve done so far!

Vamptober Day 1: Fangs Out!

1 HR 20 MIN

I am really happy with this piece for a multitude of reasons. The composition is well balanced, drawing your eyes down center to the text, then up to the pearly whites. The hands are so simple, I just went to town with the digital dry ink brush. The nails are so shiny, I love them. There’s this sense of someone else controlling and going to grab them--thats not the smiler’s claws.

I am critical about my shading in some places- namely the tongue. I think it looks phallic. I should have erased it and drawn the other fang. Also, the vein work is a bit too controlled for my liking. I should have taken more time to vary the widths of the veins- so it looks more like the effects of diablerie than cracked porcelain.

Vamptober Day 2: Sweet Embrace

1 HR 10 MIN

To quote a successful local manga artist I met in a comic shop, “Just vibe. Just draw the fun vibes. If you aren’t having fun, what is even the point?” So I did just that.

I definitely was inspired by some of those romance mangas I was eyeing on the shelves of that comic shop. I am really happy with her hair, it looks like it curls so effortlessly. Additionally, it look like it has weight. Hair is heavy. How her hair drapes over her shoulder or across her face feels very accurate. I like how I used the dry ink brush to end the piece, hiding the shadows of their shirt with a “hey this is the end of the drawing.” My favorite quick detail is her hand, gently playing with their hair. I think I could have made it a little bigger, but It was enlightening that I just drew it- and didnt spend 15 minutes looking for a reference or oddly angling my own hand to see how it would look.

I think I needed to be a bit more careful with my layers. The grey from her clip layer is showing between curls, blocking the textured background. That is a small enough fix I should have taken the couple minutes to do it.

Vamptober Day 3: Where The Undead Gather

1 HR 45 MIN

THINBLOOD SAFEHOUSE THINBLOOD SAFEHOUSE THINBLOOD SAFEHOUSE!

Most of you know I’ve been tossing this idea around- perhaps in my vampire posts or on my rp blog as Hazel. But actually visualizing it has proven quite a challenge. Last year I wasn’t even up to the task- I couldn’t capture it the way I wanted to and ended up posting Hazel’s jacket instead.

But this... this feels right. Its cramped. It’s absolutely drenched in saturated red light, hiding any stains and drips. Bright red, like a fucking target. Hiding plain sight has so many advantages... but once you are spotted its game over.

I really feel like I managed to get loose as you look into the background. It feels like the right level of lack of detail. I am very proud of the neon light up top, its the alchemical symbol for thinbloods. The text is also very good, it has the right textures for the atmosphere I’ve created. The side shave with the mark is subtle enough that it is noticed after your eye has glanced around the entire piece. I think there is only one note I’d give myself. I which I had done the bricks a little better. With the neon light illuminating the arch so vibrantly, I should have spent a little more time highlighting textures and perspective.

Vamptober Day 4: Elysium Fashion

2 HOURS

Ever just know you have a masterpiece concept and you know exactly how you want to do it? Thats how I felt about this piece. When I read through the prompts, I considered doing some haute couture fashion... and then it hit me. That line my storyteller used on me to understand the nature of Elysium. Its a place to see and be seen... its a chance to make a statement. And a thinblood walking in with the mark they branded her with on full display- as they commanded her. How dare she walk without shame. How dare she not lower herself to us. CHEFS KISS

My only note for myself is that I need to be careful with compositions. I borrowed a lot of elements from a full page piece from a Catwoman comic for this. And although I have made it my own and am not aiming to monetize this piece, there is a part of me that knows to be cautious with what I claim is mine. I am capable of replicating work without tracing, yet I look at this and see that the lines are still too similar. I do believe that if I let myself continue working on this overnight (I stopped at like 1 am oops) that this would be less of an issue- as I would have continued to add details and textures to my background characters.

Vamptober Day 5: The Very First Bite

1 HR 9 MIN

I streamed this drawing with a friend and it was wonderfully fun. I am really happy with the sense of motion from the ink in the background with the splashes of blood drops. I think I did a good job with the proportions and subtle highlights on black ink. The soft eraser on a separate layer is a godsend.

The parts I am critical about are in two places. The head of the vampire feels a bit too big. Namely the side shave. I think if I had worked the airbrush there and shortened how far the shave goes, the head wouldn’t feel as cartooned and a bit more proportioned. The other spot is where the victim’s hand is going. I definitely knew this when i was drawing- but I couldn’t find a way to properly incorporate it. I commend myself to making my shading consistent to hide this- but i really wish I could’ve gotten that part to feel less “wait...where’d her hand go?”

Vamptober Day 6: Undead Love

1 HR 3 MINUTES

HAZEL AND LISA MY BELOVEDS

I based this piece off of what I drew in 2019 from my first ever chronicle. One of the most striking scenes I have ever played with Hazel was with her girlfriend, Lisa. That night Lisa agreed to drink some of Hazel’s vitae for her to tell her...everything. There’s poison under the layers of comfort.

When I had first drawn this piece, I noticed a lot of odd proportions. Hazel’s head was oddly shaped, Lisa’s arms were weirdly long for her body shape. In this piece, I have mostly remedied those errors. However, there is something about the piece having these sketchy mistakes left in that feels right. Theres a softness to the original sketch that I managed to keep with the updated version- although it feels different. The original definitely looks like they are cuddling after having sex- not just had the most intense discussion about continuing their relationship despite all the trouble they know is going to head their way. Not that they didn’t have sex after this discussion but details. I think I managed to retain their relaxed expressions, though I wish I could have incorporated a bit more detail about the influence of the blood into the piece.

Vamptober Day 7: The Hideout

1 HR 45 MIN

For some reason, I wanted to paint this. I started messing around with the water color brushes and before I knew it, there was color on the page. I think i did a good job capturing the atmosphere of this moment. My friend commented, [paraphrasing here] “Its exactly what I like about VTM, its a layer over our world. It doesn’t take much to peel back the layer and see the story within it.” The last thing you see is the person calling at the bottom right- and you don’t know if thats good or bad for the person watching the sky. I let my viewer form their own story of what is happening here.

I think I had a hard time with the lighting. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how intense of a yellow-green i needed to place on objects and scenery. Ultimately, I returned to the just vibe rules.

Week 1 Reflection:

So that’s 7 pieces. WOO! I did it! While bumping myself up to a full time position AND writing a comic. AND doing commissions. And am somewhat being social...

There’s a part of me that is like when do I mess up and fall behind?

And I’m wrestling on why that feels like such a failure to me. I’ve put so much on my plate, it would not be surprising to fall behind. And is it so bad? Its okay, life is like that. Things come up. I am still trying to wrestle my own brain on I don’t have to do it all. I think giving myself that time limit has extremely helped. if I didn’t have that self discipline, I definitely could have spent hours and hours on each piece and felt overwhelmed. I think being extremely strict with myself about my vitamin and food intake as we head into seasonal depression time is helping. I am very good at hiding the big Sad tm with tons and tons of tasks. The sad can’t get me if I’m constantly busy. I am hoping that as I continue, I will be more at peace with this, and feel less anxious about this inevitable fuck up. Because....what if I manage to pull it off? I know I can. I know I can.

Completely switching gears here and back to technical shit, I notice how much I am utilizing the Dry Ink Brush, the Rough water color brush, and my Tapered Ink Liner. Nothing wrong with finding what works, I am just surprised that this is becoming my go-to tool set after a year of swearing by the “For Effect” Line (it just autocorrects curves). I am noticing how I like to frame things with a lot of rough brush strokes. Some are images I find on open source sites like pixabay, some are my own creations I’ve saved to a personal library of stock images. Right now, I feel as if I am at a crossroads of style. There’s a part that likes the rigid structure, and a part that is absolutely vibing with being lose and unstructured. I can’t wait to see what else I create and how my digital style evolves.

Thank you for reading and supporting through this entire thing! Now here comes the shameless self promotion. If you like my work and want to support me- I have a Ko-Fi! No pressure to donate though! Supporting me can be reblogging my art, sharing it with your friends, or leaving outrageous comments in the tags. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you all!

Lets have a Fangtastic Week 2 to Vamptober!

#vamptober #vamptober 2021 #stephanie's sketchbook #my art #reflection #long post #inktober #okay to reblog #ko-fi link

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serpentstole · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’m new to Luciferianism but I stumbled across your tumblr in my googling and really vibe with a lot of what you say. Do you have any suggestions of books, websites, articles, anything really that are good, solid sources of information? What are the “foundation” texts every Luciferian should read? Anything or any authors to avoid? (Like Joy of Satan.) Thanks for taking the time to answer!

Thanks for reaching out! It's wild that this blog shows up in google searches about Luciferianism... it's not something I really expected, but I like to think there are worse alternatives.

To prevent making this a hugely long and repetitive answer, I went and grabbed some previous posts.

Here's the last answer I gave concerning my general reading suggestions and tips, including what I think are some major foundational ideas and texts that led to how we tend to perceive Lucifer. I also talked about why I think it's worthwhile for Luciferians to give a glance at the Christian Bible in this post, as I know for some folks it might feel counterintuitive. I don't really have a formal point form list at this time, because I don't like recommending books I haven't personally read and vouch for, and finding readily appropriate and recommendable Luciferian specific books can be... tricky.

As far as specific authors to avoid go, I'm really not a fan of Michael W Ford, prolific as he is. I go into a bit of my issues with his writing here, where I use Bible of the Adversary as an example, as it's the one I see recommended/found the most often and the book of his I had on hand to pull examples from. However, I wouldn't say you should avoid his books at all cost if you're curious? I don't want to pretend like it's impossible you could get some inspiration or worth from his work just because I'm very critical of it.

For a more general idea of what to avoid... that comes with practice. I have a list of my own personal red flags and dog whistles I posted here the other day, but getting a feel for what's worthwhile to read and engage with will be a skill you develop over time. Also, it'll be down to personal taste! I don't want to pretend like my version of Luciferianism is the only way to do it. The things I look out for tend to be a spectrum. For example, one of the Luciferian books I do often encourage people to read is very Gnostic in nature, but since I know my opinions on Gnosticism and some of the implications it can carry, I'm critical about what I take from it. Meanwhile, a book about Lilith or Qliphoth has nothing for me as a Luciferian from a Christian background, and I tend to be suspicious of how many of these books are actually written by those coming from Judaism... though I wouldn't say it's impossible.

Articles are likewise a little tricky to recommend. I don't have any specific trusted website I can name, and the article that actually introduced me to the concept of Luciferianism is a bit narrow. I even have mixed feelings about the old post Sarah Anne Lawless made about Luciferian witches, despite being a long time fan of her writing and work. It's just such a varied and nuanced religion that there will never be a definitive source of information, and unfortunately I've found far more duds than useful information. If I ever stumble across a solid resource, I'll be sure to share it.

While it's not a formal guide or source of information, I highly recommend the 30 Day Luciferianism/Satanism Challenge that I took part in. Not necessarily my answers, but working on it for yourself! I found it an excellent tool for examining my own religion as someone who's been settled into it for a few years now, so I think that someone approaching it as very new to Luciferianism could use it to help figure out what parts of their beliefs or practice they want to expand on, research, et cetera.

Hope it helps! Feel free to reach out again with any other questions you have.

#luciferianism #theistic luciferianism #luciferianism 101 #illumine #ask #asks #answer #answers #everyday-forever

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pars-ley · 3 years

Text

Fists and a Smart mouth

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader

Summary: When a rich cowboy moves into town you can't stand him, more so when he attempts to make some drastic changes but with a secret of your own he soon finds out that you'll protect your town and your privacy by any means necessary.

Genre: Idiots to lovers / Enemies to lovers / Angst / Smut / Wild west au / Cowboy au / One shot

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Abusive ex / Mentions of stabbing (not detailed description) / Guns / Talk of scars / Shooting (not described) / Oral (f receiving) / Sex / Minor character death

Word count: 8100

Project: Bts writers collective secret santa 2020

A/N: This is for my Secret Santa @joontopia I was not planning it to be anything like this but it took on a mind of it’s own as I wrote, so my apologies. It’s not the fluffiest thing I’ve written but I really, really hope you enjoy this. If you have an issue with any of the warnings, message me and I will try and edit it for you. It was really lovely getting to know you through asks and trolling your page for clues and info about yourself. Enjoy ❤

Thank you to @moccahobi for beta reading this and @birbdae also, your comments helped me a lot, it’s much appreciated. And thank you to @wheresmymoniat for being a general angel and reading along the way, with your endless encouragement when I’m unsure of my writing.

Two months since Namjoon moved to town.

"Have you heard?" one of your usual patrons, Hoseok, asked, leaning discreetly across the bar.

You look over with a questioning eyebrow. "Heard what?" you reply, half listening and half keeping an eye on Taehyung over on the piano. After one too many beers, you wanted to make sure he wasn't about to put a fist through the keys, with his wild playing; giving the room a personal concert.

"Namjoon's planning on building a mall." he whispers, glancing around suspiciously.

The empty glass you're drying slams against the counter as you turn and face him.

"How do you know this?" you ask, voice low and uneven with anger.

"I heard him talking to Seokjin about it, he wants his help with planning."

Seokjin, the local and resident builder, he's also the best builder in the state. You knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want to help with something like that. He wouldn't want to change this town...but maybe for the right price? We all know Namjoon has money, the way he flashes it around like a Hollywood star meant it was not a secret and he didn't want it to be. Even so, you highly doubt Seokjin would accept such an offer.

Doubt starts creeping in, an ugly voice whispering in the back of your mind.

"Hey, Jimin! Can you take over for me?" you call over to him.

He nods, joining you behind the bar instantly, as you grab your brown fringe-jacket and head out to Seokjin's ranch. You had to know if there was substance to this and not just rumours whispered between the townsfolk.

As your truck raced along the dirt roads, the sound of the roaring engine doing nothing to calm your mind, with flashing images, slicing their way behind your eyes like projector slides. Big corporate buildings, a shopping mall, more city folk, modernisation...not that you were against it. You just didn't want it here. That's what drew you to this place in the beginning a few years ago, that's why you stayed and built a life for yourself, that's why a lot of people stay here, for the vintage, small town life.

You fling your door open before your truck had even come to a stop and you waltzed straight up to Seokjin's front door. Your knuckles making loud contact as they rapped furiously against it.

He opens it with a frown, his face softening when he sees it's you but quickly his expression turns weary from the tense expression you hold.

"What's-"

"Are you helping Namjoon build a mall?" you demand, in no mood to be messed around.

His jaw tenses and he nods for you to come inside.

Storming into his living room too infuriated to sit, you stand and face him, arms folded, waiting for his response and dreading his answer.

"He did approach me about it but I said no. Did you really think I'd say anything but?" He shook his head at you, disappointment obvious on his face and immediate guilt rising inside you in response.

Your shoulders relax as you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding. "I had to check before I assumed anything."

You slump down on the sofa, leaning your head back and staring up at his slacked ceiling. "Why is he doing this?"

He lets out a laugh as he joins you on the couch. "Now, you know the answer to that. Money. It's all he cares about. He saw an opportunity for something and he's taking it. End of."

You rub your eyes, trying to ease the tension created from your anger pounding inside your head, desperate to escape like some caged, wild animal. "If I went to see him with my gun, do you think it would change his mind?"

He laughs again. "I don't think he'd change his mind even if you shot him, sweetheart." A groan rumbles inside you, the idea of him being so stubborn, makes your fist want to connect with his jaw. "That's not deterring me from doing it."

"If he's going to do it, there's not much we can do." he shrugs and puts his feet up on his wooden coffee table, the wood dipping slightly on impact.

Fury lights your insides anew. You stand, striding across the room, "Like hell there isn't." you say, as you storm out and head off ready for a confrontation with the person you hate the most in this entire town.

You expect your wrath to have died down somewhat on your ride over but, to your pleasant surprise, it hasn't.

You come to a halt outside his ranch, looking over his land and the new building he spent ages preparing to become a hotel...an empty one at that.

After hammering on his door so hard the hinges rattled, he strangely and calmly invites you inside his house.

"You really should see someone about your anger issues. It's not healthy for one person to harbour so much...rage." he says, in such a condescending manner you clench your jaw to stop yourself from lashing out. You'd only be proving him right.

Something about him got to you, you two have clashed since the moment he arrived in this town, and he knew exactly how to play it too.

"The only issue I have, Namjoon, is you."

He sighs. "I would very much like you on board with this. I don't want to have you fighting the inevitable."

"The inevitable." you gasp with angered amusement, "as long as I'm living in this town, this is anything but inevitable."

"Why do you hate this idea so much?" he asks perplexed, with simultaneous interest and bemusement.

"Someone like you would not understand." You fold your arms in an attempt to hold in the pointless angry words you feel boiling inside.

He shrugs. "I would like to try. Humour me."

You let out an exasperated sigh, tired of the anger, tired of being so closed off but you had no choice but to be exactly that. "Some people have come here to enjoy the small town life." you reply simply, not having the trust in him or yourself to say more.

"And maybe some people have come here to escape something?"

You freeze, heart stopping before pounding so violently against your ribcage, you're sure it's echo fills the room.

He watches you carefully, searching your eyes and all you can do is stare back.

"You know, I did some research after our first encounter…"

You swallow, trying to ease the choking sensation in your throat.

"...I'm usually good at finding any useful information about people…"

He walks slowly around his kitchen island to you. You couldn't move even if you wanted to, your feet frozen to the spot but wanting to run, fighting for you to run.

"...But you...I couldn't find a single thing about you."

Your eyes connect with his as he towers above you, searching for your own answers, needing to find out what he knows.

"Don't you find that odd?" he asks.

Your mind races inside your frozen stature. You could not tell a man like Namjoon anything. You could not trust him. He will ruin this life you've made and turn it upside down.

"Well, I found it very odd. It's like you don't even exist...so that got me intrigued and asking some questions."

Your stomach drops as small beads of sweat break out across your forehead, the sudden heat under your flannel shirt almost unbearable.

"And do you know what I found out?" he taps his chin, drawing out the tension purposefully and making you want to headbutt the smug look off his face.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No one knows a personal thing about you."

The relief you feel inside makes you want to collapse to your knees and thank gods you don’t believe in.

"That is, if they're being honest. I know you like to protect your own in communities like this. But it definitely has me wondering…?"

He waits for a response this time.

"What?" your voice comes out a raspy whisper, his words leaving the taste of ash in your dry mouth.

"What are you hiding?"

You steel yourself, remembering just how pathetic of a man he is and let's face it, you've dealt with much scarier things than him. "Even if I was hiding something, I'd certainly never tell the likes of you."

You turn and head towards his door, when you hear his voice again.

"I'm not stupid enough to believe we'll be friends, you know but I would like us to at least be civil."

You let out a bitter laugh. "You can keep dreaming, pretty boy." You storm out, slamming his door hard enough for the glass to rattle in it’s wooden frame.

Three and a half months since Namjoon moved to town.

He's wasted, completely inebriated. You watch from behind the bar, getting ready to close, as he fumbles for the keys to his truck.

He came quietly into the bar this afternoon, face like thunder, ordering drink, after drink, after drink, no other words spoken. Most unusual for the chatty Kathy he is.

You've never seen him so drunk - so vulnerable. You wonder if perhaps something has happened. But, honestly, do you really care?

The keys slam to the floor and he goes head first into the driver's side door as he bends to retrieve them, face down in the dirt.

You shouldn't let him drive home. Definitely not.

Quickly shrugging on your jacket and grabbing your keys, locking the bar doors behind you as you rush over to him.

"Hey, big guy, come on, let's get you up." you throw his arm around your shoulders and use all your strength to get him on his feet and on balance.

"I don't...need...your help." he mumbles, leaning into you, almost ready to pass out.

You open his truck door and shove him in, sliding him over as you climb in beside him. He doesn't notice as you pry the keys from his weak grip and start the engine.

Driving to his ranch would be a mistake; the pretentious layout of it would mean you would have to walk him much further than you think you actually could. Not without dropping him a few times, although that's not a bad idea.

You sigh as you drive down the winding dirt road that led to your land. The idea of having this man in your house would usually have infuriated you. But after seeing the sadness that clouded his eyes this morning you...felt for him.

You once told him he must have a miserable existence, being surrounded by money and not love. You wince at the memory. You were no different, except you weren't surrounded by either, how miserable does that make you?

As you pull up to your ranch, you look over to him, passed out, face squashed against the glass of the window. You wonder what secrets he must have, what sadness he's known, what dreams he’s had. How does someone get to be the way he is?

There are surely a few people who would ask that very question about you. Only, you had a reason...have a reason. One you will never be free from. You push the thoughts away, back down into the pit they're buried into. No time to dwell in self pity. You're in this position through no fault but you're own, you bought it on yourself and now you have to live with those choices.

You practically carry him the few steps to the front door and over to the sofa. He stumbles and almost trips over your rug but you hoist him up, almost injuring yourself in the process. You practically throw him onto the couch, where he tries to hold himself up but fails and collapses into the pillow you shove under him.

"I wish…" he starts, slurring every word. "I wish I was more like you."

"No, you don't." You reply into the thick silence that envelopes you in a inescapable cage.

His eyelids close and immediately a roar of snoring fills the room, vibrating not only your eardrums but you're sure the walls too.

You lift his legs and lay them flush with his body, his limbs are so long they hang off over the armrest.

Taking one last look at him and wondering exactly what he meant by that, before heading upstairs to bed.

Why would anyone want to be like you?

The day after you let Namjoon sleep on your couch.

You had taken longer than necessary in the shower this morning, pottered around upstairs, procrastinating, which is something you rarely do and all to avoid the man you'd left slumped unconscious on your couch.

You listen for any signs of movement down stairs and when you hear none, part of you hopes he's gone. That he woke up early and drove home, no awkward encounter, no questions, just peace.

You should be so lucky.

As you descend your wooden stairs, you hear the rattle of snoring and roll your eyes.

He lay on his stomach, face squashed on its side with limbs splayed out and hands sagged against your rug.

How were you going to get rid of him?

You prepare a few things in the kitchen before taking some pain killers and a glass of water over.

You nudge him tentatively with your foot. Nothing. Nudging him again, harder this time, but still nothing.

"Hey." You call harshly into the heavy silence. Nothing.

Inspiration strikes, as your hand lashes out, flicking the glass forward and sending water cascading over him.

He jumps up with a gasp, bolt upright, shock contorting his face.

You bite back a laugh at the sight of his drenched form.

His eyes widen when he focuses on you and then dart around wildly searching for answers.

"I drove you home last night as you could hardly stand but you passed out so I brought you here." You explain in a blasé manner.

Holding out the pills, he takes them mechanically.

"I'll just refill your water for you." You skip off with a smirk. His wet hair clinging to his forehead, little water droplets dripping off the end of his nose. The sight deeply satisfying, in more ways than one. As much as you would never admit it, he looked good wet.

He swallows the pills and greedily downs the water you return with. Gasping for air, he finally meets your gaze. "We didn't…" he stumbles on his words and you laugh loudly.

"Trust me, you were in no condition for anything physical last night."

A hint of a smile plays around his mouth but he tries to fight it. "That doesn't sound like you're completely repulsed by the idea?" One of his eyebrows pulls up into a challenging arch.

"Ha! If you were the last man on earth and the human race was left depending on us to continue, only then would I possibly consider it."

A shy smile and a dimple creating an endearing crevice in his cheek. "Well that's not a complete no, so I'll take that."

You shake your head, amused, if not a little perplexed by him.

He sighs, wiping down his damp jeans. "Well, I suppose I better get out of your hair." He stands, seeming slightly unsteady and visibly in pain as he clutches his head.

"Why don't you stay for breakfast, have some coffee then I'll drive you back to your place in the truck?"

He stares at you with his mouth popped open in a little 'o', the same expression you imagine looking at yourself with. Where in the fuck did that come from? Have you forgotten who he is?

"If that's ok with you, that would be great...unless you're planning to poison me?" There's humour in his remark but a sincere worry too.

You chuckle as you head over to the stove, switching it on and cracking some eggs into the heated frying pan, the sizzle filling the silence. "I can assure you, I'm more of a 'violence is the answer' type person, in case that wasn't obvious already."

You smile to yourself at the memory of the very first day you met.

He'd backed his truck into yours, denting the hood and completely knocking off the bumper before driving home. You had greeted him in his living room, not bothering to knock, just letting yourself in, backing him into a corner and threatening him with a wrench. The image of his wide eyed, frozen form brought you a fresh wave of satisfaction as he handed you a wad of cash and uttered frantic apologies.

"Hmm, so I recall." He replies, brows furrow in thought as he takes a seat at your table, clearly his mind travelling to the same place yours is. You'd gotten off entirely on the wrong foot, and if you were honest, still continued to.

"How do you like your eggs?"

He smirks. "I'm assuming, 'with a kiss' is pushing it."

You shoot him a glare, even though you feel amusement tug at your lips.

He holds his hands up. "Fair enough, as they come will be fine."

Once breakfast is done, you drive him home, smiling and laughing more than you thought possible with him, you realise he's actually quite humorous when he's not torturing you by his existence.

You stand awkwardly by his truck waiting for him to say words that are clearly trying to escape from his mouth but he seems to be having trouble forming.

"Thank you...for last night...and this morning. You've been surprisingly kind, even if I really don't deserve it." He looks at his feet while clutching his hat tightly, looking utterly innocent and fragile, suddenly seeming like a much younger man standing in front of you.

"Don't mention it. It won't happen again, don't worry." You smile playfully as you knock on his truck and leave, feeling his eyes watching you as you saunter off down the dirt road to work.

"I'm sorry, did I just hear that right?" Seokjin asks, his voice shrill, shock making his eyes bulge comically at you. "'He's not that bad' since when, please tell me!? A few days ago you thought he was the devil in disguise."

You laugh at his reaction and poke him playfully on the chest. "Hey, listen, all I'm saying is we only show people what we want others to see, doesn't mean it's always real."

He thinks for a moment, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So what you're saying is, he acts like Mr big shot money bags but he isn't?" He gives you a quizzical look and checks your temperature with the back of his hand.

You laugh again and shove his hand away. "Yes, I am fine and yes in a way. Sure, he has money and he shows off but maybe he acts like that to hide something else. Maybe he thinks that's what people expect of him, maybe he's scared of something."

Seokjin's windshield wiper laugh shrieks in your ears. "Ok, now I've heard it all. Firstly, there’s nothing deep about this man, other than his cash flow and secondly, you think he's scared? The man is an arrogant moron, end of."

"Everyone's scared of something, it's not that far fetched."

He leans in to you slightly. "That is a lie. You, my friend, are scared of nothing." He gets up from his bar stool, placing his hat on his head and downing the last of his drink. "The day I see you scared is the day the world ends. There's not a problem you can't get out of with your fists or your smart mouth." He laughs as he leaves the bar.

The irony is, there is one problem that would get infinitely worse with your fists and your smart mouth. Something that would have you terrified beyond imagination. Something you plan to hide from for the rest of your existence.

Five months since Namjoon moved to town.

You are back at his door, although this time you stand on the doorstep and pound angrily to be let in.

When he opens it, he looks hesitant. "You don't usually knock, just barging in is more you style rig-?"

"Why was there a man taking photos of me today?" The words leave your mouth in a furious rush, the need to be out and to hear another dreaded deal he's made. To prove yourself right about the type of man he is.

"What? You mean the photographer?"

You take a shaky breath to calm yourself. "That's usually what they do isn't it? Take photos?" You say between gritted teeth.

He frowns. "Well, yes, I don't understand why you're upset? I listened to you and told you I'm not building the mall, I've hired someone to take pictures of the town as it is, just to get business for my Hotel, and you're still upset with me!? Jesus, I can't win." He runs a frustrated hand through his swept back hair, forehead exposed - it suits him best that way.

You melt slightly under his accusing stare and suddenly you feel embarrassed by your reaction, it's not all anger, it's fear clenching your heart in its iron grasp. You want to scream, to run from it but you can't, it follows you. It followed you here and to the town you were in before. It will follow you wherever you are. You know this, you've accepted it and this is why you can't afford to get attached to someone, not romantically. It would cause too much heartache on both sides, when you'd eventually have to leave again.

"No, I'm not upset about that." You sigh and rub a hand across your eyes, exhaustion and exasperation weighing you down like a ton of bricks. "I just….I can't have my picture taken. Do what you want, but please, I'm begging you, do not put me in them." You stare at him with desperation, flitting from one eye to the other.

"Ok, ok." He says quickly, putting an arm on yours to reassure you. The touch soothes you for a moment and takes you by surprise.

"I'll make sure they delete the ones of you, ok? You have my word."

You see the honesty radiate from him and you relax. You're on the verge of tears with relief and happiness, the fear deflating as you stand here.

"Thank you!" You plead.

There's a moment of silence between you and you're not quite sure why you're still standing here.

"You know, if there's anything you ever want to tell me or talk about, you can trust me. I know I've not been great but I'll always be here if you need someone to lean on."

An odd warmth spreads through your chest, until you feel it's ready to burst. You can't help the smile that stretches across your lips.

"I know you can bear the brunt but sometimes it's nice to not have to." He adds, eyes wide and welcoming, enticing you with his earnest expression and the dimple that appears from his sideways smile.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, lips crashing against his with ferocious hunger. You feel him freeze against you before he returns it with feverish hands running down your back and cupping you under the buttocks, lifting your legs beneath you.

You wrap them tightly around his waist as he leads you quickly inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He doesn't make it up the stairs, the plush living room rug against your back a suitable substitute for his bedroom.

Your mouths dance, tongues interlacing all the while his hands are everywhere all at once, the heat from them setting your veins alight with fiery lust.

Your hands find his hair and your fingers run through his silky locks, using them to pull him even closer to you.

He moans into your mouth, the sound enticing you further.

"I want you so bad." he says in a breathless whisper.

You hook your leg over his and push him, flipping him on his back, straddling him.

You pull your button up off over your head and he groans when he discovers you aren't wearing a bra. His hands slide quickly up your waist to fondle your breasts, plunging his teeth into his generous bottom lip before he sits up and sucks a nipple into his mouth. A hiss escapes you as pleasure shoots straight to your core and has you grinding against his denim clad erection.

He cups the side of your face and brings you back down to his mouth, your lips meeting once again in a hot, fervent kiss.

His lips find their way to your ear. "Stand up."

There was no authority in his voice, just a soft pleading, one you could not resist. As you rise, his fingers were already undoing your jean buttons then pulling them down around your ankles and helping you step out of them.

On his knees looking up at you with heavy lids, as he places a faint kiss against your clothed sex. The sight of it heavenly, you couldn't help but admire his beauty, the sheer amount of it having escaped your notice before.

He slips a finger under your panties and pulls them aside, lips instantly on you, hot and wet, causing your head to snap back with explicit language echoing past your lips.

He chuckles against you, the vibration making you gasp as his tongue delves to your most sensitive parts, a venture no previous man has been. The sensation; mind blowing and you find yourself grinding against him. The relentless pace of his tongue against your swollen bud has you crying out, hands gripped into his hair as you come undone against his mouth. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting your trembling frame as your moans of ecstasy repeatedly fill the silence of the room.

As the spasms of pleasure subside, you're vaguely aware of Namjoon removing his trousers, his hand still in contact with your skin, as you drift back down from your euphoric cloud.

You mount him before he's finished pulling his pants from his ankles, his hands find your buttocks and guide you onto him. You lower yourself, sliding him into you.

He lays back, a look of pure adoration as he watches you wind your hips round, back and forth and up and down, until he's a writhing, moaning mess underneath you. His lips constantly find your skin, leaving moist trails, cold from the air, all over you.

Your bodies crashing against each other as you eagerly chase your end.

Feeling yourself tightening around him, coiled like a spring ready to bound into a new realm of elation.

"That's it baby, let go." He says softly, clinging onto your hips to keep you moving.

Your orgasm explodes, more intense than before, completely taking over you as you contract around him. He joins you, filling you with his warm seed, cradling you in his arms as you both ride out your spasms of bliss.

When your mind has returned to your body, you slump onto the rug, your bare bodies beside each other, as he turns towards your back his fingers skate over the large scar on your back. You go rigid for a moment, preparing yourself for his questions, attempting to scramble up a lie in your mind. His lips find the puckered pink skin and place a chaste kiss on it. His questions don't come, instead he wraps you in his arms and holds you close enough you can feel his pounding heart against you.

No words are exchanged. There isn't anything to be said but you feel everything and more in that moment.

Two weeks since you had sex with Namjoon.

"Very nice. You've really captured the beauty of the town in these." you smile at him and lay a gentle hand on his knee. Something he chooses not to ignore, placing his hand over yours while he continues clicking through the various pictures on his hotel website.

"Yea, the photographer did a really good job." he looks over to you, with a raised eyebrow. "So you approve of these?"

"Of course." you say, standing and grabbing your jacket draped across the stairway banister.

"That's a first." he teases, a smirk playing across his full lips, calling out to you as usual.

You drape your arms around his shoulders and place a slow kiss on his neck, the moan you entice from him has your lips smiling against his skin.

"Stay." he says quietly.

"I can't, I have to work." It's regretful but true. "Besides, I've been holed up in here for nearly two weeks. Time for a change of scenery."

He pouts as he takes your hand, pulling it towards his chest. "There's nothing wrong with the scenery here...especially when you're upstairs...in my bed...naked."

His eyes hold burning heat, pupils blown with longing and it sends throbbing lust right between your legs.

"How about, you think about me naked and in your bed...until I finish work, then I'll make up for all that torture." you reply, winking at him before your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss.

No one has ever kissed you like Namjoon. No one has given you this feeling...one you can't quite describe. For the first time in years, you feel completely yourself and...happy. Your chest swells when you look at him and you find it odd how someone you could hardly stand, now has such an effect on you.

"This evening is going to drag." he rolls his eyes. "I'll pick you up after work."

Your insides grin. Part of you wanted to keep him your dirty little secret and the other part wanted everyone to see you together.

You nod and plant one more kiss against his mouth, as you tear your body and your eyes away from him.

That’s when you see it.

Your face. On his screen. Bold as a summer's day.

Your stomach drops, turning into a lump of concrete inside you, weighing you down. Rage alights in you but betrayal counters it, racing through your veins in your shaking limbs and spilling out of your eyes in hot tears.

Namjoon follows your eye line and freezes. Neither of you move.

All you can do is stare at the smiling, care free photo of you, behind the bar. And all you can think of is, how many people have possibly seen this? Who has and what now?

He turns back to you, eyes wide and encased with a frown, a pleading hand outstretched towards you, as you realise you're backing up and heading to his front door.

"I didn't know." he says quietly.

"You promised me that I wouldn't be in any of them!" you yell, skin hot and your stomach churning. "I can't believe I let you fool me. I genuinely thought you were telling me the truth. How could you do this to me?"

Something flickers across his face but it's gone before you realise what it is, as he takes another step towards you. "I didn't do this!"

Your heart pounds in your ears, every part of you throbbing with treachery.

He drops his hand, sensing it's useless.

"Clearly your word means as little as I do to you." you close the distance between you, a finger pointing in his face. "If I ever see you in my bar, so help me, I'll make you unable to ride your horse for a very long time."

He opens his mouth to speak.

"I beg you, give me one reason." you spit, venom encasing every word. You storm out, feeling sick to your stomach. This is the man that you've been having the most amazing, passionate sex with for the last two weeks. You've been inseparable, opened yourself up to him in every way. Laid yourself bare and vulnerable for him.

You wanted to scrub yourself down, feeling like you've gone past enemy lines and turned against your own. He was a risk, you'd known that but had still let yourself get caught up in him. Believed in his lies. In him. You left him in the middle of the room, staring after you, getting in your truck and driving. After calling Jimin to cover you, you head to the next town, where you can be alone and drink until you forget.

Three months since Namjoon betrayed you.

You've been a wreck. For three months you've been constantly looking over your shoulder, sick to your stomach. Your emergency bag packed and hidden in your truck, should you need to flee. Your life shoved in that small leather bag. You didn't have much, that was clear to you but it seemed sadder than ever to have your most important things in one tiny holder. No one that would care when you were gone. Maybe Seokjin, but he'd forget about you eventually, any friends you make always do.

Namjoon had not been back into the bar, not while you were working anyway, you're not sure he'd have the guts. You had seen him fleetingly on a few occasions, his hopeful glances towards you rebuked by your impassive, stony face.

At some point Seokjin informed you, your photo had been removed from the website, Namjoon clearly trying to make amends for his deception - unsuccessful and useless attempts. You do not bend or yield to someone who has stabbed you in the back, you learnt that the hard way a long time ago...quite literally too.

You shrug into your jacket, noticing how much roomier it had become recently. Eating has not been high on the priority list when your stomach churns with anxiety and trepidation. You turn off the lights and head to the door of the bar, keys in hand.

A squeak from the hinges sounds into the silence, you look to see the doors wobbling slightly, the breeze catching it.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck are on end, goose bumps leave a bumpy trail across your skin. You're just being paranoid. No one's here. It’s just the wind.

Your feet move quickly to the doors, imagining you can hear following footsteps. Just as you reach your exit, a swift, sharp pull on your hair sends you slamming into the wooden boards.

A weight on top of you, pinning you down and unable to fight. A hand across your mouth to stop you from screaming and making it difficult to breathe.

His scent. It encases you, trapping you in another time and freezing you in those moments, those memories. The abusive days, the violent temper, the possessiveness, the cuts and bruises, the stabbing. Staring death in the face had been the final moment to give you the confidence to run, to escape but forever looking over your shoulder, forever living in fear.

Terror has taken over your body, not even trying to fight at this point.

"Did you miss me?" his sickly voice whispers in your ear.

Inside you're screaming, begging and pleading but nothing comes out into the silence, just the sound of his harsh, excited breathing.

"I knew I'd find you, knew it wouldn't be long until someone led me to you."

You could feel your limbs shaking wildly underneath him.

"You knew I'd find you didn't you? You led me here with that photo, I knew you missed me, baby." he kisses your forehead, your skin crawling beneath his lips.

"I'm going to take my hand away now, you're not going to scream, are you? You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

His words twist your insides in the most repulsive way as you nod your head.

His hand comes away, freeing your face and you gasp, desperately filling your lungs with air.

"It's so good to see your face, baby."

Your eyes, now adjusted to the dark, could make out his teeth, his lips pulled into a sinister smile.

"Will you at least let me sit up, Yoongi?" you ask, sounding much braver than you feel.

"You're not going to do anything stupid." he orders.

"No." your face is deadpan because it has to be, a slither of anything he deems untoward would make matters much worse for you.

Even as your brain frantically tries to find you a way out, any idea hitting an immediate dead-end, your face remains impassive.

He releases your wrists above your head and slowly climbs off of you, still crouched and ready to pounce should you run.

You had to be smart about this if you were going to get away, you had to think. THINK!

"You've been very bad, haven't you? Running from me like that. And I know you like playing games but I've not appreciated this hide and seek exchange between us. Four years I've been searching. That's a long time, baby." his menacing tone has you on edge, wondering just what he is going to do.

"You left me to die." you reply, recalling that night with a chill creeping up your spine. A knife in the back and for what, having said a few too many words to the corner shop owner, like 'how are you?'

You wonder what type of weapon he has on him tonight and you push the thought away.

He stares at you shocked, as if attempted murder is so far fetched from what he's capable of.

"Who do you think called the ambulance? I would never let you die, I would never let you leave me."

Lies. You knew a passer-by had rung the ambulance, had stayed with you until they came and had waited to hear your prognosis at the hospital. You even met them a few weeks later, when they brought you flowers. But for now he had to think you believed him.

"Is that what they told you?" he leaned in stroking your face and you had to swallow the recoil that your body reacted with.

"Is that why you've been running from me? Oh baby, you should have said and we could have had this all straightened out, wouldn't we, hm?"

He grips your chin, keeping it aimed directly at him, his fingers just forceful enough to leave bruises.

He watches your mouth, licking his lips. He wants to kiss you and you're preparing yourself for it.

"How many other men have been on these lips? How many have been inside them?" he sneers pushing his thumb, harshly inside your mouth, the taste bitter on your tongue. The Yoongi you know, well and truly here.

"No one."

"Don't lie to me." he squeezes your jaw, pain blazing underneath his fingertips causing a whimper to escape your lips.

The satisfied look in his eyes has bile rising in your throat.

"I'm not lying. You think I'd want another man anywhere near me."

He smiles, clearly not catching the bite in your words.

"If I find out different, there's going to be problems." he sing songs. "You understand?"

You nod and he releases your chin, harshly discarding you like a useless piece of meat.

He stands and offers a hand out to help you up. You want to spit at it and slap it out of your face but you shiver at the reaction that would bring.

You take it and he pulls you up, harsher than was necessary but you ignore it. He's on you, stalking towards you, backing you against the hard, wooden panels of the wall behind.

Your heart pounds violently, the sound all you can hear, you can hear your breathing spike as does his. He's excited, but you're trying to survive.

He closes the small amount of distance between you, his body pressed firmly against yours. One hand grabs your waist, pinning you harshly in place, the other travels to your throat. He keeps it there pressed lightly against your windpipe, not doing any damage but enough to show you the threat that's there. You swallow involuntarily.

The wind picks up outside and you hear the door wobbling, your attention back on it. How can you get to it?

You can hit him with something, but it would have to be hard enough to take him down and give you enough of a chance to run. Every thought seemed risky.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come with me willingly?" he raises an eyebrow at you.

"Yoongi, I can't just pick up and leave."

He adds a pressure to throat, fear rising up in you hot and fast.

You put your palms up. "I'm not saying no. I'm saying, I have a job here, people know me. If I get up and leave without a word, they'll think something awful's happened and that'll create problems for us."

He watches you for a moment, eyes thin and suspicious, you can practically see the cogs turning in his mind. "What do you suggest then?" Before you can even open your mouth, he adds. "I'm not leaving you."

"Why don't you stay here with me for a little while?" you can feel the sweat on the back of your neck, the idea of him being with you any longer than he has been already filling you with absolute horror.

"Then we can announce that I'm moving back with you."

"How can I trust you, after the way you've behaved?" his face is millimetres from yours suddenly, the tips of his noses touching.

"W-what do you want me to do to prove it to you?" you stammer, losing your composure momentarily.

"Kiss me. Like you used to." he smirks, knowing that towards the end of your relationship, touching him in any way had repulsed you, you hadn't kept that a secret.

You take a breath to steel yourself, if this is what you had to do…

Namjoon's shadowed face captures your attention as it appears just behind Yoongi's head and directly in your line of sight, holding - what looks like - a metal crowbar in the air. He nods to you.

The relief you feel cascades around your body, washing waves of solace through you, your skin tingling as your adrenaline spikes even higher. Everything seems much more hopeful in this moment and you've never been so happy to see Kim Namjoon.

Your eyes flash back to Yoongi, you could not lose it now, otherwise it's another person to be endangered by him.

You grab either side of his face, tilting your head, he closes his eyes as he prepares for your lips to touch his. He moans from anticipation, the sound bringing a fresh wave of nausea over you.

You meet Namjoon's eyes once more, watch him raise the crow bar higher, preparing to swing…

You push Yoongi's face as hard away from you as fast as you can muster and duck. Your eyes squeeze shut as you hear his gasp and then the noise of the metal connecting with his skull.

"Run! Go now!"

You do. Your legs charging forward before you even have a chance to process Namjoon's words to you. You push through the double doors, the cool night air hitting your skin and giving you added power to your legs. You race along the dirt path, hearing the ruckus ensue in the bar. You stop. Namjoon's face bloodied and bruised flashes in front of your eyes. An image you can't escape.

You couldn't leave him to deal with this man alone. You had to face your past. Face him, like you would face anyone else threating your life, or your town, or your friends. You yank out your phone and dial Seokjin's number.

"Do you know what time it is?" his voice thick with sleep sounds on the line.

'Jin, I need you to call the sheriff and come down to the bar! I'm in trouble. Bring your gun!" you hang up not giving him a chance to respond as you race back to Namjoon.

You throw open the doors and see the two men throwing punches in and out of tight holds as they roll around on the floor.

How could you get to Yoongi without hurting Namjoon?

You stand hesitating in the doorway.

But watching Yoongi take control and pin him down before connecting punch after punch, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, something inside you snaps.

You charge at him, bringing your foot up to connect with his face, the impact sending him flying backwards. By the sound, you're pretty sure you've broken his nose.

You crouch down to Namjoon as he sits up, wiping his bloody mouth on the sleeve of his plaid shirt.

"You ok?" you ask, eyes wide as they skim over his face, assessing him.

"What are you doing here!?" he exclaims, desperate eyes pleading with you to leave. "I told you to get out of here!"

You want to say so many things in that moment, looking at him and realising; he's got a good heart, even if it is a little misguided at times. Looking at him and realising all the unspoken feelings between you. From the moment you met him, he's been a disaster and every time he tried to be nice and make an effort you violently pushed him away to protect yourself. But you couldn't do it anymore. You cupped his purple marked face in your hand, wishing you could erase these marks, left because of you.

He leans into your hand, just for a moment before his attention is behind you. Grabbing your waist and pinning you to the floor before spinning on top of you, shielding you from the skull cracking snap of the gunshot. The deafening sound echoing in your ears, as pain sneaks through the hole in your left arm, the one underneath Namjoon's weighted, limp body.

Six months since the shooting, Christmas day.

Your first Christmas without the thought of Yoongi hanging over your head like a dark cloud, the kind that gives you headaches and makes your mind feel heavy and slow.

Seokjin had gotten there with Sheriff Jungkook just after the first shot rang out.

You don't remember everything but you do remember hearing the second shot clap like thunder around you, a split second of light illuminating the thick darkness, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

That was it, he was gone, no more looking over your shoulder, no more running and no more fear following you with every decision. The demise of Yoongi. You are free.

You feel lighter as you open the oven and baste the turkey once again.

"When is dinner going to be ready?" Seokjin whines from the sofa.

"Oh, have a little patience." you scold him.

You are more than grateful to have him with you at this time of year, seeing as neither of you have any family here, it's worked out nicely.

"I see Jimin is doing well after taking over Namjoon's Hotel." he remarks.

You nod. "Yep, business is going well for him. I'm glad. I will miss him at the pub though."

"What about Namjoon's house?"

Your hand stills, stopping stirring the vegetables bubbling away in the pan and a hard swallow slides down your throat. "What about it?"

"Is it going on the market?"

You glance over and notice him watching you from the corner of his eye.

"I'm not sure, it's not been discussed."

He nods carefully.

Footsteps down your stairs have your head turning towards them. The sight of him, bare chested, hair swept back effortlessly almost takes your breath away.

"We can discuss it now, if you like?" Namjoon teases you and places a kiss on the side of your head. "Seeing as you keep ignoring my question."

Seokjin sits bolt upright. "What's this? What question?"

You laugh. "Not that question!"

The disappointment across Jin's face is obvious.

"I keep asking her to sell this place and move in with me but I haven't had an answer yet." Namjoon watches you, an arrogant look on his face as he turns towards your guest.

The wrinkled, pink scar on his back greets your view, a perfect circle from where the bullet entered. He was lucky. You'd almost lost him before you even had him, before you realised how much you wanted, needed him.

You go toward him, wrapping your arms around his stomach. You go on tip-toes to kiss his scar. You match. Two scars in exactly the same place caused by the same person. In a sick way that connected you forever and the thought brought you comfort somehow.

Namjoon had saved your life, endangering his in the process. Now it's you who would protect him from anything.

"Yes." you say quietly against his back.

He turns, wrapping you in his arms.

"What?"

You look up at his bewildered face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

His face blooms into the most beautiful smile, making your insides flutter. He brings his lips crashing down against yours, a kiss that takes your breath away and makes you giddy.

This is the true start to your life, after existing for many years you're now truly living, with the sound of Seokjin's cheers and hollas in the background.

134 notes · View notes

eddiealfano · 3 years

Text

Why I Finally Got This Stupid Vaccine

I finally got this stupid vaccine. Didn’t want it. Probably didn’t need it. But I got the stupid thing. I didn’t, “burst into tears of joy” as some of my more dramatic friends emotionally posted on Social Media after their vaccination. I didn’t worry that Bill Gates was one step closer to his grand plan to reduce the population, as some of my other dramatic friends warned me. I only felt apathy.

I am 45-years-old. I lift weights. I run sprints. I eat a diet consisting of food that is intended for human consumption. I do literally hundreds of things to take care of my personal health and well-being. I am the guy my friends call when they have questions related to all things fitness. I don’t believe in, “Western Medicine Solutions” for problems that can be solved naturally. Needless to say, I wasn’t excited to get a vaccine for something like Covid.

My Pandemic experience was probably different than yours. While I watched friends, neighbors and loved ones react in fear and hysteria, I had zero concern about getting Covid. I didn’t buy hand sanitizer. I didn’t “social distance’’ from anyone. I traveled frequently. I kept hugging my 84-year-old parents. I only wore those silly masks in situations where businesses required me to do so.

Am I reckless? Do I simply not care about humanity? Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m someone who realized very early on what this virus actually is: A disease of the metabolically unhealthy. Unfortunately, the Archaic Science of 2021 cannot figure that out. Or perhaps the Politics of 2021 won’t allow the Archaic Science of 2021 to figure that out. But it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to look at data readily available at Google.com to see that this disease astronomically disproportionately affects the elderly and the unhealthy.

Before the, “But you can still get it even if you’re healthy!!” crowd blows a gasket, I’m sure someone who fits my health profile could theoretically get hospitalized or even die from Covid. Just like they could get hit by a coconut falling from a palm tree. I don’t live in fear of those odds. I know people who’ve been hospitalized with Covid. I know people who’ve died. Not a single one of them was what I would term “healthy.” I haven’t even anecdotally heard a story of someone having a difficult time with Covid who met my definition of “Actually Healthy.” But that’s probably because less than 5-percent of Americans would meet my definition of “Actually Healthy.” And that’s a real problem. It’d be great if “The Science” were doing something to help solve that problem.

On that note, what about The Almighty Science? Here’s the thing: Historically, it’s wrong a lot. Especially when it comes to human health. If I trusted The Science, I’d still be eating a “heart-healthy” high-carb, low-saturated-fat diet as described by the wonderful Food Pyramid. I’d be avoiding egg yolks while enjoying my fat-free muffins and canola oil. Heck, I’d even be sure to minimize my consumption of the most nutrient-dense food known to man. That’s red meat, in case you were still trusting The Science and not trusting millions of years of human history, Intuition and Common Sense. Fortunately, I stopped blindly trusting The Science when it comes to my own health and it has made me much healthier than any Scientist or Doctor I’ve ever met.

I approached this Pandemic the same way I do Flu Season or any other time of year when, “something is going around.” I focused on taking care of my health and making myself a less desirable host for viruses. I didn’t turn other people into loaded weapons that could harm me. I didn’t cross the street when I saw a stranger walking my way. And I certainly didn't try to “kill the virus” with absurd solutions like hand sanitizer or Lysol spray.

So if I feel this strongly against the mainstream narrative regarding health and Covid, why did I get this stupid vaccine? Was it because of all the virtue signalling from Politicians and friends on Social Media telling me to, “do my part?” No, that just made me want it even less. I already “do my part” by keeping myself healthy and not falling victim to viruses in the first place. I don’t need someone eating a free Krispy Kreme Donut holding their vaccine card and telling me what I should do to keep America healthy. And I definitely don’t need someone who relies on Western Medicine for all their health concerns telling me how stupid the unvaccinated are.

So it must have been “The Highly Contagious Delta Variant” that finally made me get the vaccine, right? Do a shot every time you hear that phrase mentioned on the news and you’ll be passed-out drunk by 8:30 AM. And no, it wasn’t the highly contagious Delta variant. It’s clearly a weaker variant of Covid. I mean, trust The Science on that, right? I guess that’s the least interesting detail about the Delta Variant and why should we stop the media’s fear-mongering panic party just because of details?

So why did I end up getting this stupid vaccine?

Because I ultimately don’t think it’s that big of a deal. When I realized my future employers would more than likely be instituting vaccine mandates, I started researching how I could get a Religious exemption. I was ready to die on this hill of not letting people less healthy than me tell me how to take care of my body. But then I realized I was fighting a battle I didn’t even want to fight. Why was I suddenly so against getting a vaccine? I’d gotten every other mandated vaccine and never gave it much thought. Sure this one was rushed and it's for a disease I don’t fear, but that doesn’t change the fact that I do believe in vaccines and their importance to human history.

I’ve had lots of conversations with people in the “anti-vax” community. They range from some of the smartest, educated people in the Health & Fitness world to some of the craziest loons you will ever meet. There is a genuine conversation we should be having about vaccines, but it is getting hijacked by the wild conspiracy theories. Are there unknown side-effects to vaccines that the Archaic Science of 2021 does not understand? Of course there are. There’s no such thing as a “biological free ride.” You don’t get to use Western Medicine without consequences. This is true of antibiotics. It’s true of pain medications. It’s true of every aspect of Western Medicine, and that obviously includes vaccines.

But do I think vaccines will be the “smoking gun” that we find out about in the future and they wonder what in the hell those crazy folks back in 2021 were thinking? No. That will probably be cellphones. Or genetically modified foods. Or any number of the overly-prescribed prescription drugs half our population has no problem popping every day. I don’t know why we are singling out vaccines as “the thing.” We may eventually learn of new side-effects, but I don’t think they will be any worse than what we discover about all these other stupid things we currently have no problem doing.

I have good friends who don’t want to get this vaccine. A lot of people I love. And unfortunately, a lot of them are unhealthy. I mean, REALLY unhealthy. Some are cancer survivors. Some eat fast food every day. Some smoke cigarettes. Some take multiple prescription drugs. Whatever your thoughts on vaccines, for God’s sake, can we agree these people are better off with the unknown risks of the vaccine than the risk of getting Covid? I’ve been encouraging these friends to get the vaccine and it was making me feel like a hypocrite for not getting it myself. How can I recommend something, say it is mostly safe, but be unwilling to take it myself? And if the Conspiracy Theorists are right and Bill Gates IS out to get us… he’s going to get us. If not with the Covid vaccine, then with the next Windows update. Or he’ll poison our drinking water. We simply can’t win against an evil Bill Gates, folks.

So that’s why I got this stupid vaccine. I genuinely didn’t think it was worth all the energy I was putting into resisting it. I’m not one to back down from a battle, it’s just gotta be a battle I truly believe in.

I don’t care if you get vaccinated or not. I don’t need you to do so in order for me to feel safe. It should be your own personal decision. But have your reasons in line with the reality of the risks of vaccines and the risks of Covid itself. Or don’t. It’s ultimately your choice.

Stay healthy everyone.

#health fitness StayHealthy Meathead

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rpbetter · 3 years

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Hey there, check out this pinned post first!

Thanks for visiting Roleplay Better, where I believe that you can fucking do better! That kind of language, however, is why it is important for you to read this post before proceeding.

This blog and its posts are meant for an adult RPing audience; be over legal, adult age in the USA, 18+. Do not interact by submitting, asking, reblogging, commenting, or liking unless you are over eighteen years of age. By interacting with RPB or me, Vespertine, you are assumed to be following this rule. If you are breaking this rule, you will be blocked.

I have that rule because this blog can/will/does address topics inappropriate for a younger audience. Those can include, but are not limited to:

not safe for work - violence, injury, sexual language, smut, substance use

“dark topics” and themes like violence, unhealthy relationships, mental illness, trauma, graphic injury, dubious consent, substance use, and so forth addressed realistically

foul, sexual, and otherwise “Adult” language

unpopular opinions and approaches about writing, RP, fandoms

“negativity” since literally anything can be, and my whole point here isn’t about holding back; it is likely that, at some point, in some post or another, a shoe will fit you-you need to be mature enough to handle that without taking it as a personal attack on you

images and links that may contain things inappropriate for a younger audience

this blog is founded upon the idea that fiction has reflections in reality, but that fiction does not utterly equate to reality. You should write with realism, your characters should be people in their own right, and you should absolutely be addressing many popular topics responsibly, which is to say realistically. I do not support or otherwise condone purity culture, so while realism is a big deal here, fiction = reality arguments are a no

seriously, you have no idea how fucking salty I am! I try to be fair, reasonable, and mellow with everyone, but it can and does come out.

This blog tags for common, major triggers, but it is not for those easily triggered or particularly sensitive. By proceeding, you take responsibility for yourself...like a mature adult. I expect you to utilize blacklist, unfollow, and block. Tag format is simple, it is literally just the word in most cases, with “cw” and “tw” added to particularly common things. Example, a post containing a breakdown of forms of dubcon will be tagged #dubcon #dubious consent. If that was specifically of a sexual nature, since tumblr is unfriendly to using Not Safe For Work now, I will be using #notsafe for sexual topics. In the event that this needs to change, it will be posted about, the previous tag left intact, so that you may update your blacklist.

You are always welcome to send me an ask or private message requesting a particular trigger be tagged for you. I try to check blogs I see following, especially if I follow back, so that I can tag what you require. However, I’m a person, I’m an ND, ill, busy person though, I do make mistakes!

If you find yourself desirous of telling me to tag in a hateful way, don’t. You will not be responded to with an apology and kindness. Do not be rude, it’s uncalled for when informing someone of a problem or making a request.

I will run the blog largely on a queue, and will not be following many people back. This is not personal! I just like to try to provide content at many different times, have a life elsewhere, and I am so happy that you love your fandom, but it might not be something I’ve enough interest in to have on my dash.

Don’t tumblr message me. Use the inbox or submit.

Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

Aggressive inbox messages will be responded to in kind. I don’t care if you are on anon or not, if you haven’t an ounce of polite communication skills, I won’t have them either. This is not a “we don’t publish anon hate” blog.

I highly encourage asks and submissions on any and all RP topics, and it’s perfectly alright to be salty as fuck in them, you can totally vent here, but don’t take out your frustration on me or be demanding of me. I am always happy to help with information, advice, or just a response to your venting-it’s important to know someone is listening. However, it may take me a few days to a week to get to you, be patient.

If you are going to vent, leave out usernames. This isn’t a callout or burnbook blog. It’s fine to state characters and fandoms, but if this becomes a problem, it’ll have to change. I don’t want this becoming a salt blog for one or two fandoms I very likely can’t even stand. Practice the fine art of alluding to things, its good experience for your writing! Besides, RPC problems are RPC problems, I promise. It might feel like it’s just your fandom, but there is something relatable in all corners.

I will not overly police comments. Keep the slurs and shit out of it, though. If there is an issue going on pertaining to a serious instance of hate speech, or behavior I, personally, deem as too inappropriate and/or immature to be taking place on my post, I will step in. Otherwise, I expect everyone to be adults in the comments and reblogs too. If you want to argue with each other, that’s your business. If you want to argue with me, I’m not sorry in advance.

Addition to the above: this is not a blog in which it will be tolerated that commentators or those submitting with the URLS are targeted for callouts, shaming, or other instances of bullying. No, I cannot make those people stop bothering you by blocking them, but the least I can do is address that by shutting down their access to this blog and it’s posts by blocking on the URLs I have for them. And I will. Fuck that “we can’t be responsible for” shit. It’s my blog, it’s my content I’m putting out there, I’m not going to just ignore shit like what went down over on COAR, thanks. Not. Cool.

This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

anti-original character/just wants to fuck a FC or canon character club, get the fuck out immediately

y’all who see writing as an obstacle to getting down to action, be that smut, drama, or fight scenes...it’s literally a writing hobby

politics, any manner of phobe or ism, violent/non-inclusive feminists, purity/rpc/fandom/content police of any manner, and exactly any manner of racism, sexism, or religious intolerance - I give not a shit if it’s popular to hate the straights, for example, I neither believe in nor tolerate reactionary classifying of any group as blanket-statement evil

people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

#pinned post #tumblr rpc #rph #rp help #rp advice #rpbetter

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