I literally got on here for @txrncoat
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I hopped onto this blog to say hi to everyone!~ It’s been like 5 years since I got on here and I mean it’s pretty obvious this blog is dead but I might return some day. In the meanwhile, catch me on @iuriis !! I’m very active over there and it’s my main blog right now. c:
despotiiing reblogged
I hopped onto this blog to say hi to everyone!~ It’s been like 5 years since I got on here and I mean it’s pretty obvious this blog is dead but I might return some day. In the meanwhile, catch me on @iuriis !! I’m very active over there and it’s my main blog right now. c:
I hopped onto this blog to say hi to everyone!~ It’s been like 5 years since I got on here and I mean it’s pretty obvious this blog is dead but I might return some day. In the meanwhile, catch me on @iuriis !! I’m very active over there and it’s my main blog right now. c:
HANNAH EXPLAINS MOUNTAIN DEW CODE RED
@russodancer EXPLAINS ME THIS SHIT
despotiiing reblogged
осада.
For once he harboured no desire to drag the conversation out further—when there were five hundred other things running through his mind—pain and masked desperation at the forefront—there was no need for words. Conversation now was a vain attempt to silence one’s own fears and foster the misguided belief that everything was okay.
——One did not listen to the symphony of destruction and walk away UNAFFECTED.
The gravity of the situation was painfully clear when a a man who boasted a exponentially high threshold for pain faltered in his once proud strides. When each step betrayed weakness—the fleeting hesitation where it was ANYBODY’S guess if the next step would support his weight or send him toppling to the ground with everything just outside the window.
It might as well have been another world.
Panicked voices and discordant cries of his fellow men failed to reach his ears as he concentrated solely on reaching their destination. Twice he paused in his steps, hands never leaving his side to seek support as he waited out the particularly jarring effects of certain devastation. Ice, ice he could handle—the deceiving burn as one’s fingers slowly shifted from blue, to purple, to black, lethargy, the loss of mobility and finally feeling as colour and life slipped away, but FIRE? A Nation’s blood was meant to sing with the fires of patriotic fervour, not the searing pain of their land and people devoured by the burning jaws of humanity’s personal destroyer.
——What was worse? The unbridled fear and hopelessness surging through him from his people? The physical pain growing worse and worse with each building levelled and life lost?
Not a single other soul could have provided him any comfort as they finally entered the room, and so they were all tuned out, his focus solely on maintaining composure and whatever words so kindly offered by a man who would never understand—who never truly did. Anger, pain, betrayal—a myriad of emotions swirled within those violet hues, representative of not only his own current affliction, but the world outside this pitiful excuse for a safe-haven. The first person to openly panic would likely be ripped into via harsh words and the painful reality that complaining solved no problems, followed by threats and forced removal from the room if the behaviour continued.
Slowly he folded his arms across his chest, watching his boss—leader; was such a title even WORTH anything now?—fixate himself with that map. The map that could very well be empty, wiped clean, growing more and more desolate as it was filled, leaving only—–
ENOUGH OF THAT.
“It had better be sooner rather than later, for we are all aware that time is of the ESSENCE and we do not have the luxury of deliberation under these circumstances.” Maintaining civility was not going to be an easy task. “What we need to do is damage control and escort as many civilians as we can to safety, not attempt anything else unless you are planning on exploding each bomb before they reach the ground.”
He paused. “How bad is the pain? The pain is unlike anything you could ever fathom, sir, and I would not be surprised. Any destruction to Moscow will be more significant to my person than that suffered by other cities, but it all affects me regardless. I would not stop at the capital. Why would they?”
He listened to Ivan and felt his face twitch for a second. He was right yet again. Why the Hell would they stop at just the capital? He should’ve supposed the same, but it was still that burning hope inside of him that wanted to keep the fire alive. But what good is it now? He was sure everyone around him knew that by now it was pointless almost. Right now they needed to worry about other things such as the civilians or to mobilize again. But how do they mobilize? With what? Shattered armies that were all over the place? That was going to be a tricky task, obviously.
“--------Braginsky is right about one thing, the civilians should probably be escorted out of the city first, or anywhere in the shelters for that matter. Though the next crucial thing is to gather the army again. They struck us with air attacks first, so obviously they’re coming on land next time. Tanks are not going to be alien to us sooner or later. But we can’t let them get past the borders. No, not now. Not when we’re this to collapsing anyways.”
He announced. Everyone was quiet for a second, but sooner than later the outburst came and everyone, for a second, started to argue over this. Khodorkovsky sat there stunned for a moment. No one registered the leader whilst the quarrel lasted, but he was quick to be fed up with it. He slams his hand on the table a few times, to cut everyone off and shut them up. This was going to go nowhere if everyone was just going to start talking over one another like that. Khodorkovsky scoffed in displeasure, glaring at everyone.
“--------If all of you could just stop for a FUCKING moment and speak in line we’d get somewhere. Sullivan, you obviously looked opposed to what we both said, so what’s the problem?” Khodorkovsky asked, tilting his head and still keeping up the stern look he wore. He wasn’t surprised on one hand that Cirus was against what he and Ivan suggested about the civilians, but Khodorkovsky knew as it is that it was completely useless to take too much advice from him anyways. But what can he do when he has to listen to everyone? That was his job, however ironic it may sound.
Cirus, of course, doesn’t waste much time before he opens his mouth to speak. “--------Well no-duh, why worry about them now when it’s obviously gonna cost us more time? He suggested it like it was going to be done in a click of two fingers. And since we already agreed last time to send children to back-up the war front, why isn’t it a good idea to get every healthy and mobile person to start defending this Hell-hole? Cause believe it or not we barely have any soldiers close by to Moscow or within Moscow to defend ourselves from any of those enemy troops. Tell me again, how evacuation is important right now?”
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@despotiiing || ‘You’re fucked from birth.’
( IMMEDIATELY, MIKE’S MOUTH GIVES WAY TO A KNOWING SMILE. Finally, somebody he doesn’t have to pretend around; at least… not as much. Grey eyes shift their empty gaze onto the man who had spoken, a brow perking. Is this personal and he’s missed something? Hopefully not. )
“Me? OOOr mankind?”
( WELL HE CERTAINLY IS PECULIAR. He’s been peculiar since he’s seen him for the first time. He’s, quite frankly, not even surprised someone would lable this one just a pure loony. )
“--------Yes, you. To say mankind would imply everyone on this earth right now---- and I’m sure you can agree with me there’s better people than you around.”
despotiiing reblogged
one thing is for sure. this new leader was much more open, much less intimidating. olaf remembers trying to choke back words. he remembers sweating profusely whenever their old leader would walk in the door. the cowering, the shaking. and for some strange reason, the old leader always smelled like fresh food. he was so big and hardy. he always got more hungry whenever he was around. the dancer hated it so much, being so anxious all the time, walking around on eggshells.
he was happy, though. that the policies that great leader had are still around. he was afraid that he would be even MORE hungry, and MORE poor than he was now. dancing is great, but they were happy with the wage they got( even though everybody else received the same amount, the dancing men always seemed to run out of it faster ). he would be afraid of khodorkovsky, if the man would change their wage to anything lower.
he smiled back and extended his hand one more time. one was out and ready to shake and the other was at his side, loosely curled in a fist.
❝ — I am Olaf! And I am having an abundance of last names, through many work over the years. However, Great Leader – o-or, I am sorry – Khodorkovsky. It is taking large amount to get used to that, aheh… Heh heh …❞
looking nervous, olaf drew his hand back and rubbed the back of his head, eyes looking left and right. now the loose fist was stretched out in front of him. it shook somewhat, but olaf knew better than to go without manners.
gosh, he was being so ridiculous. he was still afraid of the gulags. still afraid of the intimidation great leaer pooti would give off. with a gulp, the dancer continued.
❝ — My last name is Spiesalotski, c - comrade.❞
❝ -------- That is interesting. The next person I’d think of to have more than one name is Alexandra Feodorovna herself, or perhaps miss Marie Antoinette. ❞
maybe it’s just him but this was a tad bit of dark humor, and evidently, his taste as well. he gives away a small bit of a grin, noting how nervous olaf seems to be around him. or at least, that’s probably the first thing that he noticed when he started talking to him. yet he wasn’t too surprised. he knew the kind of iron fist the previous leader had on the land. yet to khodorkovsky he was still a poor excuse for a leader, if he’d have to be honest.
yet a part of him reminds himself of machiavelli's words. and yes indeed, fear was what kept one going at times. to be a ruler without fear was what could possibly lead to a downfall, one way or another. yet to be a leader everyone shook in their boots because of was perhaps even worse. perhaps if there is a clear limit in ones totalitarian rule, there could be something good out of it.
he refuses to believe that decades ago, they would’ve won the second world war had it not been for the trepidation of stalin’s leadership.
❝ -------- It’s my pleasure to meet you, tovarish Spiesalotsky. You’ve a...interesting name. And since we’re at it, no formalities will be needed. We’re---- ❞ He takes a second to just make a small hand gesture. ❝ -------- Tovarischi. Yes. And come now, loosen up a bit, you’re nearly sweating. ❞
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I give it a solid B+
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Hell is a place on earth. Heaven is a place in your head.
David Wojnarowicz, from Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration (via lifeinpoetry)
despotiiing reblogged
❛ he IS real. ❜ it’s his first reaction - an instinct one would call it. ❛ if he’s not real, how come he just disappeared all of a sudden ? whatever fucked up shit i’ve got going on up here - ❜ & he gestures to his head. ❛ - they say that’s what kept him around. that shit isn’t gone, yet he is. it doesn’t make SENSE. ❜ he then lets out a soft sigh. ❛ besides … i haven’t seen him for five years, so why am i SUDDENLY here now ? i don’t need this … ❜
❛ ——– because i believe everyone is SCARED that one day you’re simply going to burst. you see you’re incredibly closed off, if i had to tell you anything. & being so isolated will no get you anywhere. five years you’ve gone by, but you must’ve, at least once, had a moment of WEAKNESS because dylan was not there anymore. & the fact you speak in that sort of a way about dylan ---- it is clear that you are still in need of help. but how many i give you help if you are so resistant to it, jaydon ? ❜
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【黒魂】==> “Sorry if I offended you, I was just mirroring your expression,” Kuro snarled.
He was not in the mood for this right now.
“--------Yes only I would’ve thought I’d be greeted a little more warmly around here rather than with that. I knew I should’ve just telegramed Abe.” He sighs, looking away for a second. He often times has to deal with Kiki, so no wonder he’d end up also having to deal with this peasant.
“--------Does Kiki come as anything to you?” Probably a sister.
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In loving him, I saw men encouraging each other to lay down their arms. In loving him, I saw small-town laborers creating excavations that other men spend their lives trying to fill. In loving him, I saw moving films of stone buildings; I saw a hand in prison dragging snow in from the sill. In loving him, I saw great houses being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life.
David Wojnarowicz, from Close to the Knives: A Memoir of Disintegration (via lifeinpoetry)
despotiiing reblogged
kcnighoe :
WAS this really the right place?
IT didn’t take more than his first couple of steps into the dilapidated hospital for Gilbert to start doubting that this was really the place he was meant to be. Scrunching his nose into a frown, scarlet eyes turned to stare down at the crumpled note that lay in his hand; reading over the scribbled directions given to him by one of the locals he asked directions from earlier. Unless the poor man was mistaken ( or unless he suddenly lost his ability to navigate and read directions properly ), then he should be in the right place.
SURE enough, when he stepped towards the reception desk, nearly all of his second-guessing was forgotten once he mentioned his son’s name ( ‘I was told I could find Doctor Khodorkovsky here?’ – The surprise that crossed the woman’s features was something that boggled him, somewhat ) and was lead to a small office on the first floor. The receptionist informed him that the Doctor was just attending to some business and would be informed of his visit and with after he gave her his word of thanks, she scurried back towards the front desk; leaving him to his own devices.
SCARLET eyes cast themselves about the room, observing everything from the framed credentials hanging on the walls, to the neatly arranged work desk that he sat in front of. It had been years since he last saw either Scepan or Svetlana and Gilbert figured that it was about time he visited his children again. Fingers drumming on the armrests, the German perked up slightly when he heard the light pitter-patter of footsteps towards him, but before he could turn around to see who it was, he found himself wrapped in an unexpected embrace. Usually, sudden touches like that would get nothing short of a flinch and even a slap from him - But one whispered word stopped him in his tracks —
— FATHER.
“SUßE…?” The affectionate nickname slipped past his mouth before he could stop it ( he always called her sweetie ), rising from his seat and turning around so he could face his daughter. It wasn’t long before a wide smile lit up the man’s face as he threw his arms around Svetlana, pressing her close to his chest ( the way he always did back when she was small ) as they embraced, “My God, it’s been too long! I didn’t expect to see you here!”
HE remembered here. The most she had been worried was the possibility of getting slapped away from him, shoved or even yelled at. She can’t remember the last time that Gilbert struck her or scolded her too much, even when it could’ve happened. What he said instead and what she was met with was what she did remember though, something she lived for, something she has not felt in so long. Something she wanted to feel. Yuki was one of the only decent people around here but even when she hugged her it was nothing to how Gilbert’s embrace worked.
THAT was definitely what forced a few tears out. Her shoulders shook within his hold but her sobbing and tears were silent, she wouldn’t dare let herself be so weak in front of her father. She never cries in front of Scepan---- so what gives now? She didn’t know, but here and there she just had to raise her hand to wipe her eyes. To try and get all of those watery streams out of the way, but they just kept coming. She didn’t know how to explain any of this sadness. She should be overjoyed to see him. And she was, on one hand, but on the other she was in devastation that it has come to this. That the only reunion he gets with her is that when she is skinny like a twig, when she is dirty and when she is almost better left in a grave. Thank the Gods she still kept some of her features in tact. Such as her ebony hair and her emerald eyes.
“--------FA--PAPA----” She choked out when she got to pull back, after that long and painful hug. She sniffs for a second, possibly the first sound of anguish he’d heard so far that were not her words. “--------Papa I’m---- what are YOU doing here?” She wondered because she’s been here for at least 4 years now and she doesn’t even remember the last time she’s gotten out of her bedroom. Not because she didn’t want to, but because it was obvious that she was not authorized to do so. Why would anyone ever want to take a step inside of this 10th circle of Hell?
SHE wipes her eyes one more time, pulling back a sniff and taking a deep breath. She felt so unpleasant to have to look like this in front of him, and especially now that the hug wasn’t hiding anything.
“--------I MISSED you papa.”
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lehiobeltza-aaa-deactivated2017
Helmut Schmidt :'''))))
