The piece I made for the yugioh horror zine P.O.S.S.E.S.S.E.D. The dark lord Zorc Necrophades rises under the red sky of Kul Elna (or something like that idk it’s been two years. Link in the comments)
if a hand kiss isn’t done with either reverent trembling and closed eyes or with a certain slow sensuality and direct ‘fuck me’ eye contact, you are wasting my time and everyone else’s
[id: a screenshot of a tweet by hugo reinert @metaleptic. tweet reads “new office neighbor has a very sensible office door policy,” followed by a photograph of a printed sign taped to a door. sign reads:
Dear visitor:
In order to protect my concentration and sanity I have decided to implement a door policy:
Door open: very welcome to knock and come in, yes I would love to have a chat!
Door closed: Please do not knock at my door or come in unless you have urgent business.* I am extremely easily distracted and I will talk to you until the end of time instead of writing my dissertation.
i hate all the people who go like “ohh van gogh is overrated” or “you just like van gogh cause it’s popular”. yeah? so what? can’t i like stuff that a lot of people like? can’t you admit that dude is an amazing painter and deserves every single fucking ounce of recognition? shut up, please. i’m falling in love with the starry night all over again wheter you find that good or not, bitch
I think we should write unnecessary sequels to public-domain classics.
I wanna read Dracula 2: Sherlock Holmes and the Curse of Dracula’s Ghost. I wanna read Pride and Prejudice 2: Elizabeth Has a Gun.
This is literally Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
No, it’s not. P&P&Z is a re-imagining of the original plot, not a sequel. I want to give Elizabeth a gun after the events of the first novel are concluded.
who would Elizabeth have beef enough to kill over with?
Idk, I haven’t actually read P&P since school and I honestly don’t remember it all that well, but that’s the magic of writing unnecessary sequels to public-domain works. It could be whoever we want it to be.
George Wickham.
Lydia comes to Pemberley for a visit, sans her husband because Darcy will not let that man set foot in their house after what he did to Georgiana. And she’s just as bubbly as usual, just as chatty. Until Darcy makes his excuses and leaves the two sisters sitting in front of the fire, and after a slight pause Lydia informs Lizzy that she can’t imagine how she manages to stay happy with a man so serious and grim as Darcy.
Lizzy, who knows her husband well enough by now, and that he was, in fact, smiling for most of dinner, tells her that they are well suited for each other and she is light enough for both of them.
After another pause, Lydia turns dark serious eyes to her eldest sister and asks in a tremulous, “Is he cruel to you too?”
Because we know George Wickham. We know what he is. He’s the man who tried to seduce a fifteen year old girl (Georgiana) for her fortune. He’s the man who ran off with Lydia Bennet, then also fifteen and the youngest of five sisters, knowing her family would be forced to give him her dowry and pay for them to marry her or else she’d be ruined. All the sisters would. And Lizzy knew, she knew the man was a rake and a cad. She’d even seen the way he yanked her arm in the carriage that first time they came home after their elopement. But somehow she’d still hoped that he’d try to make her happy. That hope is dead now.
Though not as dead as Wickham’s about to be.
It would be quite easy, she thinks, to make it look like a hunting accident. But then she wouldn’t get to see the fear in Wickham’s eyes. She wants him to know, you see. She wants to watch the charm and bravado drain from his face as he hears the pistol cock and realizes his final fatal error. Because while it might be a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife, there is yet another greater universal truth he failed to recognize.
Don’t fuck with the Bennet sisters; they will end you.
