Spin The Crazy DARE Wheel Challenge | Zhong & Kat

seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Italy

seen from Italy
seen from Italy
seen from China

seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from India

seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from Germany
Spin The Crazy DARE Wheel Challenge | Zhong & Kat
#Darechallenge #Rasekosebengali #Darechallengepart2 গত ভিডিও তে তোমরা যেভাবে support করেছিলে এবং অনেক এ অনেক suggestion দিয়েছিলে আমাদের ভিডিও আরও ভালো করার ...
REALITY.
Beatrice had never hated the color of cream so much, staring blankly at the wall on the other side of the room, the same wall that she had stared at once a week, every week, for the last five. It struck her as the kind of color that tried to look peaceful, inviting, but it was just the opposite. It made her feel nauseous, like everything else inside the room. Including the woman staring at her from the seat of her chair, clipboard in hand, lips pursed, she could only see her out of the corner of her eye but she wanted to punch her all the same. Her hands balled into fists at her side.
“Bea,” the woman began, it wasn’t the first time today she had tried to coax words from her but it was the first time she had succeeded, eyes narrowed at the shortened version of her name falling from the lips of this stranger. That was all she was. A stranger. She was cut off before she could continue.
“You don’t get to call me Bea.” She didn’t know why she said it, she didn’t care what the woman called her, still the words came out and she made no move to stop them. “My friends call me Bea.” What friends? “You call me Beatrice.”
“Beatrice,” the woman corrected, her tone and her expression level as she spoke, no amount of irritation showing through her sickeningly sweet voice or her plastic smile – if it could even be called a smile. It looked more like a lipstick painted scowl. “Your mother tells me you are continuing to have outbursts. She said they are becoming more… frequent. Tell me, what do you think is causing them?”
“I don’t know.” She had told her this far too many times. This was a question she would never have the answer to. Anger flared and still, she did not know why. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? Hadn’t she always wanted her parents to care enough to help, to try to understand? But it was not helping, she had made no progress, and no one understood. No one could fix her. It had been a few months now and they had gotten nowhere, repetitive trips to doctors that swore on their lives that nothing was wrong with her mind, five sessions with this woman and she sat with fists still resting by her side, glare on the window now as tears threatened to fall. “If I knew, do you think I would fucking be here?”
“That’s alright, Beatrice.” She wrote something down, as if this was new information, as if it needed to be documented. Nails dug into the palms of Bea’s hands, oh, did she want to punch this woman, whatever her name was. She didn’t remember. She didn’t care. “How do you feel right now?” Her voice was unbelievably soft. “Angry?”
She could lie, but her hands gave her away, the way she was sitting, there was no point in lying. She had nothing to hide, even if talking about her feelings was tiring. “I guess so.”
“And what is it that’s making you angry?”
“Everything.” Her gaze flickered from the window to the pen pressed into the paper. “I guess I’m angry at... everything. Everyone. My parents. God. Me. You.” It was the little things that set her off, her eyes narrowed as she looked back to the woman, barely pausing, “You, you, you. Writing down everything I’m saying when it’s-- this is fucking useless. Clicking your stupid fucking pen. If there is something wrong with me, why haven’t you figured it out yet?”
She couldn’t stop herself, suddenly on her feet, yanking the clipboard from her hands before she knew what was happening, throwing it on the ground, kicking it, stomping it as if all the blame fell on this piece of wood. She may have had some serious pent up anger. A hand came to rest on her shoulder but she flinched away, she should be proud of herself for not resorting to violence on another human being. Instead she fell to her knees, ripping off the paper her psychologist -- or therapist or whatever she was -- had been scribbling on.
Ripping it to shreds.
“Beatrice,” she heard her name but it didn’t register, neither did the voice, maybe she would have stopped if she’d realized her mother had came in, terrified she was going to hurt herself. At least she was only ripping up paper this time, she wasn’t destroying her whole room. She wasn’t breaking glass. Just violently shredding the remains of her last conversation, she couldn’t stop.
“Beatrice! Beatrice, baby, look at me,” she was practically pleading as she moved in front of her daughter, her fingers wrapped around the young woman’s wrists tightly, hoping that the familiar touch would bring her back to earth. It seemed to work, seconds later recognition painted her features, a fistful of paper falling to the floor. “It’s me, baby. It’s me,” her voice softened, loosening her grip, she knew she had broken through, “it’s just mama. It’s just me.”
“Mama,” she whispered, her eyes clouding with tears. She sounded like a child, small and frightened. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. I know.” The moment she burst into tears, familiar arms wrapped around her, pulled her closer. They were supposed to make her feel safe but they didn’t, the kiss on her forehead didn’t, nothing did. She was sobbing in the middle of a psychiatrist’s office, surrounded by paper and a broken clipboard and it didn’t matter how many “it’s okay”s her mother whispered, it wasn’t. She wasn’t. And she was sure, she would never be okay again.
AU LIFE.
The walls were cream colored, it was the first thing that she noticed as her eyelids lifted, far too heavy for comfort. Beeping. It was the second thing her mind registered. She was-- was she in the hospital?
The memories came slowly, a distraction from the quiet bustling she heard around her. She could see no one, she was too focused on her thoughts to worry if she had any visitors or not, someone must have known that she was here, someone must have been by to check on her. But why was she here?
All she could remember was drinking, and drinking, and drinking – excessively, even for her. One shot after the next. Her choice of alcohol seemed to get stronger as the night progressed, maybe she had climbed into someone’s car, maybe behind the wheel of her own. She wasn’t sure. That was where everything went black. But she knew that she had gotten herself here, it was no one’s fault but her own, still unaware that she had been unconscious for two weeks she started to sob. She could have died. At one point maybe that had been what she’d wanted, but not now.
She would have left her parents without a child.
Someone said her name, a nurse that must have been in the room, only then noticing that she was awake and crying. She asked her something about pain and she shook her head, though she hadn’t heard her completely. She didn’t want her to pump her full of medicine that would put her back to sleep, though a throbbing headache had brought itself to her attention, she didn’t care. This was what her life had came to. This is who she had become.
It was then that she caught sight of the card on her bedside table, her vision was slightly blurry but she was sure she saw Chase Myers’ name, it took her a few seconds to register just who that was. Someone from the school she had tried so hard to forget. It hadn’t worked. There was a pain in the back of her hand, wires tugging as she lifted it to wipe her eyes. Then the nurse was there, standing by her bed, a beautiful woman, her mind was hazy but Bea was sure that she looked like an angel. When she opened her mouth to speak, to ask questions, no words came out. The woman gently pulled her hand away, brushed her hair off of her face. Her voice was soft and comforting, she heard footsteps approaching, another nurse or a doctor that she had called for. “It’s okay, sweetie.” Much to her surprise, she believed her, the beeping of heart and brain monitors drowning her thoughts, putting her in a calmer state of mind. She could have died. But she hadn’t. There must have been a reason for that. “You’re okay,” the woman continued, and she was.
For the first time in years, and for every day that followed, Beatrice Ryder began to pray.
Reality is bitter It’s your hand and yours alone that has opened the door to let their voices in Into your head, under your skin Fix your face or you will never fit in
~ ~ ~ I know the truth now I know who you are And I don't love you anymore
Never was and never will be You don't know how you've betrayed me And somehow you have everybody fooled
Maybe we're a little different There's no need to be ashamed You've got the light to fight the shadows So stop hiding it away
writing challenge 003:
i.
10:00 was one of his least favorite times of the day. It meant it was closing time. It meant the smoothie shop, usually filled with the sounds of cheerful conversations and laughter, was silent. It left Chase alone with his thoughts, nothing but the sound of the broom scraping across the floor to distract him.
ii.
10:00 was one of his favorite times of the day. The church was empty, silent, and as Chase made his way through the pews, making sure each seat was stocked with a hymn book, envelope for offering, and a pen, he was able to think. He was able to reflect on the day with no distractions.
i.
On this particular day, however, there wasn’t too much weighing him down. Sure, there was the usual guilt he lived with daily, but other than that Chase was doing okay. It was a pretty average day.
ii.
On this particular day, Chase was especially grateful. It had been such a blessed day, with such a beautiful service. Even now, Chase was so caught up in his thoughts of how wonderful life was, he hadn’t even noticed the doors open and the woman slip inside. It was only when he finished his task, when he needed to return the extra or damaged books to the shelf, that he noticed there was a kneeling woman in his way.
“Woah,” he jumped, startled by the presence of a fellow human being that he had not noticed before. “I’m so sorry. You scared me.”
She jumped too, looking up at him. Her tear filled eyes widened when her eyes met his. And his widened back.
Because this wasn’t just a random woman seeking refuge and answers and peace at 10:00 at night.
This was his mother.
i.
The floors were swept. The machines were cleaned. The tables were wiped down and ready for the next day’s customers.
ii.
“Wha–what are you doing here?” Chase finally croaked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
“I needed to come. To be here,” she spoke back, glancing up at the giant mural of Christ staring down at them. “To make some peace with some of the things I’ve done. I’ve done– so much, Chase. So much… I didn’t know you would be here.”
“Yeah, well that makes two of us. This is kind of my thing now,” he almost chuckled. By what he was wearing, she had probably already figured that out.
“You’ve still got my eyes…” Her eyebrows furrowed together as she examined his face. “I’m sorry. I wish you had gotten your father’s. They are beautiful.”
“Were. He’s unfortunately passed.”
“Oh… oh,” she repeated, as the realization sunk in. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you….” he replied.
“That’s not all I’m sorry for,” she confessed slowly. “I really am. Sorry. For leaving you like I did.”
He wanted to interrupt her, to tell her she didn’t need to apologize, but apparently she did. Why else would she have ended up here?
“It was so hard, having to watch you grow up and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Knowing that I was broken and you– Chase, you were such a great kid. You didn’t deserve broken.”
“I didn’t deserve to be left either.”
“No. You didn’t. I had every intention of coming back, I did. I just–” she trailed off.
“Didn’t,” Chase answered for her.
“Yes. I didn’t.”
“He blamed me. For years,” he gulped, as memories he’d repressed, the source of all his guilt, started to flood back into his mind. “He said it was my fault you left, and you leaving him completely ruined him.”
“It wasn’t your fault, it was never your fault, dear. You never did anything wrong, how could you? You were just a child.”
“Exactly, I was a child. I was your child. And you left me, and never looked back.”
“I’m so sorry, Chase.” She was crying now. The tears were streaking down her face, and something deep within Chase made him want to cry along with her. But he couldn’t. “Please, just please say you’ll forgive me.”
He couldn’t even meet her eyes anymore. He glanced up at Jesus, who seemed to be staring directly into his soul, reminding him of all the verses that threatened those who failed to forgive would never find forgiveness themselves. He knew what he was supposed to do.
He also knew that he just couldn’t.
“It’s really late, I’m supposed to get everything locked up here. I believe you should go.
“Chase.”
“No. I hope you find peace, and I hope you find happiness, and whatever it was you were looking for, I hope you found it. But I really think it’s time you go.”
She sighed, nodding, the tears still streaking down her face. “Okay,” she answered. Just like before, she walked out the door without looking back.
i.
He locked up the shop, about to slide the keys into his pocket when a woman crashed into him. She didn’t stop, even as Chase crashed to the ground. “Thanks!” he yelled after her. But she kept running, not looking back.
“letting go. everyone talks about it like it’s the easiest thing. unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open. but my hand has been clenched into a fist for… years now; it’s frozen shut.“
Note: Since Sean didn’t have an AU life, this is a collective monologue of his life after he’s sent back in time to live in Charles’ place. tw: beheading, abortion, murder, fire, tessa mcguire (aka she who shall not be named)
Tell my mother, Tell my father I've done the best I can To make them realize This is my life I hope they understand I'm not angry, I'm just saying... Sometimes goodbye is a second chance Please don't cry one tear for me I'm not afraid Of what I have to say This is my one and only voice So listen close, It's only for today