#sans anaesthesia

[fingertipsmp3]

I think one of my wisdom teeth is coming in and like. Can It Not

[hwaightme]

Use me (part 1)

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR HALAZIA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

🌌 pairing: nonidol!mingi x afab!reader 🌌 genre: smut, angst, emotions 🌌 summary: You had a routine. Every Friday night, you would meet with your friends to hit the clubs, looking for fun. It was easy, it was emotionless, it was carefree. But what will happen when your usual wingmen are not around, and you only have your shy friend, Song Mingi to keep you company under the neon lights? 🌌 wordcount: 9.7k 🌌 warnings/tags: language, alcohol, intoxication, indications of past bad relationship experiences, not believing in love, emotional suppression, some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you... 🌌 taglist: @layzfeelit @honey-lemon-goose here's the drop 🌌 a/n: Hello there! This is my first attempt at smut, so please do be warned. Hope you enjoy, MINORS DNI, nsfw tags and content under the cut. (note: song referenced is BTBT by B.I)

🌌 nsfw tags: sub!mingi, dom!reader, mingi is a pretty princess, pet names, degradation(mingi receiving), cunnilingus, protection IS USED, one night stand energy, mistress, a lot of dirty talk, teasing, denial, overstimulation.

You were the centre of the universe. A modern-day Venus, swaying your delicious hips in time to the music, arms in the air spelling seduction. The earth-shattering bass was resetting your intoxicated heart like a defibrillator. The kaleidoscopic haze was surrounding you and embracing you like the sweetest hit of anaesthesia right before you went under. Nothing existed except you and the gazes that were scanning you, devouring every inch of your body as you made the dance floor your bitch once again.

It was all but a blur, just how you liked it.

The neon was your weekly escape, something of a routine that you had established with a couple of your closest friends: Wooyoung and San. You three were the lives of any party, igniting the atmosphere and not letting the scalding hot flame die out until you said so. And even then, in the hearts of all those lucky enough to witness your miraculous, dizzying passion would linger the burning remains of an unforgettable night.

Over time, your trio had established ground rules and fool-proof strategies for how to get the most out of any night out. From the elaborate preparations, dressing to the elegant elevens but ready to offer just the right amount of sleaze if need be. To the selections of drinks that give just the right buzz without letting you lose your head. To your personal favourite – the complex tango of aiding one another to capture the next beauty and wring their everything dry until they knew nothing except you, Wooyoung or San. All to experience the satisfaction of hearing another heart break the next morning.

This was your idea of love – a hit every Friday night, a fuck with no strings attached. If what drove them wild was for you to call them your beloved - you did not care. Things said in the night died a small death and turned to ghosts in the morning. Remaining in the afterglow. At least you did not have to remember their name. Their bodies also faded from your memory quickly enough. So, you came back, again, and again. In search of a wondrous, lust-filled temporary high.

It was the same tonight. Same club, same throngs of bodies glistening in sweat under the strobe lights, just belonging to different people. The DJ had recognised you, so he changed the set to play a couple more of your favourite songs. His wolfish gaze revealing a lot more than he wanted. Oh, how simple all these people were. And how easy they were to wrap around your finger. If only you had the same drive today. But San’s girlfriend, well now ex-girlfriend, decided that today, of all days of the week, was just right to break up with him, and Wooyoung being his roommate could not leave the blubbering dejected mess alone.

No amount of convincing could coax the two out of hiding in their newly renamed ‘bachelor’ pad. Not wanting to let the two buzzkills completely destroy your energy, you still tugged on your best dress, and strutted in, head held high, hair in captivating locks. There was something truly devilish about you, and you were normally not afraid to use it to your advantage. But there was something different about tonight. Probably because you had to settle for the company of another one of your friends. Someone a lot more demure, for the lack of a better word.

Even though it was a six-foot-tall man with a toned physique and the most attractive hands that you were talking about, you could not help but think of him as a pretty little princess. He was just so untainted, so harmless and prey-like. You could feel his nervousness whenever you approached. His fluttering eyelashes, a quick, shy bite of the lip as he attempted to conjure up a response to whatever you asked. This was Song Mingi. A friend who you had no idea how you made, and why he stuck around still.

He had just appeared one day, an acquaintance you had met through one of those closest to you back in university. Funnily enough, it was the mutual friend that you had ceased to speak to. Mingi was doing a different major, had a different lifestyle, behaved differently, even interpreted things differently, but he had been accepted into the group, nonetheless. Probably because one of your friends had an undeniable thirst for him. Not that he had ever noticed though.

Mingi had always been like that. A gentle creature. A ball of cuteness. If your whole friend group had ever sat together, it was always as though there was one soft, fluffy cloud amidst hurricanes, tornados and thunderstorms. Not a single drop of rain on anyone’s parade. He had the desire to please, and would always volunteer to do errands for others, even if it was so far out of his way it was foolish to do so.

He had stopped once you had explained to him that others were using him. Including your own friends. You had pointed out that he had the power to refuse, and that they were not going to admonish him, as a matter of fact, they would not particularly care. Mingi had taken your words as gospel, and since then, had taken to treating you like his saviour of sorts. Or at least that was how you had initially seen it.

First thing he had done for you after you had merely pointed out the obvious was gotten you your go-to order at the café near campus. How he knew or had found out – you never managed to pry out of him. Then there had been the ‘accidental’ (read: intentional, because Mingi looked like he had been loitering in that corridor for a weirdly long time) run ins during your transits from one lecture hall to another, so that he could walk with you to your class.

The attention had been a bit much at first, but you had grown to accept it as usual ‘Mingi behaviour’. After all, he was the princess, the fluffy cloud, the ray of sunshine. That had to be just how he was. And as such, you had never taken him seriously. A couple of your friends had pointed out that maybe he was trying to make advances, but you shut that down rapidly by reminding them that you had no desire to love, nor could you see anyone wanting to love you.

You had never seen that side of your life be so peachy. It was almost as if you had been born into heartbreak and were nurtured by it. The antithesis to love was where you had comfortably resided for so long, and only stepped out to reach for comrades in misery. That was how you had found your people. Your chaos. These amazing idiots with whom you could share everything, and they would accept you for the idiot that you were. And having someone from the other side, from so-called ‘paradise’, trying to trace your steps and meet you halfway – it felt wrong. It was wrong. It was not what you had written out for yourself in your own blood and conviction after you had seen and felt too much. You made a decision and turned it into an aspect of your identity. Like some people were awfully co-dependent, or mentioned their significant other in every sentence, you were proudly solo. Unaffected by that nonsense.

It was not meant for you, that whole ‘written in the stars’, sappy romance, soulmates bullshit. All of that was mere theory. A concept invented by some people who had no idea how reality worked. Your reality was all about giving into carnal pleasures if you needed to relieve some stress or craved some intimacy. The emotional satisfaction came from being with your crew. Your collection of people who were ride or die. As time had shown, even that could not last forever. At least you still had San and Wooyoung. The two who had you had instantly clicked with.

The two who were currently sitting at home, with San probably watching some guilty pleasure drama and sobbing into a plushie while Wooyoung had likely made his killer dakgaejang for the ultimate comfort. Thereby officially abandoning you and leaving you to your own devices. Well, almost. Tonight had to be the night when you had all agreed to invite Mingi along after a few months of his stagnancy in that department. Your trio wanted to show him how to unwind and have a good time. But now that responsibility fell solely to you, and you could not help but feel a little awkward. No matter how hard you tried, you could not get the man to loosen up. And in turn, he was ruining all plans you had in finding yourself a little fun.

With the glares he inadvertently sent every potential midnight suitor who approached you, Mingi was acting every bit a pouting, jealous boyfriend. This had only gotten worse after he had a couple of drinks. His eyes were only ever following you. Tracing your curves as you grinded against yet another ‘possibility’, trying to see where it could go. But that stare. It would not leave neither your body, nor your consciousness. From your position on the dance floor, you could only barely make out his form, leaning, arms crossed, against a black pillar. But it seemed that no matter what you did, Mingi would still find you. Much like he had done in the past and acted like your loyal puppy. A pesky little sunray.

With no success after a total of five songs, you decided to retire to the side lines and take a breather. Sauntering over to Mingi, you pointed at his hand, and received your drink that he had been keeping safe. A refreshing dilution of whatever the beverage was supposed to be. After taking a greedy sip, you spotted a more secluded seating area in one of the corners of the venue, which had not been reserved nor was occupied, and strode on over before anyone had the same idea as you. You did not need to check if Mingi was behind you. The only answer, ever, was yes.

Crash landing onto one of the couches, nearly spilling what you had left of the liquid nonsense, you gave a little yawn. It was a little too early for you to be getting bored, but without Woo and San to be the two devils on your shoulders and wingman collaborators, you were contemplating calling it a night and just leaving. If Mingi wanted to stay for a little longer he could: he was a big boy who could go clubbing on his own. But to you, the past couple of hours have been a continuous mission failed.

“Hey, if you are feeling tired, we could-”

That choice of pronoun, ‘we’, rubbed you the wrong way. You did not need this ‘we’ right now. You needed another someone, anyone to make that ‘we’ happen.

“Nah, don’t worry about me I just needed to sit down for a second. All that dancing and not taking a break? That’s how you know a person is on something.” You gestured at the dance floor again to emphasise your point.

From a distance, it really did look like an unstoppable, pulsating jelly fish that emanated neon fluorescence. Your natural habitat. Your rhythm. Fuck it. You were going back. You did not want to be in the company of this cutesy dullard. At least not right now. In a few quick moves, Mingi was left standing alone by the couches, as you clicked your heels across to the dance floor, joining the chaos once more.

How breath-taking you looked. Mingi was stunned as your lithe form glided past him, in that little black dress that beautifully hugged your figure. You were royalty under the moonlight. A seductress out on the prowl, unknowingly having laid claim on his soul long before you had ever thought you could. Mingi had never understood how he had fallen so hard for you, but this was an abyss that he would never be able to get out of, as every waking day gave him a new reason to love you.

He had been the only one out of his school to go to the university that he did, and since it was a distance away from the family home, he had to move, live alone, work alone, sit alone. There had been some positive aspects to that lifestyle, like he had all the time in the world to study, but the loneliness began eating away at him, gnawing into his anxieties until it had become almost unbearable. That was when he had reached out to someone he knew had good social networks in the university, and in a matter of weeks had found himself a group to be in. Your group, to be more specific. Everyone had been welcoming, but he had convinced himself that he could not be anything except a burden, and as such he had turned into something reminiscent of a butler. A boy at beck and call, just because he wanted to have friends and thought he had to continuously prove himself worthy. It was exhausting, but once he had started, it was near impossible to stop. People got used to good things far too quickly.

But then, there was you. An angel who had taken him by the hand and led him out of the maze of his own making. The only one who had stepped in. The one who had shown they cared. At first, he just wanted to show you his gratitude and help you out as best as he could in return for your gesture, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found out about you, the more he ended up wanting everything to do with you. Sure, you had presented yourself as being above feelings, he knew that, but he was not bothered by it. It was your comfort that mattered to Mingi. If that meant keeping everyone besides a select few friends at arm’s length, then so be it. At least it was your arm, and you were not refusing his company entirely.

That was how he had ended up being a sort of satellite to your system. A little moon orbiting around you while you and your friends were a galaxy, and order of planets. It was clear that the group was not as impressive as it had been, and that he was still the odd one out, nevertheless, social outings were still being organised, and he could sometimes attend them. His heart had swelled when you, Wooyoung and San had reached out to him with an invite to a night club. And now, even more so that the duo could not make it, albeit for an upsetting reason.

Mingi knew why you went to this club in particular. It had a good crowd, quite a few ‘lookers’, and people did not hesitate to spend their money. You had frequented it enough times for you to be very amiable towards nearly all staff, even recognising that one of the barmen was a new hire and wishing him luck. You were so amazingly attentive, and your ‘focus face’ had not changed at all since Mingi had known you. Forever his first love that never seized to threaten to break out of his chest in a burst of pent-up affection.

Of course, there was another reason why you were here, one that did not sit quite as well with him and was why he was rather sulky and unable to appease you in being more carefree and becoming one with the heavy beat that was roaring over him. And it was that you had your focus trained on others. Studying man after man for their ‘potential’, checking their energy or whatever it was that you could feel through their trousers. You were a dangerous balance of audacious and coquettish, able to physically entice and mentally capture.

But the disgusting, lascivious leers that those you tested the waters with sent you, and them groping your ass, snaking their arms around your waste, or openly palming their groin as they approached you was about to make Mingi go insane. Was this the kind of treatment you suffered through every single Friday night just to satisfy your own needs? Did you have to listen to drunkards call you vile names just for a night of passion? He could not comprehend how anyone could ever deserve it just because they wanted something special.

Fuck it. He could not stand you being attacked in that way anymore. He needed to join you on the dance floor before this could continue. Not for one second could he believe that you were enjoying this. It was dangerous. It was degrading. It was… it was not the you that had been his friend. It was the you that had evoked a different kind of desire within him. An insatiable want for you, and you alone. As he stalked forwards, closer to the centre where you were currently swaying to the more melodic interlude of rhythm and blues as a man clearly double your age was trying to woo you, trying to roam your body with his grimy hands. One look to the left and there was another, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties, unabashedly looking you up and down, likely having undressed you a thousand times in her mind. You were unstoppable, but Mingi desperately wanted to try. So, he silenced his mind’s protests, tuning into a darker hedonism, and swept you away from where you had been dancing and pushing you deeper into the mass, making both of you disappear into its music-enchanted waves.

You were astonished at your friend’s bout of bravery. Raising an eyebrow in suspicion, you studied him as he tried his best to guide you in the dance, however failing to do so without a newbie’s rigidity. A smile crept onto your face as you placed both of your hands on his upper arms, taking note of the well-sculpted muscle concealed by his shirt, and slid them down, nice and slow until you could guide Mingi to rest his own hands right on your waist. Now tonight was getting interesting. Finally. Without as much as a one word exchange you two continued indulging in the trance, and as the song changed, and changed again, time allowed the two of you to completely sink into the addictive feeling.

When my eyes are on you

숨 막힐듯한 전율

Oh, you know you get me loose

Make me go 비틀비틀

It was a push and pull. You wanted to take Mingi to the limit. Since he finally wanted to communicate with your senses, you wanted to show him all that you could do, what this atmosphere could do. The electricity between you and him was undeniable, and as you got more confident in one another’s presence you had fallen into a shared rhythm, taking every breath together, translating every beat into body language.

A dance floor made for two

달이 부르는 선율

Oh, it's only me and you

Make me go 비틀비틀

This ray of sunshine called Song Mingi was glinting in a much more tantalising manner than usual. All that following you around did appear to do some good at least – he could match you well. Almost frighteningly well. His movements were smooth, and he was very light on his feet. And most importantly, he was fully immersed in being your dance partner, to the extent that a club had the space for and considered as paired dancing. At some point during the song, his gentle grasp on your hips had become more needy, and he transferred it to your hips, while still keeping time to the song. As he pushed you closer to him, you could feel heat rolling off his body, and spot a single bead of sweat making its way down the side of his face.

Without thinking about it much you moved to swipe it away, which made Mingi stiffen and falter. He responded to your touch, leaning his head in which you took to be a sign that at least you would have a good night in the club. He was not going to go anywhere and was at your mercy. Very loyal. And all over you. You did have to admit, that once he had dropped the observation game and acted, he was turning out to be a lot more of an exciting person to have around. On top of that, you were getting your fill of more personalised attention, with an enviable man as your companion.

Again, the song changed to a slowed rhythm and blues piece, and both of you took it as a sign to get even closer. Your arms were now draped over his shoulders and loosely crossed behind his neck, and your lower bodies were mere centimetres apart. The previous energetic sequence was all gone, replaced instead with an unmistakeable burning. As your orbs met his in a near-showdown fashion, you could see Mingi’s irrefutable change in demeanour. How did you not consider this man before? This other Mingi? It was like you were meeting somebody for the first time. Somebody who you would not mind making your body.

Your breath was becoming his breath as he inched closer and closer to you, so tentative as though he was asking permission for every tiny movement. He halted right when your noses were touching, and so dangerously close you could almost taste him.

Mingi was going into overdrive. His everything, you, were right within reach, and yet your soul was nowhere to be felt. You were a succubus, tempting him by the way you were toying with his hair, so carelessly, like you did not know what you were doing to him. Tempting him by the kittenish expression you wore, your half-lidded eyes hinting at a future that he had only dreamt of with you. His sinful fantasies about you had all awakened; episodes that he had drafted in solitude wanting to be re-enacted. How he yearned for your touch. For him to be able to melt into you and give himself up. Be only yours. Forever. So, you did not ever have to do what you had been doing all this time before tonight. He let out a shaky breath, affected by the lust that was already clouding his vision. Voice low, and a little hoarse, Mingi momentarily shut his eyes and whispered right against your cheek:

“Use me.”

You tried to step back a little, surprised at Mingi’s sudden proposition. But he would not let go, instead pressing you flush against his frame. You could now feel that he was not kidding, his blooming arousal greeting you through the layers of fabric. Because you had not responded to him, nor showed any signs of being interested, the notes of roughness in his tone disappeared entirely, leaving behind something closer to a whimper:

“Y/N… please. Use me. You… you don’t need anybody else. Can just use me.”

In awe, you were staring at Mingi. Now this was something you had never predicted for this Friday night. In your musings, you had bet that by now, you would have been in your own bed, watching a music show and drifting off to sleep. Not about to make a decision that could change the course of your life while in a not so lucid state of mind.

“Then tell me, darling, how do you want me to use you?” you asked back, hearing a sharp and shallow gasp from Mingi. He was unwinding right in your hands, and you had barely done anything.

“I’d rather show you, Y/N, if you will let me.” He mumbled, beginning to trace your jawline with soft, feathery kisses.

“And I’d rather bend you to my will.” The retort sent a shiver down his spine, and he ceased to pepper you with the manifestation of his desirous state. “After you take me to your place.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I could get used to this. Lead the way, darling. Your place.”

With one arm wrapped around your waist, tracing abstract patterns on your dress, and the other being used as a wedge to part the tightly knit bodies, Mingi immediately answered to your request. He had not changed his positioning as he flagged down a taxi, and continued holding onto you, although now it was your hand in his, for the duration of the drive to his home. Whilst the tiny droplets of possessiveness masked most of Mingi’s disposition, there was an endearing aspect to it. In some ways, Mingi was like a little kid who had just discovered something extraordinary and was ready to tie himself to it to ensure that it did not disappear. Even with his present actions unveiling nothing but an unprecedented lust and unbreakable certitude, Mingi still had remnants of his day-time self clinging onto him. Which was the first thing you focused on ripping way once he had finished fumbling with the keys to his front door.

You were tightly bound in each other’s arms. The air was thick with anticipation while Mingi closed the door with his foot and haphazardly threw off his shoes. You followed suit, and upon having done so, observed your ‘human offering’. You could see that he was not sure in how to proceed, having stopped midway through the entryway corridor, but the grip he had was on the contrary, more possessive. If he wanted to be used so badly, then he would not mind if you ruined him.

A harsh pull of the shirt collar and a stifled mention of your name later, your red-tinted lips locked in with his in a perfect harmony. In that moment, he was like your oasis, a discovery of a paradise after eons of suffering, a salve to your numerous wounds. The kiss swiftly transformed from the first phase of introductory exploration, luxuriating in the delectable tension, to a faster and more fervent collision of sexual ardour.

He was so malleable in your hands, giving into your control and honouring it with the unholy groans that were building up in his throat. To think that you had such an effect on someone and so quickly! It sparked a stronger desire to make him unravel and proudly share with you just how good, how satiated you made him feel. You wanted to hear him submit to you and follow your laws.

As you toyed with the hem of his trousers, pulling at the belt and letting your noticeably colder fingers glide against his skin, you elicited a growl from Mingi, who broke away from your lips to trail kisses down your neck and stopped right at the base, nuzzling into it and masking his responsive eagerness.

“Bed… room…” his demand came across more as a suggestion due to his feeble tone, but you felt nice, for now, and obliged, and let him take the lead in your tango across the living space and through the half-open door straight across from where you had been.

You were illuminated only by the moon and the streetlights that shone through the window, leaving you standing in an ethereal glow. Shadows that fell across Mingi’s face as he pulled away from you, his breathing ragged, only amplified the near-animalistic want etched onto him, another mark of his submission to you. He did not dare make a single move, again, standing in wait. An obedient boy, letting you turn his back to the bed, pushing him down until he was sat on its edge. You straddled him, your dress riding up to reveal the panties of a lacy lingerie set, and languidly grinded against him a couple of times to drive up his desire. He stifled a moan by biting his swollen bottom lip in an attempt to hide his craving for you, but that bashfulness was not on your agenda.

Motivated by his shallow pants, you slid your hands with fingers spread far apart under his white, now crumpled shirt, sliding them lazily up his torso, feeling for every ripple, every response to you. You stopped at his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples as you stimulated them, repeatedly making circular motions with your index fingers and pinching them until you saw Mingi tilt his head back a little and make haste to adjust his hold on you, moving to your voluptuous ass. Pushing himself against you he tried to chase his own high, giving into the first gifts bestowed upon him in the form of your caresses. But not so fast, you were not going to let him have so much fun so early on. Not when he had pledged to listen to you. To let him be your toy for the night. With a devilish smirk, you abruptly stopped, making Mingi’s eyes shoot wide open, and dart across your features. The nervousness did little to make you merciful, for instead you found you took pleasure in taking away what others enjoyed. He was confused, unable to read your expression. Just as he was opening his mouth, still decorated with your sweet saliva, you used his lowered guard against him and toppled him backwards. You took him by the wrists and pressed them by his head, right into the disturbed sheets. He looked so pretty under you. Pretty little princess. Those doe eyes, searching for an answer from you. A command. Anything.

“Did you not say I could use you, hm, darling? And now what do you think you are doing?” you purred, hovering over him.

Mingi let out a desperate hum and tried to buck up his hips against you. You knew that he could overpower you at any moment. And that made your present power of him that much sweeter. You held your ground and ignored the heat rising in your core. When he denied you a response, you removed your hold from one of his wrists, instead taking his chin and gripping it to make him see only you through his daze.

“I will repeat, what the fuck do you think you are doing, huh?” you were centimetres away, hissing the question right into his ear before softly exhaling, leaving a few kisses and cautiously biting the lobe. Mingi’s chest rose and fell sharply as he took in the sensation.

“I… I want you. I want you so bad, Y/N. Please.” He begged, letting his free hand rise to try hooking the strap of your dress, but before he could slide it down your shoulder, you switched your position again, now no longer holding him down, but tearing his shirt apart to feast your eyes.

“And where did your obedience go, darling? Do you think you deserve what you want?” you applied pressure on his clothed member, mocking how you could so easily ride him.

“I… sorry, Y/N, I cannot think, I-”

“Shut up. You said to use you. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Yours, Y/N I am yours-”

“That is mistress to you, you little bitch.” You snapped, back to peering into his clouded orbs. On instinct, you moved to give his throat some ‘affection’, applying light pressure on either side as you continued: “Pretending to be so innocent, whoring yourself out to me. I bet this is what you do on the daily, batting your eyelashes looking all pretty and in a matter of minutes becoming a lascivious little slut.”

“Y/N-” he yelped, but you were not having that kind of disrespect, so you tightened your rip and moved one hand behind you to fish for his belt.

“It’s mistress, darling.” You uttered, an ominous darkness dripping from your words. Mingi shuddered as he felt you masterfully removing the pesky accessory, discarding it with one throw.

“Okay, m-mistress, ah fuck…” he moaned as you let go of his throat and fully exposed his throbbing member, taking it in one hand and rubbing its tip with a thumb. He desperately wanted to see how you unwounded him, but you remained sat right on his pelvis, hiding your act with your body.

“Is this what you want, darling? Me pleasuring you? Me taking you apart with my touch?”

“Ah- yes! Yes, mistress!”

“What a good boy, see it was not so hard to learn. Now tell me how far do you want to go.” You broke your act just a little, to check if Mingi was still on board. You had no idea of his experience, nor of his boundaries, so it was a matter of respect.

“All… all the way… Y/N, sorry, mistress.”

“Good. Then I expect you to follow my every command. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good little fuck toy.” You praised, sliding your hand down his dick, spreading his precum down the length and giving him one pump, only to fully remove yourself from his body and sit on your knees by his side. You traced his abdomen as you pondered out loud, amused at his dedication – he was not moving a single inch, wrapped up in your presence.

“I have been far too generous, don’t you think? Giving you all the pleasure, whilst you are making a mess and not thanking me for all I have done. Filthy.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much, mistress.”

“For what?”

“For treating me so well. For making me feel so good-”

“Oh, you eager little slut, such a pleaser. Sweet talking your way into getting some more. How greedy!” you laughed, crawling closer to his head and running your fingers through his locks. “I will need a lot more than that to forgive you for being so demanding.”

“Anything.” He answered airily.

“Then make me come with that mouth of yours. Show me what your tongue can really do.”

“Yes, please, mistress.”

“Tsk-tsk, how cute. Then on your knees, darling right there. In front of the bed. So I can see just how delightful you look worshipping my cunt.”

In a matter of seconds, he was making his way off the bed, and simultaneously discarding the rest of his clothing that you had unbuttoned. Stark naked, he dropped to the ground, just as you had commanded him to. The moon illuminated him once more. A lustful little angel.

You took your time in removing your dress, feigning a lack of want. As if you were doing Mingi a favour by being here, and by letting him eat you out. You wanted to make it a point that your orgasm was his highest reward, and that he better get used to it quickly if he wanted to be used by you. Mingi gaped at you as you were left in your bra and panties, the article now leaving barely anything to the imagination. On all fours, you crawled towards him, every bit a dangerous wildcat ready to pounce. Before taking a comfortable seat for your pleasure, you cupped his chin once more and pulled him into a sultry kiss, tilting your head to seek entrance with your tongue.

Mingi gripped the sheets and tried to rise to pull you closer into him, but upon seeing the too positive response, you sat right back, and slid your legs down into position. You rested your weight on one arm, while the other absent-mindedly played with Mingi’s hair as he placed his hands on your thighs, and began to take your panties off. For a couple of seconds, you played along, sitting up slightly so that the material could escape from under you, but just as he thought he had it all in his power, you stopped him by yanking him to attention by the hair.

“Now, not so fast, did I say I wanted to see what your hands could do?”

“No, mistress.”

“Exactly. Use your mouth, pretty boy.” He obliged, even going so far as to put his hands behind his back. He took the material between his teeth, and worked at it, little by little, downwards, until it appeared as though he was bowing to you, right at your feet. In one final move, Mingi tugged them off you, and rose up once more, an entertaining look of pride on his features.

You committed each step of this intimate sequence to memory and continued watching the show that he was putting on for you. The throw of the panties away from him with a move of the head, his gaze trailing down your body, his kitten-like nudges to your thighs, pleading you to spread them further apart. Not wanting to wait any longer, you did as much, and wriggled yourself forwards a tiny bit more.

As he kissed your clit and ran his hot tongue between your already soaked folds, you realised just how riled up you were. He would do anything for you, and that turned you on unbelievably. You tightened your jaw and shut your mouth to suppress any sound as you let your head fall back a little, your hair streaming down behind you in a waterfall. He was lapping up your nectar like a parched man, not leaving a single bit behind. With a flick, he switched his attention back to your aroused bud, and began to circle it with his tongue, occasionally pursing his lips to give the sensitive blossom intemperate sucks.

It was challenging to hold back any more of your sinful moans as he returned to your wet hole, penetrating it with his tongue and twisting in an unrepeatable motion. You felt your core begin to tighten, as a high was alerting you of its imminence. You tugged gently at Mingi’s soft hair and praised him for being such a good little boy, such a good darling, for fucking you so good with his tongue.

His delighted hums sent a vibration against your dripping cunt, and you groaned in pleasure, only making Mingi pick up his pace. His tongue was moving in and out, gliding against your folds and playing with your clit. As he buried his face in your pussy, wanting nothing more than to drown in your juices, your climax was fast approaching. As your breaths turned shallower by the second, and you pressed Mingi’s head right against you, he took the signal and gave your clit one final lick and curled his tongue upwards, right inside your hole. He was beckoning you, begging you to cum for him.

“Ah fuck, Mingi I-” his name slipped out of your mouth as you gave into the awaited orgasm, shuddering at the unforgettable feeling. He reacted to your exclamation with unexpected vigour, kissing your sex and hastily drinking in your release. This further stimulated you as you let go of him and leaned back onto your elbows, to not fully collapse.

Taking deep breaths in, you composed yourself and returned from your high. You glanced at Mingi, whose lips were glistening with your wetness. He dared to give you a shy smile after noticing your observation, like he was awaiting more praise for his hard work.

“What a good little slut my pretty boy is. Making mistress really happy.” It was hard to keep your voice steady, but you tried your best, seeing as you had to maintain dominance.

“And I am so happy too mistress. Thank you… can I ask something?” he inquired, as you rose onto your knees again and unclasped your bra, making him lose track of his thoughts for a moment.

“Go on ahead.” You enjoyed when men scrutinised your so hungrily. How your shapely breasts managed to make them forgive and forget anything you wanted them to. As you watched Mingi swallow some spit, eyes trained on your chest, you began to knead them for full effect, “you were saying?”

“Oh… I… I liked when… when you called me by my name… mistress…” he forced out, rising up onto his feet as you motioned for him to do so with your index finger. Now this was problematic. You never liked using your temporary lovers’ names during sex, as you felt it to be a little too personal. Yes, there had been times when it slipped, but Mingi had been the only one to take notice and express his liking of the fact.

“Well, one time’s enough baby boy. You need to work harder for me, you hear me?” you turned the game around, evading the possibility of him asking you to stop with the pet names and degradation. After what looked to be a flash of disappointment, Mingi returned to his obedient state and mumbled a low ‘yes mistress’.

You commanded that he lied down, just as he had before, his member now completely in the air and almost unbearably hard. You moved to sit right before it, your legs spread and straddling his thighs, pussy just within reach. But not just yet. You had a little more you wanted to do; you wanted to return the favour – you were just that nice.

Mingi was in a state of pure bliss as you spat on his cock and rubbed the viscous liquid over it. It was only a matter of moments before you heard him emit a low, husky moan. He cursed at the feeling, eyes rolling back a little as he gave into you, again. It was almost more pleasurable watching him plead for you to go faster than satisfying yourself. How his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when you played with his tip. How he shivered when you decided to give his dick a blow of cold air, making Mingi’s mind go into a frenzy. He wanted you to take him whole, bucking up his hips as he noticed you moving closer, but that only made him receive a slap on his abused member, and a sharp command:

“Princess. I make the rules here. And if for one second you think that I am going to let your whored out dick touch my lips, I will not hesitate to punish you until you can’t walk.” You threatened, and continued pumping rhythmically as you heard a series of melodic whines in response.

He was so easy to read. Spread on the palm of your hand, a simple, innocent Song Mingi. So, you knew exactly when to cut his pleasure short, abruptly recoiling and removing your legs to be positioned to his right. You observed his pulsing cock as Mingi cried out in frustration, moaning for you to continue, just a little bit longer.

“Silence, darling. I am bored again, and I think you will like what I am planning.” You explained, twisting at the waist to reach for your handbag that you had thrown in the direction of the side table in the corner.

Upon fishing out a condom and unrolling it on Mingi’s member, you thanked your lucky stars that it was the right size. The friction made him tense up again, and you chuckled. So sensitive. So malleable. All yours to use for the night.

“Are you ready, darling?” you threw the question out in a manner similar to that of asking about someone’s day. Like this really meant nothing to you. Even though your core was pleading for you to hurry up.

“Yes, mistre- ah!” he could not finish his answer as you directed his cock right outside your entrance, and eased it in.

As you took Mingi’s whole length, you put your hands on his abdomen, and peered over, glazed over from the sensation of him filling you up, against your walls in all the right places. You needed a moment to get used to it, as the impossibly ideal match left you on the verge of sanity. The heat of your pussy, and its clenching as you wiggled a little to get your positioning just right was making Mingi see stars, detuning from any reason or logic that he may have had left. Now, there was only you and him. Bound by the night.

You commenced your ritual. The sensual rise and fall of your body as you engulfed him more and more with every move. His whimper as you rocked forwards to glide over his length made you groan in response, and you leaned in to kiss him, still managing to taste your own climax on those soft lips. Before you could move away, he cupped your face and pulled you in closer, nearly making you lose balance – you had to move up and push into his chest.

He gazed right into your eyes. It felt like a fire, burning through you. You were comfortable with lust, and had seen it many times before, but there was something deeper, something more lethal behind Mingi’s carnality. But in your present disorientation, you dismissed it as a building thrill to accompany the knot that was steadily growing within you. It was impossible to look away as he powered through the numbing gratification and kept you level with him. The way he looked to be committing you to memory, your every freckle and blemish forming constellations in his universe, was almost frightening.

As your pussy began to pulsate with more frequency around his member, Mingi clenched his jaw and let out a low growl. Unable to stay at the same pace any longer, but still having to remain in his place, he began to toy with your breasts, just as you had done while undressing him, flicking the sensitive nubs until you dug your nails into his skin, feeling the stimulation totally collapsing on you.

“Y/N… please… please mistress… can I… can I please fuck you harder. I want to make you feel so good. As best as I can…” he pleaded, his wish being granted almost instantly as you guided him back to your hips.

Just as you had done while moving a little way up before, he rocked you in the same direction, his length almost completely escaping you, only to be sheathed back again. As he got more comfortable with you in his grasp, he picked up his speed, the gentleness being replaced by steady pounds. He rolled his body up against you, joining you in the race to a long-awaited high. Your moans were becoming uncontrollable as you struggled to stay on top of him, which led him to flip you over and take his position on the bed. You were too hazy to protest as he kissed your neck, your cheeks your nose, your lips, and intertwined his fingers with yours as he quickened his pace even more.

The sound of your juices being pumped again and again was making you and him lose your minds, feral from the sexual delight. You could not care less that he was now groaning out your name with every stroke, and that his face was showing nothing but adoration. You were using him, after all, he had to fit to your demands. And how he was now having his way with you was making you go mad with lust. Your cunt could not take this perfection much longer, and you could feel it cramp around Mingi’s dick, signifying your unravelling.

“Ah… shit… darling… I… I am about to...”

It was challenging to find the words, let alone form them into a coherent sentence as you cried out and came undone once more. You wrapped your arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders, bringing him to you as you muted your yelps with his kiss. He continued pumping into you until he, too, began to falter, and soon enough was moaning right into you. Both of you collapsed into one another, your sweaty bodies becoming one in the moonlight as he relished in the feeling of your ecstasy warming his cock.

Using the last of the strength he had left, Mingi pushed himself off you and rolled over onto his back. Breathing heavy, you focused on the settling silence of the room. As your eyes had fully adjusted to the semi-dim illumination, you could finally take your surroundings in, and when your inhalation and exhalation returned to a reasonable pace, you could make out the noises of traffic coming from outside. Barely there, but a reminder that you were not on cloud nine.

It was time to clean up. You were quick to regain your senses, thanks what could be considered as training, while the same could not be said about Mingi. He was practically motionless, only the beating of his heart and breathing giving away that he was a living, but totally spent man. You removed the condom, tying it in a knot and throwing it in a bin you spotted in the corner.

It was fairly easy to find the bathroom, with its entrance being right outside. As you dolled yourself up again, which was pretty much just wiping away some mascara and eyeliner that had decided to stain your cheeks, you wondered whether Mingi was already asleep, or if he was going to meet you in the shower. Not wanting to wait, you took the liberty of stepping in and dousing yourself in the cooling water, careful not to ruin your hair more than it had already been tousled by passion.

No change. You unceremoniously dried yourself using the closest available towel, throwing it into the laundry basket under the sink. Mingi was definitely asleep. Or just so exhausted that he could not function. You chuckled to yourself, your ego swelling – a common occurrence on a Friday night for you. But a little seedling of suspicion had risen within you as you turned of the light and stalked back to the room. The intimate eye contact, the kiss to ride out the climax, the hand holding. This was a little… personal. Much like his reaction to you calling out his name. You were using him, you repeated to yourself. He just offered himself to you. A loyal friend, right? Helping another in need, apologising for cockblocking you for nearly the entire evening. What the fuck were you even saying? There was something off about this. You could not place a finger on it. But Mingi, poor Mingi, answered all your doubts in one go.

As you stood by the bed, about to lie back down to let yourself drift into a peaceful rest before exiting the scene in the morning, he stirred. You chose to not make any further motions to join him. You glanced at his form, now curled up and reaching towards the side where you had been. This pretty little angel. Who had fallen for the night to satisfy your sin. Just as you were about to step towards the window to take in the scenery, Mingi mumbled out the one thing you were terrified of.

“I love you… Y/N…”

Your heart stopped, and you froze in place.

You knew he was irrational. You knew he was fucked out and on the verge of slumber. Hell, you heard others say this to you before in a post-coital bliss. But something about how those three little words fell out of Mingi’s bruised lips tore at you, and how he said your name was a direct shot through the heart. By barely doing anything, just giving into his nature, his mind’s calling, Mingi made it clear that this really was a truth that he had harbouring for so long, and that only at his most vulnerable, while with you, could he reveal it.

In those couple of seconds that it took to utter the sacred confession, he had unlocked his world, one that revolved around you. If the past did not exist, and this was all a movie, the audience could almost believe that this was all domestic. That in a matter of seconds you would be crawling back into bed, to someone with whom you were sharing your life, to fall asleep in his embrace.

And not to be scrambling for your belongings that had been strewn around on the floor, careful not to alert your ‘not so much a friend anymore’. You felt panic rise in your throat as you let out a couple of shaky breaths.

“I love you”

Was it that easy for him to say?

“I.”

“Love.”

“You.”

Why were you so affected by it? Why was this the first time that these words, in that order, did matter?

You sent one apologetic glance over your shoulder as you tip-toed out of the bedroom, sex still heavy in the air. Your high heels were still in your hands as you crept out of Mingi’s apartment, out of fear that he could awaken at any moment, and you would not be able to stay indifferent enough to brush his pleas away.

Would he say your name in the morning?

Would he miss you when he realised you were gone?

Shit. You were in deep trouble.

You pulled down your dress a little, flipped one of the straps that decided it was not the time to look neat, and shoved the tights that you had not had the time nor the courage to stay and put on into your handbag. There was no chance you were going to stay in that same space as him. The adoration was borderline suffocating. It was so pure. So… honest. It made you sick to your stomach, and you were not sure if it was from disgust or from butterflies.

This was supposed to be just like any other Friday. A satiation of basic human instincts. A moment that was meant to be erased and the space filled by somebody else. But you had committed a fatal error. And you were sure of it. You had foolishly chosen Mingi: the one person who could not comprehend, nor have ‘no strings’ with you. In fact, all strings that he had ever been bound by led only to you.

In retrospect, it was obvious. All the years you had known him, he was always on your team. That silly boy. In university, he had brought you medicine when you were sick. Followed you and your ‘gang’ of troublemakers around almost like a groupie would follow a rock band. Stayed up with you in the campus library just to keep you company as you crunched out some report.

And now, even when life had thrown peers around different cities and countries and your friend group had whittled down to a tight-knit squad, he was still there. Loyal to you. Satisfied even if it was just you rejecting him repeatedly, selecting man after man, sometimes right in front of him, to bring home for the damned Friday night. All because at least before that moment, he could spend some time with you.

What were you thinking, falling for the trap of accepting a lover’s self-sacrifice?

A true libertine, you had chosen the primrose path of dalliance to tread. It was only a matter of time before you had to pay for it in full, for there was nothing in the world that could fix Song Mingi’s heart of gold if it were to break.

You stumbled outside of his apartment building, finally remembering to tug on the heels as your bare feet hit the biting cold concrete. It was barely three in the morning. Much earlier than you had ever left a one-night-stand’s place before. But this was different. In every way it was really fucking different. You hobbled away, cursing yourself over and over as you fished out your nearly dead mobile phone out of your bag, searching for the number of the only one you could call when the apocalypse was upon you.

He picked up after the third ring, just as you were passing under a streetlight. The roads were completely deserted, the residential district wrapped up in a cosy blanket until the morning. Somnolent trees lining pathways and sidewalks were barely rocking, and the only sounds that filled the air were the rumbles of distant traffic.

“Yeah? Y/N? What happened? You normally don’t call-”

“Wooyoung. I fucked up. Really badly. I really, really, badly fucked up.” You felt tears beginning to well up and sting you, threatening to spill over at any moment. Your friend was so concerned about you, launching to try and comfort you. It made you think back to those damn words that had imprinted themselves in your mind. Replaying again and again.

“Wait, wait, what happened, hold on? Are you okay? Are you safe? Where are you? San and I are coming to get you right now-”

“I slept with Mingi.” You cut him off. You were no longer walking; your legs were barely supporting you anyways.

“WHAT?” silence on the line as you heard shuffling and hushed, indecipherable whispers. “So, by that do you mean like, uh… heavy petting and foreplay or-”

“Since when does SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE mean THIRD BASE in our vocabulary, Woo?” you yelled, though without much conviction – you sounded too choked up.

“Fair point… well was it worth it at least?” you were not surprised that Wooyoung would inquire after that even when you were on the verge of melting down right on him.

“Oh, for fucks sake, YES, yes it was good. Very good in fact. More than good.”

“Then hey, at least that’s a positive. Then why are you so distressed? I know he has eyes for you but you know, so do like seventy percent of the guys at work.”

“He said he loved me.” You forced out, attempting to regain some nonchalance.

“No way.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

“Yes way.

“Fu-u-uck… Okay Y/N where are you this needs some wine and a good game plan.” You heard the rattling of keys and rapid footsteps. You tried to imagine the layout of your friend’s pad. Anything to get you away from what you had just done.

“I am… you know what let me send you my live location.” You could not bring yourself to take a single step back, even though you had seen a street sign. Going back would mean getting closer to him.

“Cool, stay put,” Wooyoung ended your conversation, but before hanging up you could hear him shouting at San to ‘stop sulking over that bitch there is a real catastrophe happening out there’.

No better words to describe it.

You used Mingi.

While Mingi loved you.

[i-am-literal-nightmare-fuel]

So I went to the nightmares haunted house at Niagara Falls today and as a result have learnt about another haunted house that I have a large problem with.

now i never trigger warning my posts but this was disturbing for me so, warning for ; kidnapping, torture, teeth removal, waterboarding, other torture based activities. (Info under cut)

in both Tennessee and Alabama there is a haunted ‘house’ called the McKamey manor. In Alabama you need to be 21+ and in Tennessee you need to be 18-20 with parental consent, but 21+ to attend alone. In order to enter you need to sign a 40 page waiver agreeing to allow staff to remove teeth without anaesthesia, tattoo you, waterboard you, tie you up, abuse and assault you and make you think you’re going to die. Now there is something mentally wrong with the concept of this because if you have the stomach for it and you go to their YouTube channel (McKamey Manor Presents) and you watch a 1 minute trailer it is gruesome. They provide attendees with a safe word to end the experience instantly but one participant reported have yelled her safe word for several minutes before the staff stopped assaulting her, leaving her to be hospitalised. Staff are allowed to break bones, drug and bury participants alive. People living in the areas around these establishments think it is horrific and in Tennessee one citizen called the police after seeing a women being dragged, kicking and screaming from a van as part of ‘the experience.’ The police have explained that this is legal as people are signing themselves up for it and there is a 24,000 person waiting list as of 2022. For completing one of their challenges you get 20,000 dollars, 500 of which is removed if you back out or swear. Participants who make it through most of it end up severely injured or hospitalised. The experiences last for 8-10 hours depending on the tour, originally located in San Diego at McKamey’s house. Traditional haunted houses do not consider this haunted house ‘traditional or conventional’ and often do not want to associate themselves with it. (Neither would I)

Research this for yourself if you want to because this is fucked up.

[allurantmedical8]

O shot in San Diego

A relatively recent advancement in therapies for sex enjoyment and vaginal health is the O-Shot. It restores the health of your vaginal tissues while assisting you in reclaiming your femininity and confidence. By boosting pleasure and reviving sexual desire, the O Shot (Orgasm Shot) nonsurgical technique revitalises a woman's sexual life. This technique revitalises the vagina without the need of any drugs by utilising the patient's own natural growth hormones. The greatest O Shot in San Diego is what we offer. It is the ideal remedy for incontinence sufferers as well as women who are not happy with or wish to better their sexual life.

Who can get benefitted from it?

The O-Shot is advantageous for plenty of women. As a result of childbirth, the menopause, or other illnesses, you can eventually feel less sexual pleasure. You should be in a good relationship with your spouse and clear of any other illnesses that could be harming your vaginal health before thinking about getting the O-Shot in San Diego.

The O-Shot can be utilised to treat urine incontinence in addition to sexual enjoyment. Urinary incontinence may occur when laughing or sneezing as you get older or after having kids. But the O Shot San Diego can also aid you in avoiding future embarrassing issues with "leaks" during those activities.

To ensure no pain during the O-Shot treatment, we first apply topical lidocaine and tetracaine to the clitorus and anterior vagina. We then reapply the topical numbing cream many times over the course of 45 minutes. We do a quick blood test. Natural growth factors, such as those involved in nerve growth, are extracted and concentrated from the patient's blood sample using a specialised method. To achieve total anaesthesia, our Dr. then performs a clitoral nerve block. The higher vaginal clitoris and the G spot receive injections of the growth factors that were taken from your blood.

[timetell]

@newsworth

" -- logan joy, san francisco chronicle. chris, can the president comment on the length of time between her being put under anaesthesia and the v.p. stepping up? there are sources saying it was seven hours before the twenty-fifth was invoked. why the wait? who was in charge? "

[candela888]

Folk Saints in the folk Catholicism of the Americas and other regions✨ Folk saints are deceased people or other spiritually powerful entities (such as Indigenous and African spirits) venerated as saints, even if they're not officially canonized by the Church. LONG THREAD BELOW:

Like officially recognized saints, folk saints are considered intercessors with God, but many are also understood to act directly in the lives of their devotees. Folk saints occur throughout the Catholic world, and they are especially popular in Latin America.

An offering to a folk saint might include the same votive candles and ex-votos (tributes of thanks) left at the shrines to canonized saints, but they also frequently include other items that reflect something of the spirit's former life or personality. 

Now on to the saints themselves:

Some of the Folk Saints in the Folk Catholicism of the Americas:

La Difunta Correa is a figure in Argentinian folk-religion. Every year since 1840, miracles are said to occur at the shrine. Her body was found by gauchos, astonished when they saw the dead woman's baby was alive, feeding from her "miraculously" ever-full breast.

On October 8, 1967, the Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara was captured by the CIA-assisted Bolivian Army and killed, nowadays a monument to "El Che" exists in the town and images of the revolutionary are hung, and some pray to Santo Ernesto who is said to bring about miracles.

Padre Cícero was a Brazilian Catholic priest who became a spiritual leader to the people of Northeastern Brazil. In the course of his ministry, he was accused of heresy by the Church, eventually becoming suspended but not formally excommunicated. A statue of him now stands.

Santa Muerte is an idol, female deity or folk saint in Mexican folk Catholicism and paganism. A personification of death, she is associated with healing, protection, and safe delivery to the afterlife by her devotees. She is seen as a protector of outcasts, including LGBT people.

Gauchito Gil is a folk religious figure in Argentina's popular culture. One can spot small shrines of Gauchito Gil on roadsides throughout Argentina due to the red color and the flags, many of which read "Gracias, Gauchito Gil" if the person's request is fulfilled.

Escrava Anastacia is a popular saint venerated in Brazil. A Black slave woman, Anastacia is depicted as beautiful, having piercing eyes and wearing an oppressive facemask. Anastacia is a very important figure in Folk Catholic and Umbanda devotion, especially with Black Brazilians.

Maximón, also called San Simón, is a Mayan deity and folk saint represented in various forms by the Maya people of several towns in the highlands of Western Guatemala. Oral tradition of his in these communities is complex, diverse, and born of the Maya traditions centuries ago.

El Niño Fidencio was a Mexican curandero. Fidencio was famous for operations without anaesthesia without causing pain to patients, and provided cures related to specific parts of town, such as a pepper tree which the congregation threw offerings around. He is now seen as a saint.

In Puerto Rico, Dia de Los Tres Reyes Magos, or Three Kings' Day is an important holiday. On the day before the feast (January 5), the "Rosario de Reyes" or "Promesa de Reyes" is traditionally celebrated with songs (aguinaldos) promised to be sung to the Kings.

Jesús Malverde, known as the "angel of the poor", or the "narco-saint", is a folklore hero in the Mexican state of Sinaloa. He is a "Robin Hood figure" who was supposed to have stolen from the rich to give to the poor. He is celebrated as a folk saint, particularly among narcos.

Mariana of Jesus de Paredes is a Catholic saint and was the first person to be canonized from what is now Ecuador. She was a recluse who is said to have sacrificed herself for the salvation of her city. She remains very popular with many of the people of Ecuador.

Miriam Alejandra Bianchi, known by her stage name Gilda, was an Argentinian cumbia singer and songwriter. On 7 September 1996 Gilda died in a tragic bus accident, and shortly after her death, Gilda was credited by her fans with achieving miracles and many even called her a saint.

Sarita Colonia, or La Sarita, was a young Peruvian woman who was credited with the ability to make miracles. After her death, a popular veneration for her began, due to her reputation of holiness. She is not recognized by the Church, but is popular, especially with the poor.

Charlene Marie Richard was a twelve-year-old Catholic Cajun girl from Richard, Louisiana, USA. She has become the focus of a popular belief that she is a saint—a person who is in heaven—who has performed a number of miracles.

Selena Quintanilla-Pérez was a singer, songwriter, and fashion designer. Referred to as the "Queen of Tejano music", her contributions to music and fashion made her one of the most celebrated Mexican-American entertainers of the late 20th century. She has a strong following.

El Tío, is believed in Cerro Rico, Potosí, Bolivia to be the "Lord of the Underworld". There are many statues of this spirit in the mines of Cerro Rico. He rules over the mines, simultaneously offering protection and destruction. Miners bring offerings such as cigarettes.

Every year, the Carnaval de Oruro is held, and costumes and statues of El Tío are paraded around in a ceremony that represents his defeat at the hands of the Archangel Michael. This is the only time that images of El Tío are allowed above the surface of the mines.

Antônio Conselheiro was a Brazilian religious leader, preacher, and founder of the village of Canudos, the scene of the War of Canudos (1896–1897), a civil rebellion against the central government. He was strongly against slavery, and had preached and written about it.

San Pascualito is a folk saint associated with Saint Paschal Baylon and venerated in Guatemala and the Mexican state of Chiapas. His veneration is associated with the curing of disease. San Pascualito is represented as a skeleton, sometimes caped or wearing a crown.

Santa Barbara is a major saint in the Catholic tradition of Cuba. In the Afro-Cuban religion of Santería she is often syncretized with Chango, the deity of fire, lightning, and thunder. Chango is male and represents male beauty, virility, passion and power.

La Melchorita is a folk Catholic religious figure from Peru who devoted her entire life to caring for the poor and sick in the village that she lived in.

Don Pedro Jaramillo, was a Purépecha curandero, faith healer, and folk saint from the South Texas Valley region. He is known as "the healer of Los Olmos Creek" and "el mero jefe" of the curanderos. He believed he heard a voice telling him God had given him the power to heal.

Anaisa Pye is a popular loa within religion in the Dominican Republic. She is considered the patron of love, money, and general happiness within Dominican Vudú and Folk Catholicism. Among Dominican Catholic believers, she is syncretized with Saint Anne.

San La Muerte is a skeletal folk saint that is venerated in Paraguay, Argentina, and southern Brazil. Saint Death is depicted as a male skeleton figure usually holding a scythe. Many devotees consider the veneration of San La Muerte as being part of their Catholic faith.

Father J.M. Villars was a Catholic Priest in Indiana. He died in mysterious circumstances in 1868. He has since become a folk saint. People began making pilgrimages to his grave in the early 1910s.

Saint Óscar Romero (1917 – 1980) was a prelate of the Catholic Church in El Salvador who served as the Archbishop of San Salvador. He spoke out against poverty, social injustice and paid great attention to the poor & marginalized. He was recently canonized.

In Managua, Nicaragua, there is a procession for Saint Dominic. An old, small statuette that personifies this saint which has been considered responsible for miracles involving many families and successive generations. Minguito is the name of the statuette, short for 'Domingo'.

The Virgen de los Angeles is the patron saint of Costa Rica. She is also known as La Negrita, the Black Virgin, as she is a Black/Afro-Latina representation. She is a small (less than a meter tall), statuette found on August 2, 1635 by an Indigenous woman.

Santa Teresa was a Mexican mystic, folk healer, and revolutionary insurgent. She had a serious illness and began to experience religious visions. Teresa Urrea was venerated as a folk saint among the many Indigenous people of the Sonoran Desert near the United States border.

Sepé Tiaraju was an Indigenous Guarani leader in the Jesuit reduction mission of São Luiz Gonzaga and who died on February 7, 1756, in the state of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil. He led the fight against the Portuguese and Spanish colonial powers, and considered a saint by some.

Menina Izildinha, Angel of the Lord or Saint Izildinha is the popular name of Maria Izilda de Castro Ribeiro, an unofficial popular folk saint to whom Brazilian Catholics have attributed inexplicable miracles, cures and healings. She is a patron saint of the poor.

Popular in the traditions of Santeria, Haitian Vodou, Louisiana Voodoo, Dominican Vudu, and Folk Catholicism, the Anima Sola is an image depicting a soul in purgatory, popular in Spanish-speaking Latin America, Haiti, Southwestern USA, Louisiana, Southern Florida, Andalucia, the Canary Islands, and Southern Italy.

Her Haitian Vodou counterpart is Marinette, a loa of power and violence. She is represented by a screech owl and is often seen as the protector of werewolves (lougarou). Her colors are black and deep blood red. Her offerings are black pigs and black roosters plucked alive.

In Santería or Lukumi, the Afro-Caribbean religion of Cuba, there is a syncretization of the Anima Sola with the Eshu Alleguana/Alawana. Anima Sola is grouped in a triad in some traditions with The Intranquil Spirit and the Dominant Spirit.

Marie Catherine Laveau was a Louisiana Creole practitioner of Voodoo, herbalist and midwife who was renowned in New Orleans. Her daughter, Marie Laveau II, also practiced rootwork, conjure, African spiritualism as well as Louisiana Voodoo. She is considered a saint by some.

Nuestra Señora de los Treinta y Tres, also known as the Liberator of Uruguay, is a title of the Virgin Mary and the Patroness of Uruguay. Ever since the country's independence, there have been pilgrimages to her shrine, for instance, in times of pests, plague, or strife.

In July, hundreds of pilgrims will make their way to an isolated town in the northwest of Haiti, called Anse-à-Foleur or Ansafolè. The journey celebrates a Black Saint known as Gran'n Sainte Anne Charitable in her Catholic form and Ti Saint Anne in Vodou form.

María Lionza is the central figure in one of the most widespread Indigenous beliefs in Venezuela. The cult of María Lionza is a blend of African, Indigenous and Catholic beliefs. She is revered as a goddess of nature, love, peace, & harmony. She has followers throughout Venezuela

Ezilí Dantor or Erzulie Dantó is the main loa or senior spirit of the Petro family in Haitian Vodou. She became popular among single mothers during the 1980s/90s in Haiti and Dominican Republic. The syncretic version of this loa is associated with the Black Madonna of Częstochowa.

In 1945, at 7 pm, 9-year-old Joseph Vitolo was one of a group of children playing outside his home near The Bronx's Grand Concourse in New York City. The children saw something floating above a hill, and when Joseph recited a Hail Mary he saw a woman whom he identified as the Virgin Mary.

Within a few days, the visitations were receiving worldwide attention and up to 20,000 people attended the nightly vigil. Among those who expressed interest in the events were Frank Sinatra, Lou Costello, and Francis Cardinal Spellman.

Revered as a saint by the pilgrims, Joseph was frequently asked to cure the sick and injured and would respond by praying with them. The place where Joseph allegedly saw the visions was bought by a devotee who created a shrine there.

Saint Alberto Hurtado, popularly known in Chile as Padre Hurtado, was a Chilean Jesuit priest, lawyer, social worker, and writer. He is a patron saint of poor people, street children, and social workers. He fought hard for the labor movement in the country.

Our Lady Aparecida is widely venerated by Brazilian Catholics, who consider her as the patroness of Brazil. Accounts state that the statue was originally found by three fishermen who miraculously caught many fish after invoking the Blessed Virgin Mary.

San Baltasar or King Baltasar Cambá is a folk saint of African origin, widely venerated in the coastal area of Argentina in the province of Corrientes. The worship of San Baltasar is known as the Brotherhood of San Baltazar, since the Catholic Church has not canonized him.

La Mano Poderosa is Spanish for "The Powerful Hand," the pierced hand of Our Lord Jesus Christ which is often seen in Latin American iconography, especially in Puerto Rico and Mexico. They are sold on prayer candles and there are prayers one can say.

Saint Laura Montoya was a Colombian Catholic religious sister and the founder of the Congregation of the Missionary Sisters of the Immaculate Virgin Mary and Saint Catherine of Siena. She was well known for her work for acting as a strong role model for South American girls.

Belie Belcan is a very popular loa within 21 Divisiones (Dominican Vudú). He is considered the patron saint of justice who defends people against evil. He is considered very polite, understanding, and protective. In Catholicism, he is syncretized with San Miguel Arcangel.

Elegua is an Orisha, a deity of roads in the religions of Santería, Umbanda, Quimbanda, and Candomblé. In folk Catholicism, he is syncretized with Saint Michael, Saint Anthony of Padua, or the Holy Child of Atocha.

Nuestra Señora de Suyapa is a title of the Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus Christ. An 18th-century cedar wood statue of the Virgin is perhaps Honduras' most popular religious image, and the focus of an extensive pilgrimage. The statue is considered to have miraculous powers.

The lluvia de peces (lit. 'rain of fish') is a phenomenon that has been occurring yearly for more than a century in Yoro, Honduras, in which fish fall from the sky. Spanish priest Father José Manuel de Jesús Subirana is associated with this phenomenon.

The legend goes as follows: "Father Subirana saw how poor the people of Honduras were and prayed three days and three nights asking God for a miracle to help the poor people and to provide them with food...

...After these three days and nights, God took note of this and there came a dark cloud. Many tasty fish fell from the sky, feeding all the people. Since then this wonder is repeated every year."

Negro Felipe was an escaped slave from Cuba who played a prominent role in the struggle for independence. He served as Bolivar’s aide before being murdered by Spanish colonists in Venezuela. Now a beloved spirit of Maria Lionza, he is venerated as one of the Très Potencias.

Guaicaipuro is a legendary Indigenous Venezuelan chief of both the Teques and Caracas tribes. He is now among the most important spirits of the Venezuelan spiritual tradition, Maria Lionza.

Ricardo Espiell Barrionuevo known as “Ricardito” was born in Lima in 1886. He died when he was seven of unknown causes. Legend says that his relatives made a statue in his name after his death. A big earthquake destroyed part of the cemetery and the statue disappeared.

Nobody could find the statue. Strangely after some months the statue appeared in Spain and it was intact. The president of that moment ordered to bring back it again. Now the statue is considered miraculous by many.

Marassa Jumeaux are the divine twins in Vodou. Love, truth and justice. Directed by reason. Mysteries of liaison between earth and heaven and they personify astronomic-astrological learning. In folk Catholicism they are syncretised with the Catholic Saints Cosmas and Damian.

In Panama , in the Villa de los Santos, there is a legend of the appearance of a headless Catholic Padre who is supposed to be the soul of a missionary who arrived with the Spanish conquerors and who was beheaded on the Cerro de Juan Díaz .

José Gregorio Hernández was a Venezuelan physician. Born in Isnotú, Trujillo State, he became a highly renowned doctor, more so after his death. After his death, people around the country started claiming to have been granted miracles after praying for his intercession to God.

For centuries, Puerto Rican santeros have carved sculptures of saints from fallen trees. They stand watch even where there are no churches. They are carefully crafted and painted. Tthe most common figures are the Three Kings, Santa Barbara, San Francisco, and La Mano Poderosa.

Papa Legba is a loa in Haitian Vodou, who serves as the intermediary between the loa and humanity. He stands at a spiritual crossroads and gives (or denies) permission to speak with the spirits. Legba is syncretized with Saint Peter, Saint Lazarus, and Saint Anthony.

Santa Teresa of Jesus of Los Andes was a Chilean professed religious from the Discalced Carmelites. Her time in the convent was cut short due to her contracting an aggressive disease that killed her. She remains popular with some Catholics in Chile.

The Fiesta Virgen del Mar is a boat festival takes place every year in Puntarenas, Costa Rica to remember the major & damaging storm of 1920, and to give thanks to the Patron Saint of Puntarenas, la Virgen del Carmen, who was said to have saved a fishing vessel during the storm.

Miguel Ángel Gaitán, or El Angelito Milagroso, was an Argentine baby who died of meningitis, 15 days before his first birthday. His corpse remained very well preserved, as was discovered after a violent rainstorm in 1973, revered in Argentina, people go to his shrine for miracles

Ọṣun is an Orisha, a spirit, a deity, or a goddess in Yoruba-based religion. She is an important deity Ochún is usually equated with Cuba's patron saint, Our Lady of Charity. In Brazilian Candomblé, the orisha Oxum has been conflated with Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception

Seraphim Rose, was an American hieromonk of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia who co-founded the St. Herman of Alaska Monastery in Platina, California. Some folk Orthodox Christians hold him in high esteem, venerating him in iconography, liturgy and prayer.

The veneration of San Judas Tadeo in Mexico is very popular. The saint is officially associated with difficult circumstances and is the Patron of Lost Causes, with the idea that the saint hears the petitions of both the good and the bad. It has spread throughout Latin America.

Mariano de Jesús Euse Hoyos was a Colombian Roman Catholic priest ordained in 1872 for the Diocese of Santa Rosa de Osos. He worked in his parish as a staunch defender of the poor and of rural laborers - he himself came from rural origins - and now has many popular devotions.

El Niño Compadrito is a relatively obscure folk saint with that is famous for his blue eyes from Cusco, Peru. He is a mummified corpse, and his veneration is a result of syncretic Indigenous and Catholic beliefs.

A late twentieth century movement to gain national recognition of Afro-Peruvian cultural contributions in Cañete Province focused on Santa Efigenia. An annual celebration of Santa Efígenia is held on September 21 each year in Peru, with processions made in homage to her.

It is popular to give tribute to the virgin and martyr Santa Librada, patron saint of Las Tablas, better known as "La Moñona" in Panama and Argentina.

In traditional and popular folklore of Chile, the procession of the Cristo de Mayo is also called 'Señor de los Temblores', which means Lord of the Earthquakes. This procession is done to protect the inhabitants of Santiago from future earthquakes and calamities.

The Sanctuary of Chalma, is an important pilgrimage site in Mexico. The sanctuary is dedicated to an image of what many people describe as a "Black Christ" on a cross that legend says miraculously appeared in a cave where the worship of a deity known as Tezcatlipoca took place.

Maria da Conceição Bueno is considered a "popular saint" in the State of Paraná, Brazil. She was brutally murdered by a soldier. It is said that at the place of her death a wooden cross was placed, becoming a place of prayers where devotees claimed to have their requests granted.

Azaka (Kouzin or Couzen) is the loa of the harvest in Haitian Vodou. Azaka is often identified with Saint Isadore.

"La Purísima is a festival to the Virgin Mary that is celebrated between November 28 and December 8. The 7th is the culmination, with "La Gritería." It is the most popular festival of the year for most Nicaraguans.

Francisco Pancho Sierra was an Argentine curandero. He is one of the many folklore characters of the rural culture of the Pampean provinces of Argentina. He supposedly helped many people, and is considered a Saint by some.

Trinidad Orisha, also known as Shango, is a syncretic religion in Trinidad and Tobago and is of Caribbean origin, originally from West Africa (Yoruba religion). Obatala/Saint Benedict and Shango/Saint John are some of the syncretic saints/spirits in the religion.

The Virgen de la Bala is a folk devotion to an icon of the Virgin Mary that is said to protect people against violence. It has gained some popularity in Mexico.

Monumento al Divino Salvador del Mundo is a monument located on Plaza El Salvador del Mundo in San Salvador City, El Salvador. It consists of a statue of Jesus Christ standing on top of a global sphere of planet Earth, placed on top of the tall four-sided concrete base pedestal.

Rosita de Pachacútec is a folk devotion to a young Peruvian girl thought to be a saint.

"La Virgen del Pozo" is a supposed Marian apparition at a spring-puddle in Sabana Grande, Puerto Rico in 1953. Several students from a nearby school reported seeing "a beautiful young lady" floating on a cloud above a spring that provided water to the school

La Quemadita, or Casimira Morón, was brought to a small town in Peru on foot, because she had suffered an accident, burning her entire body. The inhabitants of the area leave her candles and pray for her soul, becoming a folk saint in the town, with people praying at the shrine.

San Miguel Arcángel is not a folk saint, but a saint and an angel that is recognized by the Church. Regarded as one of the most important saints in Latin America, he is known as defeating Satan in the War in Heaven. His likeness is used in many occult practices in the region.

Carlos Manuel Cecilio Rodríguez Santiago, or Beato Charlie, was a layperson of the Catholic Church, who was beatified on April 29, 2001. He is the first Puerto Rican, the first Caribbean-born layperson in history to be beatified. There is a movement to make him an offical saint.

Often called “The Peoples’ Priest,” Trinidadian Archbishop Anthony Pantin was loved by many for his compassion and the work he did for the poor and underprivileged. He might become the next Caribbean Saint.

In Guadalajara, Mexico there is an ancient child mummy called "Santa Inocencia". There are many  versions to her story, but all focus on the elements  that she was a  girl who was said to have been killed by her father due to her desire to convert to Christianity.

Her remains were brought to Mexico from Europe during the colonial era. Recently, a tourist was standing in front of the corpse when he caught a chilling moment on video. The corpse is said to blink sometimes, and many say that the cathedral is haunted.

Some of the Folk Saints in the Folk Catholicism (and Orthodoxy) of Africa:

Sister Anna Hadija Ali was a Kenyan Religious Sister. She is known for her claims of personal contact with Jesus Christ in visitations between 1987-1991. For 4 years she experienced weekly visits from Him; and cried bloody tears on Wednesday-Thursday nights according to witnesses

Kaleb (520), also known as Saint Elesbaan, is perhaps the best-documented, if not best-known, King of Aksum, which was situated in modern-day Eritrea and Tigray, Ethiopia.

Sr. Bernadeta Mbawala, from Tanzania, was noticed to have special grace, love, obidience, humility and perseverance in life, and when she died in 1950 people began to visist her grave and pray there. People report to have been helped by God through the intercession with her.

The Virgin of Candelaria or Our Lady of Candle, popularly called La Morenita, celebrates the Virgin Mary on the island of Tenerife, one of the Canary Islands. She is depicted as a Black Madonna. In Guanche mythology, the she was identified as Chaxiraxi, and her son Chijoraji.

The cult of the Virgin of Candelaria swept America due to the emigration from the Canary Islands. She is widely venerated in South America and the Caribbean. In Cuban Santería, the she is identified with Oyá as well as Oba. In Brazilian Candomblé, the she is identified with Oshun.

Saint Efigenia/Ifigênia of Ethiopia is a folk saint, especially popular with Afro-Peruvians, Afro-Brazilians, and Cubans.

A "Venerable Brotherhood of Saint Elesbão & Saint Efigênia" was founded in Rio de Janeiro on 1740 by free Black people from Cabo Verde, Coast of the Mine (present-day Ghana), São Tomé Island, and Mozambique.

Peter Porekuu (1918 –2008) – given the surname Der then Dery– was a Ghanaian Roman Catholic cardinal. Some have suggested that he could be a saint.

Some of the Folk Saints in the Folk Catholicism of Asia:

Francis Xavier Truong Buu Diep was a Vietnamese Catholic priest who served the people of Bạc Liêu. According to believers, after he passed, his remains were lost until he appeared in a vision and disclosed the location and at least two posthumous miracles are attributed to him.

Miguel Ayatumo is a venerated Filipino Catholic seminarian student in Loboc, Bohol, who died in odor of sanctity. Contemporary records speaks glowingly of him and his remains lies inside the Loboc Church and is being revered as a pilgrimage site by some.

Maria Basañes was a very religious Filipina woman. When she passed, the family was required to move the grave and found that her body was preserved. They now keep her in the living room of their home. Rumours say she wanders the region at night, and could be deemed a saint.

Amakusa Shirō led the Shimabara Rebellion, an uprising of Japanese Catholics against the Shogunate. They were defeated, and Shirō was executed at the age of 17. His head was displayed on a pike near Nagasaki. He is now considered a folk saint to many Japanese Catholics.

Filomena Almarinez was a Filipina woman who gained her fame as a folk saint after her body was discovered in a state of Incorruptibility when her grave was exhumed for her father's body. Locals proclaimed her a saint and a number of miracles were attributed to her.

Some of the Folk Saints in the Folk Catholicism (and Orthodoxy) of Europe:

Dr José Tomás de Sousa Martins was a doctor renowned for his work for the poor in Lisbon, Portugal. After his death, a spiritist cult arose around his personality in which he is thanked for "miraculous" cures. Followers say that they have psychic communications with him.

According to Catholic tradition, Saint Amaro was an abbot and sailor who it was claimed sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to an earthly paradise.

Many claim that the historical character of San Amaro converged many pagan traditions present in Asturias and Galicia.

Saint Senara is a legendary Cornish folk saint with links to the village of Zennor on the coast of Cornwall , UK. The Church of Saint Senara, Zennor is dedicated to her. Senara was highly venerated by local fishermen. Her legend is similar to the story of Danaë in Greek Myth.

Sir John Schorne was rector of North Marston in the English county of Buckinghamshire. He was a very pious man and was said to have effected many miraculous cures for gout and toothache. His shrine became a popular place of pilgrimage and he was regarded by many as a folk saint.

Saint Guinefort was a 13th-century French dog that received local veneration as a folk saint after miracles were reported at his grave. Guinefort became recognised by locals as a saint for the protection of infants after he was martyred protecting a baby.

María Cuchilla is said to be a condemned spirit of a young woman of a humble class who lived in Oviedo, Spain in the 18th or 19th century. She is bloodthirsty and appears at night brandishing a huge bloody knife. Some people consider her the Patron Saint of unsolved crimes.

Saint Sarah is the patron saint of the Romani people. The center of her veneration is Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, a place of pilgrimage for Roma in France. Legend identifies her as the attendant of one of the Three Marys, with whom she is supposed to have arrived in the Camargue.

Nikolay Guryanov was a Russian Orthodox Christian and reputed myrrh-bearing starets and priest. Numerous miracles and healings are ascribed to him. He is considered a saint in some folk Orthodoxy.

In certain parts of Andalusia, a legend is known that tells that the Anima Sola, was in ancient times the daughter of a nobleman, the young girl helped the poor, her father did not like the idea of ​​her daughter doing that & as punishment he ordered her to be burned at the stake.

Belief in Anima Sola is perhaps strongest in Naples, Italy, where it is referred to as "the cult of the souls in Purgatory."

In Cádiz, Black Spaniards organized their own religious association, "Confradia de Nuestra Senora de le Salud, San Bello y Santa Ifigênia", formed in El Puerto de Santa María in 1575, a devotion for Santa Ifigênia. From Cádiz, her devotion spread to Portugal and then to Brazil.

Hélèna Soutadé is a "popular saint" (not recognized by the Church) in Toulouse, France. The cult of Saint Helena takes the form of pilgrimages to her tomb and contact with her relic (a piece of clothing). She was a teacher in life, and is called to help in such matters.

La Muerte or La Parca is Death in Spanish folklore. Their skeletal figure is commonly seen in several parts of Spain, such as in the Holy Week (Semana Santa) in Sevilla, Andalucia.

Saints Victor and Corona are two Christian martyrs. Victor was a Roman soldier who was tortured and killed; Corona was killed for comforting him. Corona is venerated in connection with treasure-hunting and, since 2020, with the 2020 coronavirus pandemic, especially in Italy.

Sebastianism is a Portuguese messianic myth, based on the belief that King Sebastian of Portugal, disappeared in the battle of Alcácer Quibir, will return from Morocco to save Portugal. It is categorised as an example of the King asleep in mountain folk motif.

Samthann is an Irish folk saint, purportedly a Christian nun and abbess in Early Christian Ireland.

Francesc Canals i Ambrós, known as "el Santet" was a young man from Barcelona who died at the age of 22. Buried in the Poblenou Cemetery in Barcelona, ​​he has a popular veneration that is attributed to the supposed granting of favors. In life he was a person loved by neighbors.

Saint Mariña of Aguas Santas (Mariña of Ourense) (119–139 AD) is a virgin martyr associated with the town of Aguas Santas, in the province of Ourense. She is venerated as one of nine sisters, including Quiteria and Liberata (Santa Librada).

Saint Quiteria was a second-century virgin martyr about whom nothing is certain except her name and her cult. She appears in the Roman Martyrology. She is said to have been born in Bracara (now Braga, Portugal), and her statue had many miracles attributed to it.

Catherine of Aragon (Spanish: Catalina) was Queen of England from June 1509 until May 1533 as the first wife of King Henry VIII. She was the daughter of the Catholic Monarchs Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon. She has a major following amongst some Catholics.

Maria Adelaide was a Portuguese woman who lived and died during the 19th century. Although not officially recognized by the Catholic Church, she is popularly considered to be one by the people of Portugal. When her body was exhumed that a cult began to grow around her.

Christina the Astonishing was a Christian holy woman born in Brustem, Belgium. She was considered a saint in her own time, and for centuries following her death. Prayers are traditionally said to Christina to seek her intercession for those suffering from mental illness.

Maria da Conceição Stinger Pimentel Teixeira, best known as Saozinha of Sheltered, was a young Catholic pious girl who died with a reputation for holiness and has a popular devotion as folk saint in the village of Alenquer, in Portugal.

A Marian apparition is a reported supernatural appearance by Mary, the mother of Jesus, or a series of related such appearances over a period of time. They are quite common throughout the Catholic world.

Wilgefortis is a female saint of the Catholic Church whose legend arose in the 14th century, and whose distinguishing feature is a large beard. Her name comes from the Latin "virgo fortis".

She is known as Uncumber in England, Debarras in France, and Liberata in Italy.

Dobri Dimitrov Dobrev, better known as Grandpa Dobri, Elder Dobri, or The Saint of Bailovo, was a Bulgarian ascetic who walked over 20 kilometres (12 mi) each day to sit or stand in front of the Cathedral of Alexander Nevsky in Sofia to collect money for charitable causes.

Saint Lí Ban was an Irish woman turned mermaid. She survived a flood, after which she was transformed into a being who was half-human, half-salmon. She was spotted by a ship carrying a messenger sent by St. Comgall to Rome. She was baptised, and given the Christian name Muirgein

The Cult of the Lord Holy Christ of the Miracles is a religious veneration from the Azores Islands of Portugal that is associated with a wooden image of Jesus Christ. Originally from the island of São Miguel, the belief has spread throughout the world with the Azorean diaspora.

Traditionally, Sheelah's Day was celebrated the day after the Feast of St. Patrick and coincided with the Christian festivities. According to Irish folklore, Sheelah was either the wife of St. Patrick, and the holiday served to commemorate her life.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Do you have a favorite folk saint?

[sgrumby]

hey don't forget that humans literally did evolve as "space orcs." Our evolutionary niche is "I am going to walk at you menacingly for days, if necessary, and eventually you will die of exhaustion and I will eat you." No other animal does that.

That's not to mention the fact that one method for treating headaches in a number of unrelated ancient cultures was trephining - literally drilling a hole in someone's skull, sans anaesthesia. If you tell an alien that not only did our ancient ancestors do that but that they SURVIVED there's no way they're going to believe you

[ltwilliammowett]

The Sickbay

The Surgeon was not only responsible for the wounded during a battle. He was responsible for the health of the crew during the entire voyage. And that could be a challenge, especially since by the end of the 18th century about 40% of all men on board had died of disease. The mortality rate during combat was only about 5%, if the men made it to the cockpit in time to be cared for, after combat about 11% did not make it. Accidental deaths and suicides were only 1%. That so many died of disease was due to overcrowding and the fact that the men were often not separated.

A sick bay or sick berth, 1812 aboard of USS Constitution- The principle of this sick bay design taken over from the British - by Stephen Biesty for USS Constituion Museum

There was a sickbay, but it was only there to give the sick their medication and treat them there, not to keep them there and separate them from the rest of the crew. Initially, the sickbay was located in the lower gundeck and was only separated from everything and everyone else by a curtain. This changed in 1790 when Captain John Markham had it moved to the forward upper gun deck on his ship HMS Centaur. There was more light and fresh air. Quicker and safer access to the head (the toilet) and they were close to the galley. This provided warmth, quicker access to hot water and food could be distributed more quickly. The sickbay itself was now a purely medical place that could be closed off with doors. It had its own table and medicine cabinet.

The typical location ( after 1801) of the sick bay in red- here aboard of SMS Novara 1857 (x)

This concept was so successful that Admiral John Jervis immediately adopted it and all ships had to introduce it from 1801. Now, not only infectious diseases were treated in the sickbay, which was also called the sick berth. All sick people were treated here, whether they had been wounded in battle or otherwise injured or infected. The wounded during a battle were first treated in the cockpit and only later brought to the sickbay.

Diagram of the sick berth fitted under the forecastle of the 74- guns ship San Domingo in 1812 taken from Captain S.J. Pechell’s journal (x) 

Typical illnesses and injuries on board were :

Burns- Be it from the galley or from the guns. Burns were first cleaned and then treated with vinegar compresses, linseed oil, olive oil (keeps the skin more smooth while healing) and lime water.

Hernias- were common, as the men often had to deal with heavy weights. These could be repaired with minor surgery or a hernia strap.

Bad teeth- As most surgeons had no experience in dentistry, these teeth were usually simply extracted.

Venereal diseases- all diseases acquired outside the ship, including this form of disease. The patient had to pay for it himself, which is why many of the sick tried to treat themselves with tobacco liquor or miracle cures. This was just as ineffective as the treatment with mercury, zinc liquid or plant extracts that the surgeon gave them, if they allowed themselves to be treated by him at some point. Antibiotics were simply still absent

Open wounds -were usually stitched and/ or just bandaged. The bandages were then changed regularly and the wounds cleaned with nitrate solution or vinegar to prevent infection.

Malnutrition- was a constant companion at sea. The Royal Navy itself tried to prevent this with a relatively varied diet. However, many men were pressed into service and many of them came from very poor backgrounds. They first had to be fed a diet rich in vegetables. The captains were also encouraged to take fresh food on board regularly to ensure the health of their crews.

Tropical diseases - Surgeons were usually powerless to deal with diseases such as typhoid, yellow fever and so on. It was not until 1820 that it was known that chinese root was able to treat mild cases of malaria. However, most of them succumbed to their illnesses. Here too, the problem was the non-existent antibiotics.

Amputations- often used during a battle. And the naval surgeons knew their business, a skilled surgeon could remove an arm in just two minutes. The affected area was quickly washed and possibly shaved. Then the patient was anaesthetised with luadanum or morphine and given a wooden stick or a piece of leather to bite on. Rum was not used for anaesthesia because alcohol dilutes the blood and does not lead to the desired clotting. After the limb was removed, the stump was sealed with oil or turpentine. Tar was rarely used because it led to infection. The wound was then treated as an open wound.

And although the surgeons did everything they could to care for their patient, the casualties were ever present. This was not due to a lack of skills on the part of the surgeon, but rather that the shock led to too much blood loss or that the will to live was lacking. If the men were ill for a long time, they were often transferred to a hospital ship or a naval hospital at the next opportunity.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (48) || atz

It’s well past midnight when a strange noise startles you awake.

The sound starts off soft, barely rousing you from your slumber as your sleep addled mind tries to convince you that it’s nothing, cajoling you back to into your dreams. Embarrassingly, you almost let it pull you under for a short moment before the sound gets louder and louder, unrelenting and interspersed with high pitched cries. A sleepy frown pulls at your face as you try to figure out just what the commotion is without opening your heavy eyes, before horror strikes you and your eyes fly open of their own volition.

It’s the sound of Yunho moaning in pain.

Fear jolts through you and you jerk upright in the bed, rubbing at your eyes even as you scramble to Yunho’s side, nearly tripping over when your legs get caught up in the sheets. Catching your balance, you rush to the bed opposite yours, glancing over at Yunho’s face.

He doesn’t seem to have awoken yet, to your confusion, but he’s flailing around in the blankets as if he’s trying to reach for something, whimpering with his eyes squeezed shut. There’s unintelligible noise falling from his lips and you lean down to hear him more clearly, but your heart sinks in your chest when the word repeats itself in your ears over and over again.

“Gunho… I’m sorry, Gunho…”

You stare upon the pale, ashen face of Jeong Yunho as he calls out softly for his younger brother repeatedly, the very same person who had stabbed him in the gut without a second glance. Even after being betrayed, even after being backstabbed, even in his feverish, weakened state...

He still won’t stop reaching out for his brother’s hand.

Anguish, so raw that it almost feels real, claws at your insides and you find yourself reaching out for Yunho’s outstretched hand, wanting to provide comfort to him in anyway you possibly can. Yunho’s fingers close around your hand in a vice like grip, clutching at you desperately like he’s a drowning man and you’re some sort of lifeline in the middle of an endless ocean. It hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to pull your hand away.

Then you freeze.

Because Yunho’s eyes are open.

You almost fall off the bed in a shock, even though your master had warned you beforehand that his anaesthesias tended to have a weaker effect on the older battlemaster, you had never expected it to wear off so quickly. Recovering from your surprise as fast as you can, you wave a hesitant hand in Yunho’s face.

“Yunho? Yunho, can you see me?”

But Yunho doesn’t respond, merely blinking up at you as his eyes wander back and forth, flitting about like a dancing butterfly before they finally settle on the spot right at your left shoulder and a wide, joyous smile blooms on his pale face. You frown as nerves start to creep up in you, uneasiness settling deep in your gut. What’s happening?

“Gunho… you came back to me.”

Every muscle in your body turns to ice at those words, your hand tightening on Yunho’s unconsciously. He thinks you’re his brother.

You search his eyes carefully like your master has taught you, finally recognising the signs that you see there. The hazy, unfocused gaze, dilated pupils, shallow breathing and incoherent mumbling, seeing something that isn’t quite there. They all point towards the same thing.

Yunho is hallucinating.

There’s nothing you can do for him. If you had to guess, the poison in Yunho’s bloodstream was probably some sort of hallucinogen that’s finally starting to show its effects, and without a proper antidote, there’s no way that you can help him in any way. What you can do is to merely keep Yunho calm and his heart rate under control, preventing further spread of poison through his body.

So, even though every part of you is screaming at you not to do it, you squeeze Yunho’s hand back.

“Yeah, I did, hyung.” The words leaving your mouth feel so filthy, you’re assuming the identity of that terrible, twisted man who had laughed as his brother crumpled to his knees in front of him. You’re lying to Yunho, you know, but what else can you do? “I did come back.”

“Ahh… I so happy to see you alive… that you escaped that hellhole.” Yunho raises a weak hand to stroke your face, the action so painfully gentle that it brings tears to your eyes. “I missed you so much, Gunho. I thought that you… that you were dead.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you desperately wipe the wetness rolling down your cheeks as you search for something else to say. Yunho, in his poisoned haze, must obviously not remember what had led him to be in this state in the first place. “But I’m not. I’m here with you now, hyung.”

“Are you here to kill me?” Yunho murmurs with that same, heart wrenching smile and for a moment you’re so stunned that you can find no words, merely staring at him like you’ve been struck on the head with a hammer. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were here to finish the job… I just hope you do it quickly.”

Your mind is completely scrambled as you try to make sense of Yunho’s words. Yunho thinks that Gunho is here, in the infirmary with him, waiting to kill him, but he’s merely accepting death with open arms just like this?

There’s something growing inside your chest, a numb fire that you don’t know whether is fury or horror. You want to scream at your crew mate, slap him, throw him overboard and demand right this second that he fight with every bit of his effort for his damn precious life. But the words are lodged deep in your throat and all you manage is a soft ‘oh’, a simple wisp of air that escapes your mouth as a deliberately vague question.

“I don’t deserve to live after I broke that promise to you, Gunho… I promised that I’d save you from that place… and I failed to do it… I failed you.” Yunho’s voice cracks a little as the hand holding yours squeezes a little tighter, the raw, vulnerable emotion in his voice yanking at your heartstrings. You try and fail to hold back more tears, but Yunho doesn’t notice, staring intently with such a warm, pained gaze at the empty space above your shoulder that you can’t help but want to tell him that his brother isn’t really here, that it’s just you and that he deserves the whole world, much less his life. “I was too late… When I returned to the arena… they told me you were dead, you know? Dead and gone from the fever.”

Agony rips you apart from the inside. You don’t want to listen to another word of this story, how Yunho had believed this painful lie his whole life only to get stabbed in the back by it. But you can only sit there, with tears silently streaming down your face as you grip his hand tight.

You’re utterly helpless in this situation.

“I wanted to die so badly… but Captain… Captain told me that my life belonged to him.” Yunho’s smile is so agonizingly joyous now, his eyes clouded over with hazy, hallucinated memories of long ago. “He said that as his crew, I was his to take care of, and that I needed to live for him.”

You can’t tear your eyes away.

“He saved me. I found another family on board the Treasure, even after you left, Gunho. I wish it could have been you in my place.” Yunho whispers softly and you watch as a single tear falls down his cheek, heart throbbing with pain in your chest. “So please… if you want revenge, just take it out on me. Don’t hurt them, please…”

A sob wrenches it way from your throat as you try to stifle your weeping.

“But I can’t do it… I just can’t say it…”

Wiping your eyes the best you can, you sniff and try to get your emotions under control. “Say what, hyung?”

“The main mast is still better than the mizzenmast… I can’t lie to you, Wooyoung...”

Something between a shaky laugh and an anguished sob leaves your mouth, tears now flowing freely from your eyes. Yunho’s grip on your hand slackens and he returns to mumbling indecipherable nonsense, eyes still shut blissfully in sleep as you cry silently next to him.

Luckily for you, the door that leads to your shared bedroom with San creaks open before you can dwell any more on this. Instead, you focus on wiping your eyes as you turn to face your master, who tries to give you a weak attempt at a wan smile. He can very clearly see how puffy and red your eyes are, it would have been obvious even from across the ocean, but he makes no comment on it.

“How are your tests?” You croak out weakly as your master takes a seat next to you, a soft sigh of disappointment escaping him.

“This poison is a lot more complex than I thought.” San murmurs to you as he reaches over to take your hand in his, the gentle weight of it comforting you more than you can ever thank him for. “I’ve discovered quite a few components in it… it seems to be an addictive and a poison all in one.”

You flinch a little and curl into your master’s side, pressing your face into his arm as if it could shield you from the painful memories of earlier. “Yunho-oppa was hallucinating just now. He thought I was Gunho.”

San stiffens slightly under you, tensing and relaxing before he begins to speak again. “I made a discovery earlier. Something that scares me.”

At his words, fear runs through your veins and you glance at your master in horror. Did your master just find out that the poison is a fast acting one and that you might not have the time to save Yunho? But the words that leave his mouth are far more terrifying than that.

“I detected sorcery in the poison. Something dangerous… something powerful. A sort of… magical trace.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Yunho has already been stabbed in the side, poisoned by his own brother, and now there is a person with sinister intentions who was using sorcery to hurt him? At this point, you wish so desperately that there could be something you could do to save Yunho, but unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do in the least.

It eats away at you from the inside.

Obviously knowing the internal struggle going on in you, San rests a gentle hand on your shoulder and pulls you to your feet. You stumble a little, not expecting your master to do that, but he simply steers you towards your bedroom in response to your questioning gaze.

“Go to sleep, Chin Hae.” He instructs you and when you turn around to protest, fully intent on telling him that you can’t just leave him alone here with Yunho when he should be researching the poison, but your master gives you a simple, reassuring smile. All your protests die on your lips.

“I know you’re worried about Yunho, Chin Hae. But you aren’t any help to me like that, half dead on your feet. Go get some rest so that you can watch over Yunho tomorrow, alright?”

At the mention of rest, you suddenly realise just how weary and drained you are from the events of today. Too much has happened, too much for you to process, and honestly you feel a little dizzy, as if your brain physically can’t handle all this new information. But Yunho. You glance back at his still form, something in you terrified that when you wake up the next day, Yunho might be...

“But-”

Your master presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Leave things out here to me. Go to bed and just sleep right away, alright?”

When he says the word ‘sleep’ again, exhaustion washes over your whole body and you find yourself too debilitated to continue arguing anymore. So with one last look at Yunho, you turn around and step into your bedroom, staggering over to your bed and plopping down on it heavily. Your vision seems to be swimming a little, causing you to feel a strange, nauseating sense of vertigo, but you chalk it up to the events of today and your desperate need for sleep.

You just need to rest.

So, without bothering to think any more about it, you simply close your eyes and fall back onto the comforting, familiar softness of the mattress.

You’re out of it the second your head touches the pillow.

The very instant you fall asleep, dark shadows swirl in your mind, warping and taking on strange, hazy shapes that you can’t tell head or tail from. Blackness surrounds you once more and this time, that crimson eye looms into your dreams again.

“Run…”

Your mouth opens to ask it a question, but no words come out except for a little cloud of bubbles, rising up in the water to the surface. Your hair drifts about you eerily as you try to form the words to the question that you need to know.

Colours and shapes blend together in front of you, voices and sounds bombarding you from every direction as your dreamscape shifts and churns, before it finally settles on a single sight.

The sea waves crash against the shore as you walk along the beach, smiling at the expanse of blue before you. There’s something so relaxing about the ocean, how powerful and wild nature is in comparison with a mere mortal like you. The sound of the ocean fills your ears and you close your eyes, glad to finally get some peace when you see something on the otherwise empty beach.

It’s a small, baby turtle, probably just hatched, struggling to get to the sea as it crawls along the beach. You can’t help but smile as you watch it continue on its path to the ocean from a short way off, cheering the creature on inside your heart.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a large bird swoops down from the sky and in the next second, the baby turtle is in it’s claws. It wriggles about, trying to escape, but its efforts are futile... the bird swoops off into the air, cawing loudly, the baby turtle no doubt its next meal.

Horror rises in you and you almost cry out in anger, but a cool hand on your shoulder stops you. Panic rises in you and you whirl around, only to be met with a sight you thought you’d never see again in your lifetime.

It’s the green eyed man once more, but this time instead of the usual, gentle smile he’s gives you in your dreams, his mouth is pressed into a thin, grim line. He doesn’t look at you, iridescent green eyes focused on the bird that’s soaring away from the beach.

“Blame not the predator, for this is merely the way of the natural world.” His piercing green eyes then bore into yours, seemingly burning holes right into your very soul. “The strong consume the weak to gain strength... this too might come to be your fate.”

Terror wells up in you at his ominous words.

“What?”

“Hurry.” His face blurs and fades into the darkness once more, but his voice lingers on. “It’s failing soon. You don’t have much time left. Hurry and *** for your own sake, Choi Chin Hae.”

What?

You’re plunged into icy cold water once more, flailing about in the water. Above you, there’s a muffled sound of a cannon shot, reverberating in your ears like a roll of thunder.

“Run!”

“Run from what?”

But before you can say anything, you choke on the water surrounding you.

For a second, you’re terrified. This has never happened in all your dreams before, even in those nightmares in which you had always been submerged in water, not needing air in the least, not needing to breathe. It was a dream after, not in the least connected to real life. But this?

You cough and cough and cough, the darkness around you distorting around you as you catch glimpses of a table in the corner, a jar of preserved herbs, a teapot. Then you’re thrown back into real life, eyes wide as you try to hack up the liquid lingering in your throat, the sensation all too real to be just a dream.

Something warm and wet splatters onto your palm.

“Shit.” You curse silently to yourself, stepping out of bed as you move to get a rag to clean the water off your hand with. How the hell had this happened? Not once had your dreams ever caused you to actually be physically affected in real life. You guess that you had somehow choked on your own saliva when you were asleep, embarrassing as that sounded, causing you to feel like you were choking and wake up from your dream.

Sighing, you move to the desk, opening one of the potholes at the side to let the moonlight stream in as you search for a clean rag. Spotting one at the tabletop, you reach for it, wiping your hand and mouth clean with an exasperated shake of the head.

“I should clean it tomorrow.” You muse to yourself, as you stretch and prepare to return to bed, setting the rag down on the table.

But the second you do, all thoughts of sleep flee your mind at once, overcome with sheer, numb shock. You simply stare at that innocent piece of white cloth, the moon’s rays shining upon the fabric as if mocking you, laughing at you, jeering at you.

A choked gasp catches in your throat and you fail to catch yourself, sliding down to the ground on weak legs as a single image sears itself into your mind like a branding iron.

The sight of that white handkerchief stained with blood.

[yasmijn]

The world in HD (well, almost)

Today marks the first month after my lasik eye surgery. I went from -8.25 and -7.5 to -0.25 for both eyes (hopefully they could still go down). I can practically see everything clearly. Which is a huge thing to me. I have used glasses since I was 6 years old. 20+ years of seeing the world through a pair of glasses that continuously thickened throughout the years. 

I cannot see anything that is not positioned less than 5cm from my eyes. That meant that I was not able to look at my face as a whole even in the mirror. Selfies or videos are not the same as seeing yourself in real-time. I never used soft-lens because I have large eyeballs and the lens could never stay still. This is the first time in practically forever that I see myself sans glasses. This is a face that is foreign, even for me. It took me more than a week to adjust seeing myself in the mirror.

It probably sounds overly dramatic but I guess my fellow thick-glasses friends could vouch for this? 

I have always wanted to get rid of my glasses because they make me feel vulnerable. I feel most vulnerable when I took off my glasses, and when another person could see me but I could not see them. That creates an asymmetrical power position. I don’t like it. I never did. I don’t like taking off my glasses and trying to smile into a blurry camera to renew my driving license or passport or my ID, hoping that the photo would turn out okay. They never did but it doesn’t matter. But now I know where to look. 

There wasn’t much consideration before I decide that I would undergo the surgery. I had to do it in the brief period when I was unemployed. I didn’t do that much research beforehand, just read a few articles and contacted two eye hospitals. I wasn’t anxious nor worried about what could go wrong. It was a very short procedure, 15 mins for each eye. No anaesthesia, only eyedrops. My fear briefly popped up when the machine was positioned above my eyes and the doctor said to follow her instructions. 

It was very similar to the time when you are on the top of a rollercoaster rail, and the rollercoaster was moving so very slowly, almost stopping, then you questioned yourself - “Why am I on this thing?” - before you scream your lungs out. 

All hail the advancement of medical technology.

p.s. I kinda postponed the surgery because post-breakup days and nights are often filled with tears so I was worried that it would interfere with the healing process BUT actually it could be one of the most convenient time because after the surgery your eyes are going to be super dry and those tears could be put to good use.

[pop-culturereference]

as long as i’m reflecting you

Summary: “I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. I'm you, Hawks."

@hawksweek2020 day 1: Cliché

If you’d rather read on ao3 (or if you want to read my long rant in the chapter notes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203351

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Gen

Rating: G

Characters: Hawks, Dabi

Dabi towers over Hawks as he lies there, helpless, blue flame licking greedily at his face and wings. He can feel himself shriveling under the heat, but perhaps the worst part is this:

Takami Keigo.

Dabi knows his name. Dabi knew all along what Hawks was doing there, knows more than even his friends do—his name.

Hawks panics at the sound of Dabi’s boots crunching on the broken shards of his visor—He can’t die here! The battle is far from over, and he’s the only hero ready and equipped to deal with the aftermath. There’s not much Hawks can do, at this point, but he does have one option. Dabi needs time between using his quirk in order to recover. Use conversation, distract him, draw him in. In Hawks’s experience, villains never pass up a chance to gloat and throw their self-righteousness in everyone’s face. Get a villain talking about themself, and they won’t shut up. Even closed-off Dabi will likely blab his life story, thinking Hawks is about to die. It’s worth a shot.

“The only members of the League I found nothing on were you and Shigaraki. I found everyone else’s background, their families—but for you, I couldn’t even find a name. Who are you?”

Dabi sets a foot on Hawks’s back, leans his weight into it. Hawks pushes himself up with his hands as much as he can to prevent his ribs from snapping. He’s miscalculated. Dabi will keep his secrets over his ego. Hawks accepts his death even as he fights and pushes against it; he can’t die, but he’s going to, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s expecting Dabi to burn him to death right there, and he’s already bracing himself and gritting his teeth against the heat. He is <em>not</em> expecting Dabi to crouch down, one foot still on Hawks’s back, and whisper:

“I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet.” There’s a warm huff of laughter on his ear that has Hawks cringing away, then— “I’m you, Hawks.”

-----------------------------

Hawks wakes up to the horrible smell of antiseptic solution and the annoying tug of compression sleeves on his leg hair. Then, of course, the swoop of vertigo that speaks of some Pretty Heavy Anaesthesia. He tries to cough the smell out of his mouth, but is met with a sore throat—more than sore, actually. It’s like someone’s taken literal sandpaper and dragged it down his entire esophagus. He gags, tries to sit up, is hit off balance by the vertigo, and promptly throws up over the side of the bed.

He leans back against his pillows and wallows in the agony his stomach acid has raked over his poor, abused, sandpapered throat.

“Can I get you anything?” asks a nurse holding a bucket. Oh, good. He’d vomited into a bucket and not all over the hospital floor.

Hawks gestures frantically to his throat with a plea in his eyes that the nurse hopefully interprets as “water,” or “cough drop,” or even, “please just slit my throat and put me out of my misery.”

The nurse hands him both water and cough drops. Hawks’s eyes water with gratitude. Well, either that or pain. Maybe both.

“Sorry, man,” says the nurse as he reaches to adjust Hawks’s blanket. “They had to do surgery on your wings, and you had a breathing tube.”

Hawks croaks in horror. “Wings!?”

“They’ll be all right. You also had some skin grafts for the burns.”

Burns. Dabi. I’m you, Hawks.

“Phone,” he demands urgently.

With his miraculously only-slightly-singed phone in his hands, Hawks shoos the nurse away and starts tapping and typing with frenzied vigor.

His google search shows him an article spotlight on him, featuring an interview with Tokoyami, who apparently saved him. Good kid, that Tokoyami. It also shows him that there were minimal casualties and that apparently the UA students were spearheading the clean-up and rebuilding of the battleground. Okay. Okay. Good, good. All of it good. 

Now, what he <em>really</em> wants to know: Dabi.

To: VP HPSC: 

get me every pic i ever sent u of dabi highest res possible asap

also the cam footage of lov hideout

To the number he’d found on Google for the news network he saw at the raid:

Hi, this is Hawks. I saw your news logo at the fight in Reika. I was wondering if you could send me any footage you managed to get of the villains. Thank you. Here’s a selfie for proof it’s me.

To: Dabi (Villain):

hey ik its a bit of a long shot but like i would love an explanation thanks xoxo <3

He knows Dabi’s claim is ridiculous. He knows, all right? What he’s actually hoping to find is some connection to Endeavor. There’s definitely <em>something</em> familiar about Dabi, and that, paired with the fire quirk, could explain it. 

The first replies he gets are the pictures and footage from the Commission. Hawks zooms in and examines Dabi’s hair. He always knew it was dyed.The roots come in a lighter color, which would make his hair look perpetually greasy if it laid flat; but instead, it makes his spiky hair look just the slightest bit detached from his head. As he looks at the pictures, he’s surprised to realize that he was already biased toward his Endeavor explanation in his head: he was thinking Dabi’s hair was white, like the color of Todoroki Shouto’s ice side, from whoever was Endeavor’s wife. Closer scrutiny shows that it’s actually a dark blond, like Hawks’s own hair. 

That doesn’t mean anything, though.

Dabi’s aesthetically stapled under-eye bags are right in the spot where Hawks has his natural eye markings.

The one picture he managed to find of Dabi shirtless (It’s okay, Hawks reminds himself. I’m a creep with a noble cause. It was for the intel) shows that the stapled purple skin covers the part of his back where Hawks has his wings. If Dabi had wings and they were removed, purple skin grafts or whatever those were would cover up the evidence quite nicely.

And… what Hawks learned during the raid. Dabi’s weakness is his own quirk. Fire. That’s Hawks’s own biggest weakness. That’s almost too much to be a coincidence…what if…?

As he’s looking over the Commission’s images, he almost drops his phone in surprise because Dabi (Villain) texts him back. 

Every intelligent thought in his head evacuates in favor of wtfwtfwtfwtf.

It’s a selfie—a close-up of Dabi’s face, right behind a hand that’s flipping him off. It’s just the puzzle piece that he needs, because the small gleam of light catches on the telltale glint of a contact lens, and Hawks can see where the edge of the blue goes lighter where it’s not covering the colorful iris underneath—Dabi’s eyes aren’t actually blue. And, what Hawks has always thought of as edgy eyeliner looks suspiciously similar to his other eye markings.

Another quick text to: Pres HPSC, VP HPSC:

i dont have any sort of long lost twin brother right??? or like an evil clone or smth??

Almost instantly, he receives a No.

It should be a relief, but his mind’s still going haywire. Dabi…is him? He is Dabi? Dabi is Hawks? Does Hawks is Dabi who? Shut up, brain, you didn’t connect shit. It Dabi, Takami Keigo Dabi Hawks… if Hawks? Who Takami Dabi… he…   

-----------------------------

Maybe I shouldn’t try thinking when I’m high on painkillers, he thinks when he wakes up. 

As he looks around, he realizes he’s been moved to a more long-term room. Instead of curtains, it has a door, and there’s a TV and a nightstand. His phone is dead and he’s not about to call the nurse to come plug it in for him, so he switches on the TV instead, not sure how much he can trust his conclusions on the outcome of the raid if he convinced himself that he was somehow Dabi in the same 10-minute timespan.

The first thing that shows up on the news channel is a report about Hawks, and he’s greeted with the atrocious selfie he took to prove his identity to the news channel. His hair is a devastated battleground and missing completely on his burned side, he’s covered in gauze and medical tape, and his smile looks half-crazed. What was he thinking?

“Hawks is recovering in an unknown hospital, but he looks to be well. The real question is, will the Number Two Hero still be able to charm without half of his famous wind-swept hair?”

“I don’t know, Motome-san. Let’s look at some footage of the battle. I’m sure any lady—or gentleman—would be charmed by someone willing to go so far to protect them.”

Hawks rolls his eyes and scowls, but doesn’t turn off the TV. If they show his fight with Dabi—if he could get a quick glimpse of him—he could turn off the idiot switch in his brain that won’t shut up. 

Instead, what he sees is a streak of red that flies into Dabi’s hand. That’s one of his feathers. Dabi controlled one of his feathers. Dabi has control of Hawks’s Fierce Wings.

To hell with his pride! Hawks repeatedly jams the help button on the side of his bed, and a nurse arrives soon after, out of breath. Hawks feels a little bad for scaring the poor man, but he needs to charge his phone. As soon as it turns back on, he sends out the text to almost every single one of his contacts.

Hi all, this is Hawks. I’ve figured out the identity of the villain Dabi. It should help you lure him out and take him down. DABI IS ME. Text me with any questions. Go after him with fire, if you can.

Within three minutes, Hawks has rejected 7 calls. Text me with any questions, he said. Not call. He won’t be speaking with his sandpaper throat for at least the next month if he has anything to say about it. 

Someone with enough manners finally texts instead of calls. It reads: omw to kill you right now. should have finished the job last time.

Oh, shit. Did he really send that message to Dabi? 

Yeah. He did.

SOS this is not a joke, he sends to the HPSC. Dabi just texted me says he’s going to kill me right now. i’m in the hospital, can’t fight. PLEASE send someone

He answers the next call from Pres HPSC. “Can’t talk,” he rasps and tastes blood on his tongue. The president talks to him and he gives one tap for yes, two taps for no.

“Do you really want us to send someone?”

One tap.

The president sighs. “Hawks, as soon as you can speak, I expect the most thorough, detailed, in-depth report you’ve ever given in your life.”

--------------------------------

With Hawks’s warning, they capture Dabi easily enough. He shows up at the hospital directly and comes face-to-face with Endeavor, who, knowing about his weakness to fire, easily takes him down.

When Hawks visits Tartarus a month later to interrogate Dabi, he wonders how he ever missed it. Without the dye and the contacts, there’s no denying that Dabi is Hawks. He’s left wondering, though.

“Why did you text me at the hospital that you were on your way to kill me? I immediately got Endeavor there. I thought you were a little smarter than that.”

Dabi just shrugs, his newly-regenerated red feathers rustling with the movement. “Obviously not. I am you, after all.”

[renlimotroll]

Everything’s alright (when you’re with me)

Warnings: Personification/ Imagination/ Out of Character

Summary: Five times Siruko-san took care of others, and one time they took care of him

AU where Bintroll are living together! Siruko SickFic since our lovely Bintroll leader tweeted yesterday that he was sick :(

A/N: Hello, Ren here! 🌻 I’ve been stressed again, and at this point I think people are purposely pissing me off so I could produce something good out of it. Sigh. Just a warning, there might be a Mintosu-Siruko moment there, but it really is platonic, I swear. Enjoy!

This story is dedicated to Rin-chan. Rin-chan, I hope you feel better!

(Story continues below)

I

“For goodness' sake Minben-san! Just get in the car! We have a dentist appointment in 15 minutes!” Siruko shouted. “No way! I told you I don’t need it! I”m f—-” “See! You can barely even speak! If it was hard to understand you before, now I have ZERO idea of what you’re saying! Get in the car!” “I want to play!” Mintosu whined. “Get in--” Siruko’s eyes narrowed threateningly, his tone taking a dangerous note.  “--the car.” Mintosu gulped and obeyed. Siruko-san rarely got angry, but when he did, no one won against him. It was a rule in the house never to make him really angry... The guy’s patience was very long and he was so kind, so making him angry means you’ve really pushed all his buttons. It was an impressive feat to make Siruko angry, but unless you want people hating you and shoving pointy things at your throat, no one made Siruko angry. Everyone loves Siruko-san and would die for him. You’d have to be a really horrible person to make Siruko-san angry.

After the dentist appointment, Siruko was driving them home. Mintosu was clutching his swollen cheeks, rambling meaninglessly again. He was high on anaesthesia. “I’m cooking rice porridge for you, then you’re sleeping. Does it still hurt?” “Yadaaa, it tassstesss wike cawvvoard, A dun wanna eat Hakowtarow…” Mintosu complained. Siruko rolled his eyes and sighed.

Later, as he was cooking, he found out that Minben-san was trying to turn on his PC. “What are you doing?! Are you nuts?! You are not streaming! What if you get an infection??” “But I wanna APEX..” “And I wanna play Lost Ark but here I am taking care of you!” If Minben-san was already a pain-in-the-ass when he was healthy, he was ten times more difficult when he’s in pain or sick. Siruko prayed to all gods to give him more patience, and pulled out the plug of Min-san’s PC. The berseker streamer sulked.

Much later, Minben-san comes down with a fever as expected. Siruko stayed up all night, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, making sure he rested well. He gave him his pain medicine and water. He felt sorry for the guy, knowing how wisdom tooth extractions are painful. “Siruko-san…” “Nani?” “Thank you…” A small smile formed at the purple head’s lips. “You’re welcome.” “Are you gonna leave?”  Even though this man is stubborn as heck, he can be quite clingy when sick. Siruko-san thought it was cute. “Of course not. Sleep, Minben-san, I’ll be here.” He brushed the man’s sweaty hair and kissed it innocently, small smile staying on his face.

II

When Siruko-san passed by Jiraichan’s door, he heard some groaning. He dashed inside and didn’t even knock. “Jiraichan, are you okay?!” He saw the man in a fetal position, curled up on his bed, clutching his stomach in pain. Siruko-san hurried to his side, worriedly checking. “You have a stomachache?” “Un..” “What did you eat?” “I... I think I ate too much oysters yesterday.” Siruko shook his head disapprovingly. He warned the pink guy to be careful last night, when he went out with Quartetchi and Ichihachi-kun. Jiraichan likes eating out, and despite being the smallest in Bintroll, he might have the biggest appetite among them.  “Hang on, I’ll get some medicine.”  “Siruko-saaan… I feel…” Immediately Siruko grabbed the trash bin, barely making it as Jiraichan puked his guts out. He rubbed the guy’s back soothingly, holding back his hair as the guy heaved his insides out. “I’ll get some water.”

When he came back, he found Jiraichan listless on the bed, clutching weakly the big teddy bear Quartet gave him. Siruko helped him sit up, forcing him to drink water and the medicine. He also tried to make him eat the broth he warmed. "Yada Siruko-san… I’ll just vomit it…” “You have to Jiraichan, it’s better to have something to puke, plus you haven’t eaten anything all day. Please?” Siruko used his pien eyes, which was effective every time. Soon, after 6 spoonfuls, he let Jiraichan go to sleep, running his fingers through Jiraichan’s hair the way he knew Jiraichan liked. “Get well soon,” He whispered, kissing Jiraichan’s hair, not minding that Jiraichan hadn’t showered and probably smelled like puke. “Love you Siruko-san,” Jiraichan replied sleepily, surprising Siruko-san, because he thought the pink guy was asleep. That earned a soft smile on his lips, humming a lullaby so the pink fairy can rest.

III

Ichihachi was in-charge of dinner tonight, and he felt like making mapo tofu. He already went to the grocery to buy the ingredients and was now in the kitchen preparing everything. Siruko-chan dropped by with a grin, “Need any help?” “Sure! Thanks!” Siruko went to grate the ginger as Ichihachi got the knife to slice the leeks.

“AH!” Siruko looked up instantly, startled at the sound of pain. Blood was dripping from Ichihachi’s finger as the man stood there in shock. Siruko quickly grabbed a towel and Ichihachi’s hand, placing it under the running water in the sink. Ichihachi grimaced and whimpered in pain. The purple head tried squeezing the blood out a little, making Ichihachi wince.

After a few seconds, Siruko washed it with soap and dried it gently. He fetched the first-aid kit and took out the bandage, wrapping the finger with as much care as he can. “Thank goodness it wasn’t deep enough that you’d need stitches.” Siruko commented, making Ichihachi a little pale. After he was done, Siruko placed a soft peck on the wound, making Ichihachi’s face red. “Thanks Siruko-chan,” he mumbled, clearing his throat out of embarrassment. “No problem! Why don’t you let me handle the slicing part and you can just make the sauce.” Ichihachi nodded in agreement, his ears still red from what Siruko did for him. Siruko continued slicing the leeks, a playful smile on his lips.

IV

A knock on his door was heard, and Quartet groaned. With heavy footsteps, he trudged his way over, opening it to find Siruko-san. “Hey, are you okay? You haven’t been out there for a while, and usually it’s me or Minben-san you guys have to drag out of the room.” “I’m fine, just busy working.” Quartet answered, massaging his temples. Siruko didn’t fail to notice that. “Hmm… well, don’t forget to eat, okay?” “Sure.”

Hours passed, and Quartet didn’t notice his stomach complaining. He had a deadline to finish, and he needed to meet it so that he can finally play with the guys and shoot for a video. Someone knocked on his door again, and Quartet sighed, hoping he didn’t look that annoyed. “Tada!” Siruko-san was there, holding a tray of what looks like pasta. It did smell delicious, and his stomach rumbled on sight. Quartet rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Thanks, Siruko-san,” he mumbled, taking the tray from him. Siruko followed him inside his room, picking up the pieces of clothes Quartetchi had always meant to put to the hamper. “Once you’re done with work, you should totally rest. You’re having a bad migraine, Quartetchi.” He did? Quartet-san didn’t notice. He gobbled up the food quickly in his hunger. Siruko scolded him to slow down. “Here, I grabbed some medicine. Drink it and rest, okay?” “But–” “The video can wait, Quartetchi.” Siruko pointedly remarked. “Rest, or you’ll make Ichihachi-kun and Jiraichan worry. Do you really want them coming over here and fussing over you?” Quartet made a face. Nope, he loves them, but the two combined would make his migraine worse. Siruko-san was good at blackmailing. “Fine. I promise.” “Yeah, like I’ll believe you. Take the medicine, I’ll stay here until you finish working.” Siruko pulled out his Switch from his pocket and settled on the yankee’s futon. Quartet sighed, he’s too tired to argue and just let him be. He took the pill and washed it down with the juice, then started typing again.

A few hours later, he felt himself being gently shook. “Quartetchi, Quartetchi,” Only one person called him that. The gray head blinked a few times to clear his vision to see Siruko-san standing over him. “You fell asleep for a couple hours, actually. Sorry, I wanted to let you sleep in more but I know you need to finish that deadline.” Eh? He fell asleep? Oh, there was a blanket on his shoulders. “Thanks, Siruko-san,” he smiled gratefully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He did feel better, and his head didn’t feel like it was being chainsaw-ed open anymore. Siruko-san was right, he needed rest. But Quartet’s still thankful he woke him up to finish his work. The man really thinks of everything. “I’ll sleep too. Good luck with your project.” Siruko returned Quartet’s smile and dropped a small kiss on the top of his head. Quartet blushed, but he immediately felt loads better. Yosh, he was going to kill this presentation. Siruko left the room and closed the door silently, the gentle smile still on his lips.

V

“You don’t need to do this Niisan, I can take care of myself.” Siruko fluffed the pillow while his younger brother stood behind him. Hakotaro's arm was in a cast; he fell down the stairs and his arm received the consequence. Thankfully it wasn’t the arm he used to draw, but it was still an inconvenience. Siruko himself rushed to the hospital after learning the news, worried sick about his brother.

Thankfully, it didn’t need surgery. Hakotaro had to be in a cast for a couple of weeks though, and his Niisan was, of course, fussing over him more than usual. Hakotaro was usually the one mother-henning his older brother, so he wasn’t used to this. Being a worrywart apparently runs in the family, as Siruko was perfectly capable of displaying at the moment. “I know you can, but once in a while, let your Niisan take care of you.” Hakotaro flustered, but let him be. When Niisan sets his mind on something, he’s unstoppable. Siruko may be bad at taking care of himself, but his Niisan is really good at taking care of others.

Hakotaro let himself be tucked into bed and took the pain relievers his Niisan gave him. Siruko sat down beside him, lips turned up wistfully. “Remember when we were kids and you got sick that one time? You never get sick so we all got worried.” Hakotaro snorted playfully. “I do. You cried that time.” “I didn’t!” Siruko mock-scowled. He then started to brush Hakotaro’s hair, humming softly. Hakotaro closed his eyes, feeling like a child again, safe and comfortable with his Niisan promising to protect him. “Thanks Niisan.” “Hmmmm. Get well soon, my baby brother.” He felt a warm kiss on his forehead, and Hakotaro sighed contentedly. “Love you.” ”Love you too.” Siruko continued humming and stroking his brother’s blonde hair until he was sure he was asleep. The smile on his face was fond.

+1

“Dakara… I’m not… ACHOOO!” Siruko sneezed like his soul left his body. His brother handed him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. “-- sick. I'm not sick." The rest of the Bintroll members around the dining table looked at each other in concern, then everyone stood up and moved. Siruko whipped his head back and forth wondering what they were doing all of a sudden, but that movement made him dizzier and he felt like throwing up. “Hai hai, get up Siruko-san.” Mintosu gently but firmly lifted him out of his chair, hands on his shoulder steering him towards his room. “Minben-san,” Siruko sniffled. “I’m not sick.” “Of course you’re not, who told you you’re sick…” Mintosu opened the door then fluffed his pillows and bed. He successfully manhandled Siruko towards the bed, Siruko’s protests and struggles too weak to be even considered as protests and struggles. "You totally don’t look like you’ve been run over by a truck, your eyes aren’t bloodshot red, you’re not sniffing every second, and you don’t feel as if you’re burning in hell right now.” Mintosu tucked him in perfectly. He took a quick peck on the purple head’s forehead, and yep, he didn’t need a thermometer to know that the purple head was burning up real bad. “You’re totally not sick.” “I need to… check the replies and comments…” “I can totally do that, you know,” Quartet came in with a thermometer discreetly tucked in his pockets. He roamed around the room, secretly pocketing Siruko-san’s Switch and cellphone. He would have to look around later for other gadgets Siruko might possess, because if Siruko-san finds those, he’s never gonna rest. “Want me to write you a report?” He snickered. A few moments later, Jiraichan and Ichihachi came in, the latter carrying a bowl of what seems like soup. “Here Siruko-chan, eat this. It’ll make you feel better.”  “But I’m not—” “Yep, you’re not sick.” Ichihachi nodded seriously. “But I made this, won’t you eat it?” No one can really say no to Ichihachi’s persuasion, and Siruko is helpless. He can’t really taste the soup, but the warmth is making his stomach settle. “Siruko-san.” “Nani?” He turned to Jiraichan. “Gomen, can you open your mouth?” “Wh-aaaaii!!” Jiraichan quickly shoved a pill in, covering Siruko’s mouth until the poor guy was forced to swallow the pill. When Jiraichan let him go, he was coughing and hacking his lungs out. “Sorrryyy,” Jiraichan smiled cutely, turning on his charm. Siruko glared at him weakly, choking from the pill. “I told you guys, I’m not…” “Hai hai, you’re not sick, we get it.” Hakotaro came in, Mintosu opening the door for him. He was carrying a small wash basin with a damp cloth on it. “You’re not sick, and we’re not taking care of you.” Hakotaro placed the damp cloth on his brother’s sweaty forehead. “You guys don’t have to do this.” Siruko whispered weakly. “Yeah, and you totally didn’t have to take care of me when I broke my arm, but you did.” Hakotaro placed a kiss on his arm shyly. “You didn’t have to stay as I worked just to make sure my migraine doesn’t get worse.” Quartet kissed his temple. “You didn’t have to bandage my sliced finger. Really, it wasn’t even that bad.” Ichihachi kissed the back of his hand. “You didn’t have to watch me throw up but you rubbed my back and I really liked that.” Jiraichan was about to kiss his stomach, but Quartet stopped him. Jiraichan sighed and kissed Siruko’s cheek. “And you didn’t have to take me to the dentist, force-feed me my pain meds, and put up with my stubborn, difficult ass, but you did.” Mintosu smirked, then suddenly he swooped in and kissed Siruko’s lips chastely in a second. “So no, we don’t have to take care of you, but we want to.” Hakotaro declared. “Because you always take care of us.” Siruko felt like crying, and maybe a few tears did escape. He never realized it, but now he feels so loved and appreciated. He chuckled softly, a warm smile on his lips. “Thanks minna. Love you all.” “We love you too,” they replied softly. Siruko closed his eyes, feeling warm and safe with his family beside him.

Owari!

A/N: Hope you guys like it! This is unedited, so there might be errors, gomen. Please take care of yourselves minna, and make sure to not overwork yourselves like me and Siruko-san! Siruko-san please get well soon T^T Have a nice day! 🌻

[askthedespairkids]

Surgery Begin

*Day 2, Late Afternoon*

Patient is under anaesthesia. Ready to begin. Doc?

Right. Let’s begin.

*Outside the surgery room*

*Pacing around the floor*

Oh...uh, is Kyouko already in surgery?

The fuck are you supposed to be?

Oh, I’m Kyouko’s boyfriend. My name’s Makoto Naegi...are you maybe the person that made the eyeball?

Huh? Oh, yeah.

Wow, that’s really impressive. Are you waiting here to see how it goes?

....uhhhh....

Huh? Is something wrong?

Th...this is the first time my invention has ever been used in a surgery. Kind of making me shit myself a little...

I...I suppose that’s reason to worry, yeah.

But you don’t have to worry. I’m sure your invention will work.

Ain’t you fucking optimistic.

Y-yeah, I’ve been told that.

But, y’know, for all its problems, Hope’s Peak did always scout and create really talented individuals. When I heard the Ultimate Inventor made a special eyeball for Kyouko, I was relieved. I figured that if this person was making it, then there was nothing to worry about.

You...never even met me, but you had that much faith in me?

Of course. You’re the Ultimate Inventor, right?

...

Kyahahahah! You bet your fuckin’ ass I am! The gorgeous girl genius herself, Miu Iruma! You should be so lucky to be in my presence, you freakin’ normie!

I-Iruma-san, you shouldn’t be so loud with the surgery going on.

...! R-right...sorry.

And, uh...thanks for having that kind of faith in me. Kind of weird to not get insulted right off the bat.

(Uh...insulted?) It’s no problem. I’ll be waiting here until the surgery is over, so do you wanna wait with me?

Meh, sure! I got time to kill.

Days until the final battle - 5

[semisolidmind]

I can't argue with that. Okay, Frisk and Chara, how did they feel about Sans and Papyrus, respectively, when they first met them? Especially Chara, did she even know that Papyrus was the most dangerous patient in the asylum? (sorry for the barrage of questions, I hope I'm not bothering you with them >-

(I think I already answered something similar for Frans already, and i'm kinda tired, so I'm just gonna do papara)

Chara:

Anxious. Scared. Just a couple of the emotions Chara felt swirling around in her gut at the moment. She clutched the strap of her nearly overflowing messenger bookbag, wringing it in her hands. The administrator hadn't told her anything about the patient she was being sent to see; their age, gender, whether they were human or monster. All she knew was that she had been shoved into a dingy old elevator and was descending into the bowels of the facility. When the elevator jolted to a stop, the doors squeeking open, she practically ran into the dimly lit hallway beyond.

There was a half-circle desk just a few steps from the elevator, a woman wearing cat's eye glasses sitting and staring sullenly at her computer screen. She looked dead. She regarded Chara for a moment, and without waiting for her to speak, pointed down a corridor to the left.

"Last door. Big, steel, covered in locks. You can't miss it."

Chara mumbled a quick 'thank you' before shuffling the way the woman pointed. Once there, a monotone voice came through a speaker in the wall.

"Miss Chara Dreemurr, here to see the patient." It wasn't a question.

She couldn't muster the will to answer. She was barely holding back tears; why had Ms. Toriel sent her here?

The door came unlocked with a series of heavy clunks. It swung open, and Chara stared into the darkness beyond.

"Step forward, Miss Dreemurr."

She didn't want to. Yet step forward she did. As soon as she was through, the door shut and locked with a sort of finality behind her. She was trapped.

The first thing she noticed was how large the room seemed. The walls stretched upwards into darkness, and floors forward into infinity. There was a long observation window high up on the wall to her right, glowing with cold, sterile light. She could see a few figures in lab coats muddling about inside. The lights came on, suddenly. The room was now partially illuminated with dim, yellow light.

A figure kneeled before her. She assumed they were male by the width of their shoulders.

He was big. And .... skeletal.

Clad in the standard straight jacket and matching pants, the patient was hunched over under the weight of the terrifying apparatus on his back. A metal box with three huge cords sticking out from it, leading to the wall behind him. His face was obscured by an ancient anaesthesia mask, plastic tubing snaking in the same direction as the cords. The only thing visible was the bridge of his nose and his eyes.

Oh gods, his eyes. If Chara had held back her tears before, she certainly wasn't now.

Two dark pits with a single distant, orange star burning in each, trained on her with an intensity she could feel in her soul. Whereas the rest of him looked dead, his eyes were sharp, alive.

As though, despite his confined, near powerless state, he could at any time break his bonds and destroy everything in his path.

Chara was afraid. And she could tell the monster before her knew it.

[tmitransitioning]

i scratch scabs a lot and i dont do well with seeing blood/wounds (basically if i see them or theyre described to me the part of the body theyre on goes numb oops). does top surgery leave itchy scabs (if its not itchy im usually okay but if it itches i scratch it)? would i feasibly be able to have someone else doing anything that needs to be done with the drains? are there any types of top surgery where i wouldnt need drains (im not worried about size limits, im between an A and B cup)?

It definitely leaves scabs, but they don’t really itch because your incisions are numb. They’re also under a compression vest and usually bandaged for quite a while, so you don’t see them until you’re cleared to shower. That can be kind of a challenge if your triggers for this are visual, but again there isn’t itching in the same way that, like, a scab from a skinned knee itches. Fascinatingly you can get ghost itches—I kept feeling like I needed to scratch my left nipple, which wasn’t there anymore. But it’s very distinctly a feeling of “something’s funky here, let’s scratch it because that’s the closest analogous sensation” instead of “this is itchy and I want to pick it”.

You can totally have someone else handling your drains. Usually this is expected by your surgeon for the first few days anyways, because you’re super tired from the anaesthesia and pain medication and it’s easier to have a helper trained to do it. If you have a patient friend you can bribe into doing this for the whole time you have your drains in, that’s a valid approach. Unfortunately, whether or not you can avoid drains entirely depends on your surgeon but tends to be a “no”—a few surgeons are experimenting with drainless operative methods, or using very small drains instead of the JP bulbs, but it’s very rare. I think I’ve only heard of a couple cases ever (I want to say that Kenneth Wolf out of Michigan does no drains, as does Scott Mosser in San Francisco?). If a surgeon you’re considering can do this method, it’s probably worth asking them about it directly, because I believe that it’s chosen on a case-by-case basis and I can’t evaluate you in person. :)

For what it’s worth, I am also a compulsive scab scratcher, and I have a very specific sort-of-phobia where I freak out if something goes and stays under my skin (I’ve tried to rip out IVs a lot). I expected to have a lot more problems with both the incisions and drains than I did; I think that post-op pain meds have a nice side effect of calming you down with anxiety like this, and having your incisions under compression/inaccessible 23/7 makes it a lot easier to stop yourself from picking. Same goes for the drains, weirdly, because they come out through holes in your compression vest—you can’t really avoid seeing the stuff inside them, but you at least don’t have to look at the entry points in your torso.

- Mod Wolf