#they are literally creating a new hole in your body with a needle. that is a very vulnerable position to be in

[uncanny-tranny]

I love giving advice, apparently, so if you are a newly pierced person or are planning on being pierced, here are some of the things I found helpful, as somebody who isn't a professional piercer but has had six plus piercings on my face and body, and multiple ear piercings (which I don't count, since I DIY'd them):

Normal bath towels are your enemy, proceed with caution after bathing. NEVER wipe moisture away from a fresh piercing, always pat it dry

You will hit a new piercing and it will hurt. This is inevitable, just know that you likely haven't destroyed it. Feel free to cry, though, it hurts like hell.

If your piercer gives you instructions, heed them. If you're on restrictions, please take it as seriously as possible

When you're going in for a piercing, please eat or drink something - at least what constitutes as a snack for your body. It really helps

If you're getting an oral piercing, make sure you size down after the healing period - I hadn't sized down for my last oral piercing when I first had the chance, and it was... so annoying to have too-large of jewelry

Not all jewelry is made equally. Do your research on materials, threading, and sizing. I've found that titanium jewelry is really nice for me, and I like it, but that isn't the only option. Make sure you think about your body and its needs and preferences

Close your eyes while being pierced (I found this really helps me)

Don't over-clean a new piercing, twice per day is usually a good place to start

The completed healing period is a very average suggestion - you may heal slower or faster. Try to adhere to that suggestion, though, especially if you do not feel you're healed enough

Personally, I have found that I am completely healed when my piercing feels like just another part of my body, even when it is touched. When my piercings start to feel as though they are foreign when they never do before, I know I likely need to clean them

While I have DIY'd piercings, I personally do not recommend it, especially if you are either not using sterilized equipment, or are piercing a very dangerous place (like the tongue). If you are absolutely positive about committing to the DIY mindset, please try to do due diligence in research at least

Tip your piercer. Body mods are a luxury service, and it takes years to even become a piercer, much less to be proficient at it. Tip your piercer, ESPECIALLY if their prices feel too good to be true - they likely are. Unless you are directed otherwise by your piercer, just assume that you will be tipping them for their services and budget accordingly

Make sure you understand how your piercer wants you to take care of your piercing, and ask questions. There is no question too "dumb"

If you are getting a body part pierced you are insecure about, realize your piercer has most likely seen HUNDREDS of different body parts of various sizes, shapes, and oddities. Your body is not uniquely bad, nor would a good piercer make you feel unwelcome or uncomfortable with your body. If they do, however, DO NOT go through with the piercing. You should feel safe being pierced by somebody, and, indeed, that is the bare minimum.

If you use saline wash to clean piercings, you can DIY it. You will go through NeilMed like no other, and with it being $5USD a bottle, that price can rack up quickly. Make sure you use distilled water and non-iodized salt, though

If your piercing is infected, please don't be too ashamed to seek help. It's in your best interest to make sure you don't get ill or your site gets nasty ("nasty" as in painful)

These are just some of the things I've learned being a pierced person! My piercings are something I absolutely needed, and I do not for a minute regret having them. I want that same happiness to befall you, and that happens when you are able to understand a bit more what goes into piercings. You are, essentially, getting a new body part installed by a pro, and so I don't want you to not be ready for that.

Again, I am not a professional piercer, but am rather a body piercing enthusiast with many different types of piercings. I don't have every piercing, though, so please look at this critically for the piercing(s) that you want or have. At least, treat this like a soft suggestion or ways to help you brainstorm what you will find helpful.

More tips are obviously welcomed, especially if you yourself have more insight or expertise. Good luck to every pierced person or future pierced person reading this💛

[undertrashuouo]

the shriek of something iron rushing rapidly through the air.

Like thousands of needles, the iron petals dig into the skin almost their entire length, creating a scale-shaped layer on your left cheek. the pain is sharp, it can be compared to an injection mixed with a severe cut on something semi-dull, dirty.

the color of lycoris is poisonous, slightly paralyzes the body and quickly rots.

you scream as you retreat further, clutching at a sore spot only making what happened worse. with dusty little hands, you smear blood on your face that came out in rivulets from almost a dozen small holes, dirt, tears that came from pain.

The "creature" opposite, still disguised as a flower, is quietly swaying. The only right decision is to run, run as fast as you can.

and despite the sluggish, injured legs after the fall.. You did it! not wanting to step on the flowers anymore, you run over them in two big steps, stumbling over your own feet, it gets suspiciously hot.. you breathe deeply without understanding why, it only gets worse.

and the only thing you manage is to run a couple of meters before your already overstressed, long-tired eyes begin to close.

you don't notice what's in front of your nose, and how humiliating it was to fall face down, right into the damp earth, already pushing long needle-shaped petals through your cheeks deep into your mouth. It seems that the language was also unlucky.

you scream again, the feeling of your own helplessness and hopelessness corrodes you from the inside. and it's only been half an hour.. How are you even going to survive here.

You are a stupid, sloppy and naive creature, literally nothing to the new world. you will be trampled so soon, trampled with all the anger that has accumulated in them. Just the sight of you will infuriate them. human.

But, now.. sleep. The neurotoxin completely paralyzes you, your tear-stained, dirty eyes finally close. u can only hope..

💫save..

[helloemergencyservices]

Drainage sanitary installation work

How to insert a shower drain

Putting in a shower drain is the first step in a new shower drain installation or a mandatory step if the drain is leaking, broken or the seals have been damaged. Virtually all drain holes are standardized, so literally one drain fits all. However, you need to approach the task properly because in most cases, the drain area of a shower enclosure is difficult to access; if a leak occurs after installation, it becomes extremely difficult to make a simple repair. Although there are several different drain designs, the basics of installation remain the same.

Apply silicone adhesive under the lip of the drain flange. Squeeze it out of the tube and make sure there is an even layer all around.

Insert the drain body into the drain hole in the shower. Slide a rubber washer onto the drain body from the bottom, then slide on a sliding washer to cover the rubber washer. Once the washers are in place, screw on a drain nut. Tighten the nut securely with slip pliers.

Install the top gasket. If it is an O-ring rubber gasket, place it between the pipe and the lip of the drain flange and tap it in place with a hammer and a blunt object, such as a nut driver. If it is a compression gasket, slide it around the pipe and push it into place.

Seal the gasket by screwing on the drain cover if it is an O-ring gasket. Insert needle-nose pliers into the crosshairs of the strainer grid and screw the lid into the threads of the drain pipe.

Sealing a stainless steel sink drain

One style that many people choose to improve the value of their home when remodeling an existing kitchen or building a new kitchen is to use stainless steel. This includes ovens, refrigerators and sinks. An important step in installing a new stainless steel sink is to properly install the sink drain. Improper installation can cause the drain to leak, which can lead to water damage and mold growth.

Turn the sink and sink strainer upside down. Pass the sink strainer through the drain opening in the sink. Slide the gasket, washer and housing onto the end of the sink strainer at the bottom of the sink.

Apply pipe joint compound to the threads of the sink strainer to create a better seal. Hand tighten the lock nut onto the threads. Tighten the lock nut with a wrench. While doing so, press the strainer against the bottom of the sink with your other hand.

Call the Emergency Plumber in Oldham. We are 24 hours available. Call us whenever you want, 01613941085.

[blueberrypossum]

Oh! Sorry! I just thought you did write imagines...but I will tell you my idea...I was wondering how the mud dogs would feel having a kindhearted girl in the group that is a nurse and and each of them (separately) have a crush on her? (can this be a headcannon?) but it’s ok if you don’t do it. I also like your blog and your drawings of ocs! They’re very cute!

Rottmnt Mud Dogz! Headcanons!

If you were the kindhearted nurse of the team and if the Mud Dogz started to develop feelings for you!

( I decided to do this gender-neutral so everyone can get their love from the Mud Dogz! Hope that’s okay!)

Also, anyone can make requests or asks! The reason I don’t really have it placed in my blog is because there are some requests where I just stare and I’m like: I don’t have enough creativity to come up with anything oh heck I don’t want to let someone down. So, don’t be afraid to send anything!

Hope you guys enjoy it!

Loathsome Leonard 

-He didn’t pay no mind to you at first, his group was okay with you joining in seeing that they were going to hurt on most heists so he respects you.

-It takes a long and hard time to get close to Leonard, he’s the leader after all, and he doesn’t want to continue adding people to his group and then see them either leave, die, or backstab them. 

-Of course, he isn’t rude to you, he just doesn’t talk much about plans and heists when you’re around at first and there is barely any small talk between the two of you in the beginning. 

-Until one night he goes off on his own without the other guys knowing and stumbles back terribly wounded and can’t make it back to their apartment, but your place is closer. 

-You were asleep when you heard the strangled yet urgent knock on your door and you quickened your pace when it started to repeat in more rapid strings. 

-You can’t help but gasp at the sight of Leonard, beaten and bloody as if he had just starred in a horror movie and you rush him in, setting him in the chair in your kitchen before gathering your medical supplies you had in your home. 

- In silence you help him take off his shirt and put yourself to work, cleaning and dressing his cuts and gashes, all while handing him water to drink and a towel to play with when the pain gets unbearable. 

“Where are Danny and Mickey? Are they wounded as well?”

“No, it’s only me.”

“Did you...did you go out on your own Leonard?”

“...”

-Your once nice outlook is now casted with anger as you stand and throw the damp cloth you had used to clean his shoulder wound into the trash with such force that it almost startled him.

Almost. 

“You know, for someone who works so hard to make sure his teammates don’t do stupid stunts, you suck at taking your own advice.”

-That causes a surge to burst through him; he had never heard you speak like that before, never spoken your mind with such raw rage. And when he goes to fire something back, your hand is under his chin and shushing him, taking a new wet rag and cleaning a cut that sliced down his cheek. 

-”Next time, just tell them, and me. Trust has to go both ways, and since I trust you -” You tilt his head until he is looking up at you, the first prickle of tension bubbling his skin. 

“You should trust me.”

-And oh he’s hooked now and nothing can smother it. 

-He’s sudden embarrassed and possibly even scared to be around you alone, afraid that his words will slip up or he'll do something stupid in front of you. 

-You’re just so smart and kind, but that more dominant and stronger side of you has caused his heart to beat faster when you enter the room and he despises it. He can’t let his emotions get caught up in the missions and...you deserved better, someone who just wasn’t a lowlife thief. 

-But, he’s warmer around you,  and will actually create a conversation with you about yourself and how you are doing instead of just talking about the next heist. 

Dastardly Danny

-For once, the rat yokai doesn’t have to play doctor in the group once you join the band of thieves. It’s a great change of pace because for one he never went to medical school and only learned to clean wounds just by experience. 

-He would be super intrigued by your understanding of the yokai and/or human body and how to treat and dress each different type of wound. He would probably ask to be placed under your wing in case you were injured or couldn’t make it in time (also to spend time with you). 

-He’s a huge talker with you and would possibly be the one in the group who would fully understand the scientific words you spit out sometimes. 

-Danny knows and understands his feelings pretty well, and once he realizes he has developed an infatuation with you, he falls head first into it. 

-He’ll go to you and make the cheesiest and gooiest jokes that play in with you and your job profession and boy does it make Leonard and Mickey gag.

“I don’t think you can diagnose me because there’s no treatment for being madly in love, dollface.”

“Danny, sit still, you keep reopening the cut!”

-Instead of getting you flowers and chocolates, he understands the expense of medical supplies and you come by to find new needles, clean cloths, and antibiotics all wrapped up and presented nicely with your name on it. 

-After hours of sewing cuts and bending arms back into their sockets, Danny would still crawl over to the kitchen and make you your favorite drink, even if he broke both his legs. 

-Of course, he loves to make you a flustered and stuttering mess, especially during dire moments such as him with a bullet wound and you’re desperately trying to seal the blistering hole. He’ll look right at you and horsley state, “Bleeding out like this doesn’t seem too bad if you keep touching me like dat’.”

-Would def. Give you the nickname doc, nothing will change that. 

Malicious Mickey

-Honestly, you can impress this sweet guy with anything, from knowing what ointment to apply on certain cuts and then easily telling him facts about his internal organs, you make the guy have that astounded look of a child. 

-He probably wouldn’t understand a single word if you explained to him how the body works or why certain medicines only work for certain illnesses and infections, but he will certainly show his wonderment in the information. 

-He would probably start falling for you since you are kind, you place care in his wounds. Not saying Danny didn’t, but you placed colorful stickers on his cuts and then started to bring pieces of candy only for him (for a second, he believed you only saw him as a brother and it worried him).

-Mickey would be the only one in the group to remember the most random facts you have told that shocks everyone, even you. It shows that he listens, just doesn’t understand.

-He would try to make jokes like Danny does when he’s wounded but he’s just so baffled at how fast and calm you work on him that he will just state how pretty you are or how your nose will ruffle up when you’re concentrating on something. 

-Will probably come and visit you at your workplace and you will have to hide him because he’s a literal criminal like jeez Mickey someone can recognize you. 

-When hanging out, he’ll ask certain questions about his specific internal workings and then about Leonard and Danny, and then what were your favorite things to learn from medical school. It feels great for someone to be interested in what you know, and even though you will go into a huge rank about certain things and he just stares at you, you know that he cares. 

-The poor sweet boy would die inside once you two started to date because you got to kiss his bruises and smaller cuts before continuing on to the bigger wounds and he would play with your hair and curl around you after a hard day at work. 

[chicksung]

Can’t You See Me? || Choi Chanhee

part of @ficscafe fic exchange event!

Genre: angst, little bit of fluff, ghost!au

Pairing: ghost!chanhee x reader (ft. younghoon)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: death, depictions of depression, dealing with death, mentions of a car accident

Synopsis: You loved Chanhee, with your whole being. You didn’t what you would do without him. However, it seems like life intended for you to be without him for the rest of your days

A/N: this fic is for rani @letteredwings please enjoy lovely. sorry that it’s a little late :/ this is unedited. please ignore any mistakes

any and all feedback is appreciated

Choi Chanhee promised you that he would love you until the day he would inevitably stop breathing and cease to exist. You always laughed off the comment, thinking it was just a stupid saying he would be saying into old age. You wished you had taken it as a sign, maybe you would’ve been more cautious, maybe this whole situation could’ve been avoided. What you didn’t know is that he had died a liar when he said those ridiculous words. He loved you after he passed too.

Chanhee stood helplessly in the kitchen, watching you stand there with an aching heart. You were wide eyed, shocked and frozen from the news.

“I’m…sorry?” You stammered, hoping, praying, that your ears were deceiving you with mean elementary school tricks.

“Is your partner Choi Chanhee?” The man’s voice seemed down, like he was scared to tell you again.

“Yes, he is. We’ve been together since high school,” You informed him, trying to push down the sickening churning in your stomach.

“I regret to inform you that your partner has passed away. We received a call this morning of an accident. A truck had collided with a car. The truck driver seemed to be okay, but your partner’s injuries seemed to be more serious.” Every word pricked your heart, which was as fragile as a balloon being poked with a needle, “We tried everything, but he eventually passed away. I’m very sorry for your loss.” You nodded, your chest tightened painfully, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. 

“Alright, thank you for letting me know. Have a good afternoon, sir,” You signed off, trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“You too, and again, I’m sorry for your loss,” The line went dead and you placed the phone on the kitchen counter. Chanhee? Dead? No, he can’t be. He had specifically said he would be careful on the road. Tears slipped down your cheeks like sweet raindrops, your knees pathetically giving out as you wailed, yelling out obscenities and curses. Chanhee ran behind you.

“No, I’m right here! Can’t you see-” He went to place his hand on your shoulder when he realised how pale, almost transparent, he was. He sat beside you on the floor, a million thoughts passing through his mind. He couldn’t comfort you, only able to listen to you cry his name in a desperate plea to bring him back to you. Chanhee’s heartstrings tugged harshly, but he was helpless. He was nothing but a memory now, a missing part of your shared apartment, a ghost. 

You stood amongst crowds of familiar faces, his friends, family, distant relatives, colleagues, the list goes on. Who they were didn’t really matter to you, what mattered was the casket being carried away from the church doors and out into the miserable weather. Fitting, you supposed, that it was pouring with rain on the day of his funeral. Attendees moved outside, umbrellas creating a dismal cloud of sorrow above them. It had been two weeks since Chanhee had passed away now, but for some reason you could not bring yourself to cry. No matter how many times you felt his absence, not even after looking in his open casket, no tear stung your eye. You watched emotionlessly as his coffin was slowly dropped into the rectangular hole just beneath his headstone. 

                    Here lies Choi Chanhee

                Loving son, brother and friend

                 April 26 1998 - August 17 2021

                   Until we meet again, my love

You felt a hand slide across your shoulder comfortingly, Chanhee’s best friend, Younghoon’s. You didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t move. You remained stone cold and kept your face void of expression. A different feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Irritation? Anxiety? Frustration? It was hard to describe, which typically meant it was complicated, and you didn’t really like complicated feelings. You could sense a storm coming, and judging from the storm clouds of emotion in your mind, it didn’t look like it would be clearing up any time soon.

A distance away from the gathering of mourners, a pale figure stood solemnly. Sure, watching his own funeral felt weird, but Chanhee could only think of you, and how you stood there, in a similar way to him, unable to display your emotions. He wished for one second, just one, that he could understand what you were thinking, feeling, praying. Maybe there would be a way to ease the pain you felt in your heart? He was technically responsible for said pain, so shouldn’t he try and fix it?

Younghoon had been coming over more, Chanhee would notice when he would be sitting on the foot of your bed, which you had not made the effort to get out of. Everyday, the time you would eventually get up would be pushed back. Before, it was only an hour later, then it was two, then three, then four, until one day, he noticed that you only got up to go to the toilet. He would listen to you cry, sniffle, send the occasional text to someone. Younghoon had seemed to notice, so had made it routine that he would come over at exactly 1:09pm every day to help you get out of bed and try to create a productive day together. Chanhee had memorised the sound of Younghoon’s footsteps, the sound of his keys jingling in the door’s lock, the way he would hum as he made his way to the bedroom. Younghoon had become the life inside of the dead quiet house. Chanhee noticed the way that his best friend would look at you, the sad sigh that would escape his lips when he saw you, sprawled out and weeping. 

“Come on. You can’t keep moping in here,” Younghoon sauntered over to your bedside, crouching down to get a better view of your face.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Go away,” you hissed, pulling the covers over your head, childishly pretending that if you couldn’t see him, he would simply fade from existence. 

“Bubba,” he called out sweetly, tugging the covers out of your grasps, “you’re running low on food. I don’t want you going hungry, and besides, it’s a nice day outside. Whaddya say?” With a low groan, you slowly rose from the safety of your sheets, loose hairs sticking up in wild directions. Chanhee rushed to your side, his cold touch to your cheek sending a cold shiver down your spine. He sighed somewhat sadly as he watched Younghoon help you out of bed. It should be him helping you out of bed every morning, it should be him trying to motivate you with small activities. However, deep down he knew that if it were him, you wouldn’t even be struggling to get out of bed in the morning. He was the cause of your lack of motivation, he was the cause of your pain, your suffering. Every emotion you were feeling right now was because of him, and somehow, in some way, he wished he was still there. He wished he was Younghoon.

“Where’s Uncle Chanhee?” Your young nephew looked up at you with big eyes, confusedly looking around to find his favourite uncle. You sighed softly. You knew you would have to have this discussion with him sooner or later. 

“Uncle Chanhee...isn’t going to be coming today,” you explained, kneeling down to the four year old’s level. Chanwoo’s bottom lip quivered slightly, “Why not?” He asked with glossy eyes. He had been really looking forward to playing with Uncle Chanhee, and couldn’t understand why he didn’t wanna play with him. You knew Chanwoo was too young to understand death, but he had seemingly noticed Chanhee’s absence. You chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to think of some sort of acceptable lie to tell a child. 

“He’s not well today. He says he really wish he could play today, but he had to stay home,” You pet the boy’s head softly, hoping he would understand. The little boy nodded, seeming to understand.

“Can I make Uncle Chanhee a get well soon card?” He asked with wonder in his eyes, and you would have to be a monster to have said no.

“Of course, Woo. Go get your craft things.”

You helped your nephew decorate his ‘card’ which was really just a folded sheet of printer paper, but you weren’t about to rain on his innocent parade. 

“I’m still sad that I can’t play with Uncle Chanhee. I wish he was here,” Chanwoo admitted, writing a sweet message in lopsided messy handwriting. 

“Just because he’s not here in person, doesn’t mean he’s not here in spirit,” you explained, drawing a sun in the corner of the card for the youngster to colour in. 

“What do you mean?”

“It's kind of like magic,” you pondered aloud, “like a hug you can feel from someone who is not there.” The child nodded.

“Yeah! Like it still feels like mommy is hugging me even when she’s not there,” it was your turn to nod. 

“Exactly, Woo! You’re such a clever boy,” you ruffled his soft hair, making him giggle uncontrollably.

You were right, in a way. Chanhee was there, as a literal spirit. He felt a warm surge crash over his pale body, knowing that Chanwoo wanted to make him a card without fully understanding what was going on. A child too sweet for this world. However, it wasn’t Chanwoo he was focusing on. It was you. You weren’t crying, you weren’t wailing his name in agony. You seemed peaceful, collected, like you were watching the sunset over the sea. You were starting to come to terms with no longer having your boyfriend there. Sure, it pained you every morning to roll over and say good morning to someone who never even got into bed that night, but it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. He was unsure how long you would stay in this peaceful mindframe, but only the best storyteller will tell, time.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Younghoon asked softly, eyes just as gentle as his words. You nodded, confident in your decision. You were a little unsure when you first brought up the idea to him, but it had to be done. The both of you walked up the hill in the cemetery, hands intertwined. You two had been dating for some time now, but you always had this lingering feeling that Chanhee wouldn’t like what you were doing. You loved Chanhee dearly, but you felt the same about Younghoon. It had been almost seven months since you received that phone call, but slowly everything in your life was piecing itself back together, formerly shattered after the tsunami of emotions that wiped out everything that made you feel human. You stood at the face of his gravestone, his name etched prettily into the cool rock. 

“Hey,” you greeted, your hand slipping out of your boyfriend’s. Chanhee displayed an invisible smile.

Hey.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence felt awkward and heavy on your tongue. 

It has. How have you been?

“I’ve been doing well. Just trying to get by, you get it.”

Yeah, I get it. Is that Younghoon?

“I was getting to that. I’m not sure how it happened, but it did. He helped me a lot after you passed. I owe him a lot. Mainly ice cream,” You laughed at yourself, partially because of your bad joke, and partially because of how ridiculous you must sound to anyone passing by.

You’re dating now?

“Yeah. I just...I wanted to say thank you,” you blurted, playing with the tips of your fingers.

Why are you thanking me?

“You taught me a lot, Chanhee. How to cook ramen properly, how to make the best oven baked pizza anyone has ever had, but most of all, you taught me how to love. And while I love you so much, my god, you can’t even believe to comprehend it, I’ve found someone else that I love,” You felt tears spring to your eyes. You were the only one talking, so why did it sound like you were saying goodbye? You glanced at Younghoon, who only smiled weakly. 

“Can I say a few words?” Younghoon stepped forward, placing his hand on your shoulder, the same way he had done the dismal day of Chanhee’s funeral. You nodded wordlessly, watching your boyfriend stride towards the grave of his best friend. Younghoon traced the etched marks of his friend’s name before giving a small smile.

“You’ve been gone too long,” he started, giving a sad chuckle, “and a lot has happened during that time.” Chanhee laughed silently at his friend’s words, slumping against the cold headboard of his resting place.

“But I will promise you this. I will look after them for you. I will care for, and nurture and love them for you. It’s what best friends are for, right?”

Chanhee nodded, a friendly smile finally adorning his features. He felt something new, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, peace. His body felt as light as a feather, as if it was drifting through the breeze. He dropped his gaze to his hands, only to see that the aforementioned body part wasn’t there. He was fading, an experience he had thought about many times before, but somehow, it wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be. Chanhee looked to you, and he could’ve sworn that for a moment, just one moment, you could see him, slowly dematerialising out of existence. He wasn’t scared anymore, scared of how you would cope without him. You had Younghoon, the only person other than you that he trusted his life with. 

“Until we meet again, my love,” Chanhee bade his final farewell to this world, taking a small bow and with a slight change in the wind’s direction, he was gone. 

You felt light, like the weight of an entire urbanised city had been lifted off your shoulders. Younghoon took his place by your side once more.

“Should we go home?” He suggested, earning a relaxed smile from you.

“Yeah. Besides, it’ll be dark soon,” you squeezed his hand, your eyes glowing in the reddened flare of the sunset. Hand in hand, you walked down the stone path and out of the overly large rusted gate. It was never easy letting go, not by any stretch of the imagination. You would always carry a piece of Chanhee with you, and even without him by your side, you felt closer to him than ever.

[mommymooze]

A Lesson in Beekeeping

Claude x reader

Warning: bee sex discussed. Honeybees. Bee Stings. The noble worker bee giving up her life for the hive

  Today is a free day. Free from classes and studying and homework. Everyone needs time to themselves to relax and do what interests them. You’re deep in the woods near the monastery, collecting plants, seeds, flowers and mushrooms. Your restful time alone is interrupted as Claude, your house leader, has found you.

“What’s a little girl like you doing out in the dark spooky woods? You better watch out for big bad wolves!” Claude laughs.

“I’m not Lys. This isn’t frightening.  The higher altitude and specific climate divergence varies greatly from what I am accustomed to, as well as the flora has specific diverse qualities that interest me.”

“No need to go all Linhardt on me.” The dark haired male backpedals.

“New place, new plants.” You translate.

“You’re not going to complain about being called little?” Claude elbows you, digging for a reaction.

You roll your eyes. “My stature is undisputed. 95% of the student body is taller than I am. As time passes, the percentage pullulates.”

“So now what am I going to pick on?” Claude shrugs.

“Your pants, most likely, you’re standing amongst cockleburs.” You grin.

Pulling your notebook out, you scribble something on a page, stuffing a few leaves in the book before you return it to your pocket.

The next day, Professor Byleth makes an announcement to the class. “The kitchen is in need of anyone who is familiar with collecting honey or bees.” She continues to read the note and frowns. “Honeybuns no longer available in the kitchen.” She looks panicked.

Dorothea, recently recruited into the house raises her hand. “Ferdinand is much like a bee, send him!”

You raise your hand. “I will assist.” You do not mind missing the afternoon class for weapons training and maintenance, since you are a mage, it does not interest you.

“I’ll give it a shot.” Claude throws his hat into the ring.

“You guys are creepy, wanting to play with bugs.” Lysithia snipes.

Class ends and everyone heads out for lunch. Byleth thanks you and Claude for saving the honey buns.

You finish lunch quickly and head to the back entrance of the Kitchens. Martha greets you and hands you a few buckets and sharp knives. They don’t really have the beekeeping equipment, the keeper left suddenly due to his mother becoming ill.

“Looks like we’re going to have to improvise.” You groan.

“To be honest, I’ve never done this before. Always willing to learn something new though.” Claude confesses.

You frown at him. “You’re just curious because their stings contain poison.”

Claude looks away.

You run over to the Golden Deer lunch table. “Professor, we’re going to need assistance gathering equipment together. I’m going to leave the buckets and knives here, if anyone can add to it bring it here. Dorothea, do you have any stiff wide brimmed hats? I need 2. Leonie, can you bring some scissors, needles, thread and thick twine string or cord. Going to need about 3-4 meters. Does anyone have any thick extra leather gloves? Especially if you don’t want them back because they are going to get messy. A pair for me and a pair for Claude. We also need 2 white long sleeved shirts. Ignatz, if you have a spare that would be wonderful. Need one for Claude too unless he has one.”

You run off to the marketplace to find some dark black diamond netting with the smallest holes you could find. Back at the dining hall the Deer have done the deed and all needed items are acquired.

You create a beekeepers veil from the hat, stitching the netting around the brim of each hat. Wearing the long sleeved shirt you put the hat on, then tie the hat itself on with it’s ribbons so it won’t fall off when you bend over. Then you tie the string over the veil around your neck so that the string goes under the collar of the shirt. Putting on the gloves, you stuff the cuffs inside then wrap the open end of the gloves shut with gauze, pinning then tying it with more string.  At the bottom of your pants you tie them around your ankles keeping them close over your socks. You take extra string and wrap them around bundles of semi dry weeds you pilfered from the compost pile.

You are ready for the battle of the bees.

“How do you know all this?” Claude asks as you head out around the walls of the monastery. The bees are located around the back by the fruit trees.

“Grew up a farmer. Brothers wrangled the larger animals. I was stuck with smaller ones. Chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits and bees. Need bees to pollenate fruit trees.”

“An expert on the birds and bees. Got it!” Claude grins.

“Have you ever been stung by a honeybee?” You ask him.

“Dunno. I’ve been stung by all kinds of bees. Black ones, yellow and black, black and white.” He shrugs.

“Claude! Just like every four legged animal is not just a horse, every flying insect is not necessarily a bee!!” You chastise him. “Honeybees are mostly non-threatening unless you are invading their home or disturb them while they gather nectar.” You stop at a nearby flowering bush. “This bush has all sorts of insects on it.” You take the sharp knife and point at a few different ones identifying them. Bluebottle fly, paper wasp, hornet, sweat bee, carpenter bee, bumblebee and finally honey bee.

“Most of the stinging insects have a sharp, smooth, pointy stinger, like Felix’s sword. The honeybee has a barb at the end of its stinger. Think of Byleth’s fishhook. The smooth stingers, can sting multiple times each putting a little poison in. Honeybees, when they sting, their barb gets stuck in your skin, and it rips off their stinger. When the stinger rips out, the poison sac comes along with it. The bee then dies, they are literally giving their life protecting their homes. Never use your fingers to grab the stinger to remove it, you are squeezing more poison into you. Scrape it off with the blade of the knife.”

“Good to know.” The archer nods.

“We are headed out to work on the bees. As soon as you notice you have been stung, we move away and make sure it won’t kill you. If it itches or swells a little, that’s normal. If you swell up to 10 times your normal size and stop breathing, you’re allergic.” You warn.

“Understood.” The Deer’s leaderman nods.

  At the middle of the orchards are several different tables and boxes.  You put the knife and bucket on the table. Inside of the boxes, with the front completely open, are what look like upside down baskets. They have a small hole in front that the bees are going in and out of at a fast rate.

“First we need smoke.” You instruct, taking out a bundle of semi dry weeds, lighting the ends with fire magic until most of the ends catch fire, then you blow the fire out. The weeds give off lots of smoke.

You tell Claude to wait by the table. You quickly go in front of a hive and lift it, pulling it out of the boxlike shelf and placing it on the table. You lift the hive pulling it to the edge of the table and let the smoke go into the hive for 30 seconds or so.

“Smoke gives the bees something to do besides chase you. When bees smell smoke, they think there is a fire in the hive. That means they have to grab what they can and get ready to leave. The bees are filling their stomachs as fast as they can and will fly off when the heat is too much.  Another benefit of this is the bees will have a full stomach and are less likely to sting you. The bee has to curl its body to the front of it to sting you, like bending itself into a letter C. That is much harder to do when its gut is full, less likely to sting.”

You look underneath again There are several rows of beeswax combs hanging down with bees crawling all over them many bees face first into cells eating. You squat down low so you can look up into the hive. The white beeswax comb on the outside looks like it is empty, the next section of comb looks like it has some nectar or honey in it, and the one after that looks like it is fat with honey that has been covered over by the bees.

“Ok. This is a skep, we try to get bees to build their hives in them. It is thick rope that is bound together in sort of a bell or upside down pot shape. The bees start at the top and attach wax to the top, then create these combs. The combs are built hexagonal cells on each side at the tiniest bit of an angle, facing up in a wide V shape. That is so they can put nectar in it and fill it almost half way. Once the nectar is in, other bees will evaporate the water from the nectar by fanning their wings. Once enough water is evaporated, it turns the nectar to honey. Once it is the right thickness they fill the cell up completely, then bees cover it with wax to preserve it. Then we steal it.”

You stick the knife between the ropes of the skep. You cut through the beeswax at the top and sides of the third comb from the left until it comes loose in your hands. Gently, so gently, you pull it out from the hive. It has some bees on it, but most of them stay inside the hive.

“Honeycomb is made from wax that the bees shed off their bodies. They chew it until soft and build these perfectly symmetrical 6 sided cells. Notice the bottom of the cells on this side matches with where 3 cells come together on the other side. Makes it super strong. This honey is heavy, at least 15 pounds on this one chunk alone. We only want to take honey, and the honey should be covered by wax.”

You tilt the comb to the right and some liquid runs out of a few cells.

“Too watery. Bees didn’t cover it and won’t until it evaporates more. Whatever spills the bees will collect and put into their hive again.”

There is about 16 centimeters of comb at the bottom where there is nectar not covered or just empty. You cut this from the rest of the honeycomb, placing the capped comb in the bucket.

You take the part that is cut off and hold it to the light.

“Sometimes you can see eggs in the bottom of the combs that do not have nectar in them, those are bees of the future. I am not wasting this. I’m going to melt the wax at the cut and put it back where I took the other part out.

Squatting under the hive, you summon magical flames, melting all along the cut edge of the wax and nectar, sticking it into the space you took the top of it from. Holding it up there you wait a bit for the wax to cool and it sticks. You leave the next couple combs alone, looking at the opposite side. You don’t want to disturb the queen or babies. The bees keep their spare honey to the sides of the nest where the queen is laying eggs. You decide to cut another chunk out. Gently taking it out you bring it to the table. There is capped honey about half way down. Then the honey stops and there is different colored darker stuff in the combs.

“The top is capped honey. Bees make it to feed the babies and feed themselves, especially in winter. Next they gather pollen. They even sort it keeping the types of pollen together. Grass, clover, ash, oak, maple, sunflower, if it has pollen bees take it. Heavy protein in pollen. They sort honey too. You’ll see all kinds of colors. Really light colored honey in the spring. Darker honey in the fall. Anyway, cells lower than that is where the queen lays the eggs. When the eggs hatch they look like larvae, you know, the stuff Teach fishes with. The bees feed the larvae honey and pollen. It grows and fills the cell. Once it is big enough it spins a cocoon, the adult bees cover them with wax. They pupate and turn into adult bees, chewing their way out and going to work in the hive.

You continue working as you harvest more honeycomb and try not to destroy any of the hard work of the bees by putting what comb you can back inside the skeps.

“I gotta know. Tell me about bee sex. Everyone talks about the birds and the bees.” Claude grins.

“There are 3 castes of bees. The queen. The worker. The drone. There is one queen in a hive. She is the only female that mates. She mates for maybe 7-10 days of her life, maybe 12 to 16 times. Spends the rest of her life laying eggs. Her body is the longest/biggest in the hive, her abdomen is quite large, swollen with eggs. It sticks out much farther than her wings. Next are the female workers. That accounts for 90% more or less of the population. They gather the nectar, bring it back, put it in the cells, dehydrate it, make wax, build cells, protect the hive, guard the hive, get rid of the dead, feed the queen, clean the queen, pollenate the flowers, collect the pollen and 100 other jobs. If there is work to be done they do it. They have the stingers that sting to protect the hive. Queens have stingers too, but theirs are smooth. They fight other queens, nothing else. That is why there is only one.“

“We can’t’ forget the drones, the males. They have no stinger. They do no work. They contribute nothing to the hive except for the queens genes. They don’t pollenate. Their only purpose is to go out and find a virgin or recently virgin queen to mate with. They mate while flying in the air. The drones hang out in an area looking for their lady love. Their eyes make up 80% or more of their head, go almost all the way around it. Once they see a queen, they fly after her. She flies high and fast and whoever catches her first gets her. He sticks his male part into her female part. Upon his entry, his part breaks off, and he falls to his death. She goes out again for more. Bees don’t mate with their relatives, each has their own smell. So they spread their genes around. “

“Gah!” Claude slaps his arm. “They got me!”

“Get over there by the wall and sit down!” You order him, quickly finishing what you were doing, then rushing to Claude’s side, away from the bees you take off your hat and veil putting your ear to his chest to listen. His heart sounds pretty normal. Breathing sounds good

“Where is the sting?” You’re looking him over.  

He points to his right upper arm.

“How are you feeling?” You’re watching the spot where he was stung, checking his fingers, his eyes, listening to his breathing.

“Talk to me for a bit. Just talk about anything. If your tongue swells up, that’s a bad sign. Talk so I know you’re okay.” You unbutton his shirt and pull it down over his shoulder to where the sting is.

“Gah! Just mention bee sex and you’re all over me!” He laughs.

The bee must have snuck inside his shirt, got into a small hole somewhere. His arm looks okay, the stinger is still in his arm and his skin is red around the stinger, the spot is about as big as a gold coin and slightly puffed up. Pulling a dagger out of your pocket, you scrape along his arm, flicking the stinger out.

All the while Claude keeps talking, counting trees in rows. Asking if you would be taking his pants off if he was stung in the leg…

“How are you feeling now?” You ask. “And that is why your pants legs are tied at the ankles. To keep them out.”

“Doing fine.” He grins. “The sting hurts a little less now. Not sweaty, not a real good poison. Mostly localized.

You put your ear to his chest again, checking on his breathing and heart rate.

“So how many stings before they really get to you?” The master tactician asks, his mind always working.

“If you are allergic 1, if you  are sensitive maybe 20? If you work with them all of the time? Well I had over 75 in a single day and it just made me a bit nauseous.” You say as you help him put his shirt back together. “Want to do more or call it quits? I don’t want to do this when it starts to get dark.”

You both agree to play it safe. Marking the hives that were harvested, you head to the kitchen dropping off the buckets of honey. There’s a few bees hanging out with the honey comb, but the kitchen can deal with them.

Heading back to the hives you finish cleaning up.

“So what did you bring to put bees in?” You ask.

“What?” Claude feigns innocence.

“Don’t be all innocent with me. You want some of their poison.” You grin. “Give it to me. I’ll get some in it and then show you how to get your poison. Oh, remember, male bees have no stingers right? I think we should prank Lorenz. It’ll give him a heart attack.”

Claude laughs heartily, “And here I thought you were nothing but a bookworm with no sense of humor.”

“I can have fun too!” You whine.

“Great, just come by my room any night you want to discuss more about the birds and the bees, eh?” He grins.

“Now you’re sounding like Sylvain.” You groan.

“Oooh, that was a major insult. I am wounded.” Claude laughs.

                                              ***********************

Yes. I am a beekeeper. I love my bees. I could watch them work for hours. The smell of a beehive on a warm summers day is amazing. 

[blackdragonturds]

Mortal Kombat Fanfic time!

Since I got positive reviews on my previous oneshot “Sacrifice”, I thought why not continue? PT. 2 of “Sacrifice”,

Gender neutral reader x Kabal fanfic

(sixteen hours ago) ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“SNAP OUT OF IT KABAL!”

Kano shook his friend’s shoulders as Kabal watched outside the Black Dragon medbay. Anxious and terrified he never let his eyes leave his partner. The medics studiously attend the wounded significant other of Kabal’s nervous tension seemed to worsen.  

“Y/N’s hurt and I have to help them!”

“You did all you could Kabal. You sit here and wait till they’re done.”

Kano walked back into the small room as Kabal’s feelings of helplessness intensify. Seeing how he literally couldn’t do anything else, he felt completely useless.

Biting his lip, he wishes he could find the words to say he was sorry. Leaning against the wall, he felt tears fall down his face with regret swimming inside him.

“I knew I should of stayed on guard…I’m such an idiot…”

He paced the halls at least fifty times waiting for you to be okay. His body quaked with tension as he sat down, hands shaking and heart pounding he could’t relax if he tried.

One of the punk dressed medics handed him a cup of water.

“This should calm you down…”

“I don’t want it.”

He slapped it out of the medic’s hand and growled. The cup hit the wall as water splatters onto the floor. The medic was frozen with surprise and seeing the fires of hell in Kabal’s eyes.

“Let me alone…”

In fear of what could happen, the medic ran back into the small room you were being treated in. He punched the walls, screamed into the dingy pillow on his chair, but nothing helped. He couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking. Soon, a medic approached with Erron beside him.

“Kabal, the patient is in critical condition…”

“Is Y/N all right? What’s going on?!” Kabal demanded.

Erron handed him a red glass bottle and a package of syringes. He informed Kabal,

“Take some of that poison that’s been extracted and follow this recipe I  have here. This will create antivenom you can give to them.”

Kabal hated this idea right from the get-go. He was even more angry and frustrated than before.

“You expect me to put more poison inside them!? You’re insane Erron!”

Erron stayed calm but his voice was firm.

“Listen idiot, I’m not finished. The antivenom is an anticoagulant and will stop Y/n’s blood from turning toxic to their organs. When I was on Earthrealm thats how they stopped snakebites from becoming deadly.”

Kabal looked to the shoes and sighed,

“Whatever…just help them.”

Kabal sat back down in the metal chair with his face in his hands. Taking the bottle, needles and slip of paper, Erron and the medic go back to tending you.

Kabal unfolded the paper, and the recipe gave specific instructions as to how to make antivenom. He felt his lunch rise in his gullet forcing it back down reading the ingredients, procedure and how to administer it. Stuffing the things into his coat pockets, he got out of his chair pressing his face against the glass, punching another hole in the thin wall. He looked back through the small window hoping everything is going to be all right, but in the back of his mind he fears the worst.

After about three hours Kano approaches Kabal with a concerned expression.

“Uh, Kabal?”

“What is it Kano?”

“I have some good news and well, not so good news, mate.”

“Just speak….” Kabal hissed.

Kano knelt down to Kabal in his seat and tried to approach the subject to his friend.

“Kabal…Y/N’s in serious trouble…and their heart almost gave out…”

Kabal’s own heart stopped and began to race as Kano continued.

“That poison was pretty potent shit mate. They’re pretty tough I must say. But the good news is, Y/n’s stable now. They’re gonna need rest for a few days. Despite their right lung almost collapsing they’re fine now.”

Kabal leaned back in his chair sighing with relief. He was glad you were all right though.

“Can I see Y/n?” Kabal asked.

“Knock yourself out. But if you plan on taking them home with ‘cha be careful. Few cracked ribs and stitches mate.”

Kabal nodded stomping his way angrily into the small room where you lay in a bed.

His breath caught seeing you. His anger faded into sadness as he fell to his knees beside you. He broke out crying as he clasped your hand. Feeling how cold you were made him whimper.

“I‘m so sorry…I promise to make D’vorah pay for hurting you…”

He sobbed harder than he had in several years. Feelings of hurt and anger made his chest ache as he feared of losing you. Rubbing your head he could see the bandage strapped over you. Scooping you up from the bed, he was careful not to pick you up incorrectly. He could see veins discolored and peeking out of your skin and pulsating. You looked sickly and pale as he carried you bridal-style and out of the Black Dragon HQ. He walked to his apartment carrying you home worried sick about you.

Opening the door to his apartment, he kicks the door open when he turned the knob. Stepping over piles of clothes and random scattered objects on the floor, he carried you to his bed.

The rock posters on the walls sway to him walking by placing you as gently as he could onto the bed, pulling the covers over your waist. Opening his nightstand, he sticks a small pocket sized pulse monitor he used when he went for a run on your arm, just to be sure. Turning it on, he sat down next to you, trying to keep himself from crying. Pulling the glass bottle, needles and recipe on the nightstand, he sat down, and passed out in his chair, his head landing on your leg. His last sane thought was worrying you wouldn’t wake up. Thanks for reading guys! Peace! 

[nonfuntional-mallgoth]

My Captive Pup (James March x Trans Male Reader)

Author’s Note: agsksh y’all this is literally just my guilty kink & main kink pushed together hope ya enjoy the horror

Warnings: male reader, could be considered dubcon but keep in mind: this is all fictional, he/him pronouns, sexually intimate situations, implied kidnapping, captive reader, trans male reader, cis male/gnc James, collars/chains, light puppy play, 69-ing

———————

You were groggy as always when you woke up. You weren’t sure why James still slid that powder into your treat before bed, but it did help you sleep soundly. You rubbed your eyes a little as you sat up in your soft, round bed, a yawn escaping you.

The bed was comfortable, but made sure you stayed in your place as a dog. It was large, plush, covered in thousand thread count sheets and the softest possible blankets. Your favorite stuffies were tucked in by the pillows, alongside your chew toys, designed for human-pup use. James only had the finest of things for you.

You fondly touched the thick, yet comfortable, leather collar around your throat. It did make you a bit sad he still locked it. You wouldn’t run away, you adored your little room! Not to mention how well you were treated. You were a very spoiled little puppy.

The collar connected to a metal chain bolted to the wall. When you were first brought in there were only four links of metal. You couldn’t leave the bed without permission, had no hope of doing anything without James. Now you had a much longer lead after a month or so of obedience, not that it took much discipline for you to behave.

You were most thankful that your new chain could easily reach the bathroom, and you didn’t have to ask anymore.

You pushed down the blankets, exposing your thinly covered body. You could of course wear anything you liked, but you chose a very soft sweatshirt and a high-end brand of boxer briefs. James allowed your binder when you needed it, but considering most days were spent lounging, sleeping, fucking... it wasn’t always nescasary or safe. Both you and him knew you were his sweet puppyboy.

You made your way to the bathroom and brushed your teeth, washed your face with cool water, and played around with your hair until it looked the way you wanted. You took a moment to stretch your legs and walked around the room, chain clinking quietly behind you. You paused at the record player, the bin beside it full of every album you had ever loved. You plucked out a well-loved old copy of something James had suggested to you, a collection of 20s swing music. You slid the record from its casing and were careful dropping the needle. You’d be devestated if you scratched the vinyl.

The music echoed gently off the old walls of your Cortez room, volume low but hauntingly soft as well. Your attention was only drawn from the instrumental by the lock on your door clicking open.

A small wiggle went through your body, as if you would wag your tail if you had it in. You knew who was behind the door, and despite it only having been a few hours, your heart was aching for him.

James stepped inside with a grin towards you. “Ah, you’re awakes already. I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting, pup.” He hummed, accent dripping thick like honey as he set his keys by the door where you couldn’t reach.

You shook your head, smiling big. “No, no not at all. I only got up a bit ago.”

He stepped forward and cupped your face, his hands heavy with the scent of washed-away iron. “Good. I’d hate for you to get impatient and do something brash.” He chuckled, planting a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I would never.” You teased in return, hands coming up to rest like paws against his chest.

He hummed quite fondly, brushing a hand through your hair and holding the back of your head in place. “Would my puppy like a morning treat? You have been oh so good lately, so patient while I work and slave away to keep you safe here.” He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, pulling it down to make you open your mouth for him.

You gave a slight groan as he controlled your movements. “P-Puppy would really like a treat, thank you, James...”

His eyes brightened when you used his name. He had instructed you to call him ‘master’ or ‘sir’ until you felt comfortable enough using his first name. This was a sign you truly did love the space, the life he had created just for you.

“Perfect. Be a good little thing, do just what I say. We’re going to try something new.” He purred, wrapping the chain coming from your neck around his hand.

Your heart lept as he led you back to your bed by your leash, the pressure of the collar on your throat enough to get you damp between the legs. He laid down on the bed fully, popping open the button on his trousers and undoing the zip painfully slow.

“Slide down your boxers, pup. Then you’re going to sit here.” He smirked and pointed to his own face.

Your face slowly flushed a deep shade of red as you nodded eagerly. You hooked your fingers into your boxers and pushed down down your thighs and to the ground. By the time you stepped out of them, James was holding his mostly limp cock in his own hand, eyes focused between your legs.

“Good dog.” He praised, rubbing his thumb along his shaft as his free hand gave your leash a firm tug. “Come here now, sweet boy.”

You gave a soft whimper when pulled forth so harshly, not that you didn’t like it. You walked close to him and climbed onto the bed, shifting to straddle your legs on either side of his head. He purred low and predatory as you laid down atop his body comfortably.

“So well behaved, so pretty.” He hummed, both hands moving to cup your ass and squeeze. “Take your time pup, but I expect you to take the whole thing if you want to be good.” His thumbs dipped into your folds, spreading them apart.

You could feel his breath on your hot, drippy entrance. “Y-Yes James, I wanna be good.” You mumbled out as your own hands moved to wrap around his thick cock.

He grunted and rubbed a finger agaisnt your tight little hole, lips pressing to your cheek affectionately. “Good boy, good pup.” He muttered as he rocked his hips up into your hands.

You opened up your mouth and ran your tongue along his slit, taking the head of his dick in your mouth and sucking gently. You wanted to start slow, really give James a show. You wiggled your butt in front of his face, only to feel his fingers dig harshly into the pudgy skin there to keep you still.

He pressed his face in more suddenly than you expected.

The wet tongue rubbed back and forth along your folds, slit, and tiny cock. He held your hips and ass tightly, kneading the muscle to keep you relaxed. He breathed heavy through his nose so his mouth could stay busy.

You moaned softly as you worked on starting to bob your head down further around his dick. You took in the first inch of six, tongue rubbing each vein as your eyes fluttered closed. You almost wished you could witness this from the third person, watch yourself getting tongue fucked with a cock down your throat.

James muttered muffled praise as you sucked him off so well, but was clearly busy with his own task. His thumbs slipped back down and both pushed inside of you before pulling outward. He spread you open like it was nothing. He growled loud at the sight of your soaking entrance. “That’s it, so perfect for me little puppy. You’re always perfect.” He moaned before spitting inside of you.

You whimpered loud as you tried to clench closed, with no luck of course thanks to his hands keeping you on display. You pushed down the next two inches of his dick, swallowing around him as you tried to suppress the gag you felt coming. You managed to do so, tongue swirling around his shaft slowly.

The noises James made were feral, animalistic. He was a very composed man until it came to you. His tongue plunged inside quick and he let you finally tense around the intrusion. He ran the wet muscle around every ridge and wall inside you, fucking it back and forth without warning or time to adjust.

The cry that left you was so weak but barely audible with the shaft so far in your mouth. You quickened you’re movements in an attempt to take him in all the way each time. You managed to bury your nose all the way down to his balls just as his tongue was pushing flush to your cervix. You had no idea how he got that far in, but it made your eyes roll back into your head.

His own growl was brutal and threatening as the thrusts of his tongue became almost violent. A strong hand slipped down to your belly, fingertips clawing down your happy trail to your sweet little cock. He pressed two slick covered fingers to it and rubbed in the way he knew would drive you crazy.

The sounds that filled the room were obscene.

James was teetering on the edge as he yanked your chain harshly, pulling you off his cock entirely. He pulled from your folds only to bite down hard on your cheek, growling loud. “Hands.” He commanded flatly.

Both your hands wrapped around his now soaked cock. Pre-cum and spit mixing together as they slid down all over him. You pumped fast and eager, mouth softly open and eyes winced closed as you knew how he wanted to finish.

However, you were his priority. You would be allowed to climax first, always.

His tongue flicked and moved back inside of you as his digits stroked your dick frantically. He grunted and groaned inside of you, vibrations reaching every inch of your wet walls. He swallowed down all the slick you granted him.

Orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You cried out weakly as your hips shuttered and bucked forward. Your slick cum slid all along his tongue and down to his face. Your movements on his cock got sloppy, but he loved it.

He came hard, thick white cum splattering over your mouth and face. He throbbed in your hands, twitching until you rubbed out the last drop. His dick slowly softened in your grasp as you planted heavy and shaky.

James slowly removed his tongue, his own breath labored as he chuckled low. He kissed your poor reddened folds and licked a long strip over them. He swallowed and licked clean all of your cum he could before his hands moved to your sides. He flipped you down on your back and sat up, leaning over you. He grabbed your chin harshly, tilting your head around to observe how his jizz dripped along your features.

He smiled as he watched you lick your lips clean and grin so shyly up at him. He leaned down and ran his tongue over your jaw and up your cheekbone, swallowing down some of his own cum. “What a good puppy you are. Well behaved, good listener. My good pup...” he purred sweetly, rubbing a hand back through your hair to massage your scalp. “How are you feeling?”

You hummed lazily and soft, hands reaching up to cup his face. “So good. Thank you, thank you so much, James.” You mumbled out with a weak, crackling voice.

He laughed softly and kissed your lips, salty cum in both your mouths. Neither of you cared. “I’ll clean you up, lay here for me. Be good.” He said a bit sternly as he got up and walked to the bathroom, plucking his trousers from the floor as he did.

When he came back he looked much cleaner than you. He must have washed up, rinsed his mouth and hands, put his trousers back on. He had a cool rag in his hand as he sat beside you, nudging your legs open. “You took your treat very well, just like a good pup should.” He praised as he wiped away the cum first from your face, and then your cock. “I can’t stay long today, will you be alright alone?”

“Mmhm, I’ll be fine.” You muttered with a light tone in your voice. “Was I good..?” You asked, even though you knew the answer.

He laughed softly and laid beside you once you were clean, rag set aside for now. He cupped your face and brought you in for a gentle kiss. “You were very good little puppy, so good. You know that, don’t you?”

You giggled tiredly and nodded. “I know m’a good puppy. Your good puppy.” You pressed a finger to James’ nose, effectively booping him.

He couldn’t help but grin wide when you did that. He grabbed your wrist and kissed your palm. “Of course you know.” He kissed up each finger. “Take a nap, sweet thing. I’ll have one of the staff bring you something for breakfast.”

You snickered a little, grinning big. “I already had breakfast.”

James rolled his eyes but kept his smile as he buried his face against the space just above your collar. “You are awful my darling.” He said with a slight growl as he nipped your skin.

You squealed dramatically when bitten but didn’t stop smiling. “Mean!”

He laughed and you found yourself doing the same. He pressed your heads together, laying with you for as long as he could until his responsibilities called him away from your side.

He would be back soon enough, with more treats for his little puppy.

[d20owlbear]

oh can you please share the grievances you have over twilight/ the vampires in it or what kind of research you did for your wip? how much blood would the cullens drink?

oh ur in for it now nonnie (thank you i love talking about my stupid lil research holes) 

 1) as we already kinda knew, the source material is... somewhat racist (please read the article here on how Twilight affected the Quileute tribe: https://studybreaks.com/thoughts/twilight-quileute-tribe/ and if you can donate anything to help them, this has been ongoing since 2017 to move to higher ground due to glacier's melting and moving the sea level up https://mthg.org/) 

(as a note, all my opinions here are opinions and I'm NOT pointing fingers or blame at anyone who likes the franchise and story, you're allowed to like what you want, just like, look at it critically) 

-- because of this a loooot of things are considered imperfections including but not limited to: scars and tattoos (cultural or otherwise). Both of these things are 'wiped out' or otherwise reversed by the process of being transformed.

 -- Now, i get scars to a degree, especially in the source material and the wild mistreatment all the vamp characters have gone through (at least of the Cullens/Olympic coven, + some others I'm sure, god is it fucking b l e a k) but that brings up the next point: 

 2) THE SCIENCE IS BAD, now i know what you're gonna say; you're gonna say "Jam, why do you care about the science? It's a *vampire* story! It's fantasy and supernatural, why the science?" because, my dear nonnie, i have standards. and those standards include obsessively researching every single rabbit hole that comes up. 

 Now, I *know* you shouldn't have to research everything ofc, that's fine, even in published fiction, whatever, it's *fine* but we’re talking about MY issues and i get to choose what they are. And it is a personal affront to me because TATTOOS ARE **NOT** SCARS, it's why they don't *heal* like scars do. Sure they get less vivid over time but they *bleed* and blur, they don't get smaller or disappear entirely! If your tattoo scars, it means it was done wrong!! 

(science time: tattoos keep their color because the needles pierce and mangle/kill the cells underneath while depositing ink—this is why tattoos *can* scarify if the wound is made big enough and it's why they're considered open wounds in the first place—and your macrophages (the thing that eats infection bits and things that don't belong in ur bloodstream and body, this is why you can't have the wrong kind of blood transfusion or it'll severely fuck you UP) eat the ruined skin cells in order to make room for new skin cells! EXCEPT it can't digest and get rid of ink! so, the new cells are created around these macrophages and *also* have the ink deposits. ink is however broken down by light and through sheer determination of your body over looooong periods of time, which is why you still gotta treat your tattoos nice) all of this just to say, wtf the tattoos should have BETTER staying power because the ink is no longer getting broken down by new macrophages and like, you're no longer vulnerable to UV or whatever through your skin. Common' StephMeyer you coulda had some real fucking hot tattoos in this world, some old school shit like Godric from True Blood. smdh 

 3) if you're still with me i applaud you cause here's another thing.. .why the FUCK do they kill every human and like animal they feed from??? OK, ok, like so, i get it, humans can only lose so much blood, animals too. (pls excuse my shitty math, i am NOT a math gay by all rights and i actively have friends whom i love that ruthlessly point out I forgot how to add things once. however, this is more or less right, the margin of error is gay just like me) 

 humans have: 4.5-6 L // 9-12 pints of blood lose to die: 4.5-6L // 4-6 pints?? of blood (this conversion killed me, no one tell me the right numbers if they're wrong) Generally, human stomachs have a volume about one liter, which is a little more than one quart (or 2 pints) tho it *can* expand to fit more none of the vampires are ever shown with or mentioned to have a distended stomach after feeding so we can assume that's not happening here. 

 "Hemorrhagic shock begins when you lose about 20 percent, or one-fifth, of your body’s blood or fluid supply. At this point, your heart isn’t able to pump sufficient amounts of blood through your body." (source) 

-- this being said there's more blood that a human can *technically* lose than a human sized stomach can generally fit into it. HOWEVER you will die unless seen to very quickly and before hemorrhagic shock sets in. In twilight saga canon it's pretty clear they Do Not Do This. So like, whatever, super wasteful deaths sure, fine. Keep the vampires unknown, whatever, you do you boyos. 

But also like... the Cullens straight up kill animals too, that's not *actually* what vegetarian means. BUT they don't necessarily ahve to, they apparently eat so messy that it's hard to tear any of them away from feeding and gorging themselves *every two fucking weeks*. They're wiping out the local herd of damn pigs and other big prey and/or predator animals, the fucking ecosystem is in shambles probably. that's right u heard me, 2 weeks which brings us to the next point: 

 4) they can only go 2 weeks, after *gorging* themselves full and killing an animal *EACH* until they ahve to do it all over again. holY SHIT THATS SO MUCH. that's so many dead people or animals, like that's over 100 animals and/or people a YEAR PER VAMPIRE needed to feed these people. And if they *don't* eat, their eyes turn black and they go just full fucking feral and kill someone anyway, possibly multiple someones. 

christ, just do the math, i'm not a math gay but Meyer isn't gay and has no excuse. i'm begging you, one damn thought about the implications of what you're writing, just once. (once again, you're allowed to like this, these are my personal issues with the source material and the "clearly heven't thought through the implications of what you've said" is my largest pet peeve ever ESP in stories and worldbuilding) 

 5) the powers are cool but have no consistency and is built to take advantage of. Which i will. to give my boy FANGS like he goddamn deserves in this godforsaken au/fusion. Finally, and not least, 

6) why the FUCK don't they have fangs this is a fucking vampire fic, it's a STAPLE for a monsterfucking reason damnit. 

 Anyway, dracula and gatsby are both public domain and i get to say how I'm writing them. Vladdy Drac is a bro and so is Jay Gatsby, Crowley's older than both of them in this, and they're all friends because he deserves nice things sometimes. Fuck it. 

 Look at it Meyer, you took a perfectly good gateway monster and turned it into a shiny de-powered superman human. terrible.

[terminally-karkalicious]

allow me to rant about the only thing that has been in my brain for the past two months and that is doll customizing babeyyyyy

i know there’s a 90% chance that you wont give a Shit about any of this but here we go anyways

SO first you gotta choose a doll. preferably one with a high range of motion to avoid creating new joints or having annoying limitations like not having elbow joints for some fucking reason. what the fuck mattel. give monster high dolls back their ball jointed shoulders and elbow joints. smh

the most common dolls ive seen used as bases are monster high and ever after high. most customs ive seen are highly stylized so the stylized face molds work well for those types of dolls but dolls like barbies are good for when you want a more realistic face-ups.

once you’ve got your base picked out you gotta wipe that bitch’s face off with like. acetone or nail polish remover or something strong like that. you can also use acetone to shrink doll heads which is cool as hell imo. n e way once the face is wiped you gotta chop off the hair and remove the hair plugs from the inside. ive seen this done several ways but the easiest and most common way ive seen is to dunk the head into boiling water for ~30 seconds until it gets squishy and malleable. once you’ve got the head back, you can use pliers (i think tweezers would work in a pinch) to pull out the hair plugs which are kinda icky because theyre covered in glue and other gross shit. ew

now you must decapitate the doll. dunk em back in the boiling water to soften them back up then just tug the head off. the neck pegs look funky and are usually a different color than the body so thats cool ig

once the head’s off, you can start the face-up which is basically just giving the doll a new face using stuff like watercolor pencils, acrylic paint, gouache, and a whole lot of other stuff. hell ive seen people use person makeup on these dolls.

next,,,,, hair. there’s about twenty million ways to do hair from gluing yarn wefts to sewing to rerooting with purchased nylon doll hair or yarn wefts but i’m gonna talk about the most common one ive seen which is rerooting and gluing.

before you can reroot, you need doll hair. which, as i mentioned, can be bought at stores like the doll planet or made at home with yarn in literally any color. have fun with it! make rainbow hair or something idk

to make homemade wefts, you take some acrylic yarn, cut it twice as long as you want the hair to be (keep in mind you can cut and style the hair once it’s been rerooted), fold them in half, and tie it to something sturdy like a wire coat hanger for the next step.

once you’ve got your yarn tied to your hanger, use a pet brush and brush the yarn until it’s wispy and looks like hair. then take a straightening iron and iron the weft flat. then remove from the hanger and boom. hair wefts. ta-da

to reroot the wefts onto the head, use a rerooting tool (which can be as simple as a needle with the eye cut at angle) (just google it please i’m shit at descriptions)) to poke small sections of the hair into the head. you can use the pre-existing rooting holes for your own reroot as they’re usually pretty reliable. to reroot, take a small length of you doll hair (about 10-15 strands), loop it in half, and put the middle of the loop into the reroot tool. poke the end of the tool with the hair on it into the pre-existing hole and remove the tool. the hair *should* stay in and fill up that plug!! also remember to plug thickly at the hairline and part of the hair where it's most noticeable. it doesnt matter as much in the center of the head as that’s not usually visible on the doll. once you’ve rerooted, squeeze in strong glue through the neck hole and squish around the head to make sure it covers all the plugs and secures them in place. then pour hot water onto the head to make the hair lay flat for styling later.

also, you can reroot yarn directly into the head to make thicker, more textured hairstyles. and since the yarn is thicker, you dont need to glue the inside of the head for the hair to stay in place!!

if youre not doing body modifications (which are also cool as hell) then it’s time for clothes but clothes are boring and i like body mods more so i’m gonna rant about them instead

the material ive seen most doll artists use is apoxie sculpt, which is like play doh on steroids. it comes in two parts which you gotta mix together for some reason. why dont they sell it pre-mixed. what was the reason. also once it’s dry it’s super super strong and you can sand it, drill into it, paint it, and all kinds of stuff. very nice and i want some for myself.

you can use hand saws and drills and shit to whack off doll limbs to make stuff like digitigrade legs or new joints. also dont be afraid to use other mismatching doll parts when customizing like heads and bodies and forearms and hands and shit. it literally does not matter if youre gonna recolor the doll anyways so have fun with it. make frankenstein’s doll if youre feeling spicy

accessories my beloved. stuff like tiny beads and clay baubles and shit will literally transform the entire doll plus they’re adorable and multi-purpose

i suppose i must talk about clothes now. ah well. you can find great clothing patterns if youre new to customizing on other customizer’s etsy shops and probably google although those will probably be lower quality than paid pattern pieces. and keep in mind that if it exists as clothing irl, you can likely make it doll-sized. there are literally no limits to your clothing options as long as you can execute your idea.

the once all your components have been made, you can assemble the doll again!! and finally see what all the parts look like together!! very cool 10/10 stars.

ight that wraps up my doll rant. i could really go into more detail on certain parts but thats a whole other rant for a whole other day smh. sorry for fucking flooding your inbox ender ahaha……………. you asked for this

little did you know that dolls have been one of my favorite things since like ever. if i can read a 25 chapter long fanfic i can read this B)

mattel definitely fucked up by completely ruining MH doll designs and just stopping EAH, alot of their profits most likely came from people who collect and customize dolls and by changing MH doll designs/Stopping EAH dolls they 1. most likely lost a small (or big if we're not jus talking people who customize dolls) part of their profit and 2. made it harder for doll customizers to make dolls/get commissions out rather quickly because they probably have to waste more time making joints or learning how to make joints.

EAH/MH dolls (specifically MH dolls) had AMAZING MODELS because there was so much variety with height, face shapes, etc (my favorite molds had to be the short/tall dolls and the cat molds because of the tails) and doll customizers really went all out with enhancing a molds unique features. The only "downside" abt MH dolls is that they (or atleast most)(from what i remember)) had slimmer faces but wider eyes while EAH dolls have wider faces with slimmer smaller which left a canvas for the face and not the eyes (and vice versa for MH dolls)

I've never seen any videos where a barbie is customized (maybe because i absolutely despised barbies at the time) so I'll definitely have to check those out but they seem to be good for realistic makeovers. I've seen like like semi realistic makeovers for EAH/MH dolls that were pretty good too tho (pretty sure mostly EAH dolls since yk MH dolls were used for creature makeovers while most EAH dolls weren't)

yeah i was always amazed by the head shrinking with acetone. honestly i still am?? idunno i have no idea how that chemical bullshit works. Ive seen a few of uh makeovers that just pain over the face (in multiple layers ofcourse) but that's usually when they're painting the entire body a different colour (again usually when they're turning a doll into a funky little baby man). I've also seen a few that just chop the hair off and take out the hair plugs yk without uuh like softening the head or just go straight for the hair plugs after taking off the head (i used to do that it was funny to me??). i always really liked when they used watercolour pencils or just colour pencils in general to draw/sketch on the face cause like wow ur drawing on ur doll without ruining it?? kinda epic maybe even poggers and pogchamp?? oh god my brain is failing wjshsmsj.

Watching them putting the hair back on the doll was, other than the face stuff, was the BEST part for me. Favorite type of hair was iuuuuuh was either thick yarn or brushed out yarn. Literally worship the people that would reroot the hair, theyre the most patience people on this earth!! it's literally insane but i guess that's what happens when you've been doing that for years? you guess kinda get used to it. when they put glue into the head does it just become stiff?? like it's just a clump of dried glue or does it like..hollow out again??

dude you literally cannot convince me most of the supplies used for doll makeovers. APOXIE CLAY LOOKS SO FECKING GOOD. its edible and i will die on that hill. The body mods are literally so amazing!!!!! it's so impressive how theyre able to imagine certain features THEN LIKE ACTUALLY MAKE IT LOOK ACCURATE TO WHAT THEY WANTED TO LOOK LIKE AFTER LIKE ON TRY (or many yk trial and error is very necessary for..everything). Absolutely loved when doll customizers would saw off a dolls legs and use different ones or just completely get rid of the torso to use a different one. it's like uuh that one big guy that's mismatched and sewn together. very cool. The accessories are so fun!! just small little details you seen really need but can add because it's your feckin doll!! I used to be absolutely obsessed over the doll clothes i would find on etsy, so much so that i started sewing shitty shirts and dresses for my uh "customized" dolls (they were absolute HORRORS idk WHY my mom let me feck up my dolls like that).

Thank you for this!! i haven't been able to talk about any of my interests for a while and this just really made me happy!!

Question fer u my fellow MH/EAH enthusiast: what was your favorite MH/EAH movie/episode and doll series. Mine was The fusion dolls (MH obvi) and that MH movie "Haunted" cause we got to know more about Spectra :D

[himbowelsh]

paralysis and baberoe for the injury/sickness meme please?

a little fall of meme can hardly hurt me now  ( accepting )

AN:  So, this spiraled a bit, and turned long...  you probably didn’t sign up for all of this, but whoop, here’s a fake snake species created just for the angst!!

It happens too quick to see — even in the aftermath, when they’re both blinking at each other in confusion and wondering exactly what the hell happened. This is what Babe knows for sure: he and Doc Roe are trudging through a wooded shortcut just discovered by Janovec this morning, because Babe wants to show Gene this really cool lake he found, because Gene seems like the sort of person who likes lakes… and Gene is a few steps ahead of him, moving fluidly through the woods, and he’s saying something Babe’s only half-listening to because the sunlight dappled through trees to hit Gene’s inky hair is something to see, okay, and then Gene must ask him a question he completely misses because Gene turns to him, and his eyes are smiling where his mouth isn’t, and he takes a step back…

Crack. Snap. “Shit!”

So, there are snakes in Austria. This would have been a nice thing to mention beforehand.

“Gene?” The word leaves Babe’s mouth like a foreign object. He can’t really process what he’s seeing, is the thing — and from the look on Gene’s face, neither can he. He's bent forward with one leg lifted lightly over the ground, hand clasped to his ankle. It takes a minute for Gene to look up at Babe again. When he does, his mouth is tight around the edges; all traces of that silent laughter are gone.

“This might be bad,” he declares, and lifts his hand to show blood.

“Jesus Christ!” 

Babe can’t help cringing, his entire body arcing into himself, like the two tiny punctures on Gene’s ankle are the goriest sight he’s ever seen. Far from it, really… but just the idea of some slimy thing digging its teeth in him stings, never mind actually looking at it. The wound on Gene’s ankle is bright red, leaking blood like twin bullet wounds. It’s not spurting out or anything, not like when Jackson got hit, but… Jesus, those are bites. Goddamn bites. Babe is so busy staring at the snake marks that he almost forgets Gene is staring at him.

“Don’t you pass out on me, Heffron,” Gene orders, voice sharp as steel. 

Babe snaps back to attention with army-honed quickness, a wheeze escaping him as he straightens up. “No… no way. It’s fine. Christ, it’s okay, Gene.”

“Actually, it’s poisoned,” Gene remarks mildly.

“What?”

“Two holes means venomous.” Gene’s hand hovers over the ankle, like even he’s uncertain what to do about it, and that scares Babe more than anything else. “Not to mention, it burns like hell.”

Suddenly, the simple act of standing feels like running through open fire. Babe turns his attention to the ground, hopping on his toes, like more snakes are about to slither in and eat him alive… but he only catches sight of movement on the ground not far from Gene. A sleek brown serpent slithers away into the bushes. Other than that, the forest floor is bare.

“Think I stepped on it,” Gene continues, voice tight and aggravated. “No wonder it bit me, but he sure blends in — hopping won’t help you, Heffron, cut that out.”

“Who decided not to mention snakes?”

“You didn’t listen when they mentioned snakes,” Gene corrects. His chest is kinda heaving, like drawing breath takes more effort, but that’s got to just be from adrenaline, right? Or could it be the snakes? Babe’s never seen a goddamn snake before, he lives in South fuckin’ Philly, he doesn’t know these things — “We got antivenom back at base, but ain’t had to use it before. Some of these fellas can be nasty customers.”

“No kidding.” Babe is still eyeing Gene’s bite like it’s about to bite him. Venom… if the bite’s poisoned, then why does it look so simple? Like any old cut his little sister could get from playing with Ma’s sewing needles, or what Babe’s been dumb enough to do to himself on old nails. Just… punctures. Not any weird colors, not leaking anything... except they were made with teeth, from a goddamn serpent, and that’s all the difference.

Not to mention, if that wound’s poisoned, doesn’t that mean...

Suddenly, the word venom clicks in his head, like he’s just translated it from a different language. People get sick from snake bites; they even die from them. Something in Babe’s stomach bottoms out, a new wave of panic gripping him. They’ve gotta get Gene back to town, and to that antivenom. Now.

“Alright, Gene. Up and at ‘em!” In the time Babe’s spent processing this, Gene sat down hard on the ground… which seems like the worst place to be for a fella who's already been a snake’s chew toy once today. Babe leans forward, holding out a hand, but Gene just blinks at it.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, like Babe’s just told a joke he doesn’t get. “Okay.”

“Okay, get up! Not — Gene, we’ve been over this already, for chrissakes —“ Babe seizes hold of his hand for him, and hauls him up in one fell swoop. It helps that Gene doesn’t weigh all that much — but even this weight is a lot, when his legs buckle as soon as he’s on his feet. Yelping, Babe scrambles to steady him, an arm locking around his ribcage. “What the hell, Gene?”

“Sorry, sorry…” Gene forces himself back upright, but has to brace too much of his weight against Babe for either of them to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. “Leg, uhh, feels weird. Getting all numb.”

“How fast does the venom spread?”

“Well, it depends on the snake, don’t it? Should have asked him how quick he wanted to kill me.” And, okay, Babe deserves the annoyed clip in his voice, but Gene talking about death so casually does nothing for his swelling panic. “Seems to work pretty fast. I’ve never seen this before, Heffron, so I don’t know.”

They don’t have any time to stand around bickering about this. Babe leads Gene forward, one step after another. This time, Gene manages to stay upright; even though he’s obviously favoring one leg over another, he matches Babe’s pace. “We ain’t got snakes back in Philly, so this is all new to me,” Babe declares, just to say something in his own defense. “Haven’t you got snakes down in Louisiana?”

“Sure. But in Bayou Chene, our reptiles’ve got a lot more teeth. Not to mention legs.” At Babe’s look of aghast horror, Gene just huffs. “You’ll figure it out, Heffron.”

“Don’t tell me the little fuckers can grow legs. Gene? You’re messing with me, right? He can’t run after us, can it? Jesus, Mary and—“

Gene stumbles again, so suddenly that Babe barely has the chance to catch him. One second he’s walking, and the next — 

“C’mon, Gene,” Babe huffs, propping the man back upright. “I know it hurts, but we aren’t too far. You gotta make it back.”

“I’m trying,” Gene snaps, with a ferocity that takes Babe aback. He’s never heard that growl in the old Doc’s voice, or seen such wire-taut frustration in his eyes. Gene’s hands clench into fists, one gripping his knee and the other steadied against Babe’s chest. It takes a moment before he’s willing to put weight on it again. The skin around the cut is already bright red and inflamed; as Babe watches, he swears he can see it swell up a bit more, like a goddamn balloon. It’s hell to look at, so he can’t imagine what Gene’s got to be feeling.

As soon as Gene tests his weight, the leg buckles. He falls to one knee, a sharp curse escaping him; a second later, in his struggle to scramble back up, he just manages to fall sideways and land on his ass.

Babe is left feeling profoundly helpless — eager to help, but certain of wounding Gene’s pride if he tries. “What — what’s wrong with it?” he asks instead, sounding too much like a frightened kid.

Gene’s hand hovers over the swollen ankle... but at the first touch he draws away with a hiss. Instead, he fondles up his calf, brows knit together and face paler than usual. “It…” he says, and pauses for a long moment. When he draws in a breath, it trembles. “It’s really burning. Burning bad, but it’s not… Heffron, I don’t know. Don’t think I can walk on it.”

“Why not?” Babe demands, desperate.

“Because it’s gone numb.” When Gene looks up, his eyes are black and piercing; they cut straight through Babe’s soul. “I can’t feel my leg, Babe. All the way up to the knee, and it’s moving fast.”

“What the hell’s it doing? Paralyzing you?”

He means it as a joke. Gene doesn’t laugh.

“Shit.” Babe presses a hand to his face, then runs it through his hair with earnest. “Shit, shit, shit. Will that kill you? It sounds like it can kill you.”

“Depends on how quick it gets to my lungs.” The amazing thing is how calm Gene sounds, in spite of it all. No one should sound that fucking calm while a deadly toxin’s blazing through their system. If anyone could, it’s Gene Roe — but all the panic he doesn’t have, Babe’s got in spades. For a moment, it’s paralyzing.

The thought clicks in his head too late; he goes still, and barks out a harsh, sudden laugh. Panic is paralyzing him while Gene’s literally being paralyzed.

Goddammit, Heffron, get your shit together.

“Okay,” he says — and finally, finally, he’s not two inches away from tumbling over the edge. Maybe he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he can at least sound like it. “You really think you can’t walk on it, huh?” When Gene shakes his head, eyes grin, Babe’s mouth goes tight. “Okay! We got two options here, Gene. We could sit and wait for your goddamn lungs to freeze up, or —“ Babe swallows hard, like forcing an entire egg down his throat, and straightens his shoulders. “Or, I gotta carry you the rest of the way.”

It’s not ideal. They both know it. Gene isn't that light, Babe isn’t that strong, and a fella has a certain amount of dignity even when he might be dying. The thing is — they don’t have any other options. Sitting and waiting is out of the question, so far out of the question that it ain’t a question at all. If they don’t move, Gene will just get worse... and no way in hell is Babe letting that happen.

Their eyes lock, and a ripple of unspoken communication passes between them. Something in Gene’s expression steels itself, while Babe forces a deep breath.

“Alright,” Gene says. “Let’s go.”

Babe hits the ground on one knee, and Gene’s arms wrap around his neck a second later. Credit where credit’s due, he’s not taking any chances; no way will Babe be able to drop him when Gene’s got a grip like a clingy toddler, locking around his neck like he’s half-set on strangling him. Babe chokes involuntarily, and Gene quickly eases up; a muttered “sorry” rumbles in his ear as the grip adjusts. 

When Gene finally feels steady, Babe hauls himself to his feet, dragging the other man up with him. Now, Gene’s full weight is really braced against him, and it hurts. Hastily, Babe scrambles to get a more solid grip, hunching forward to ease him up. After a moment, he feels Gene leave the ground, most of that weight settling on his shoulders and back.

“Jesus, Doc,” he mutters. “You been storin’ food through the winter? Bastogne’s over now, buddy, you can share the wealth!”

Gene cuffs him lightly on the side of the head. In spite of the situation, Babe laughs.

After that, it’s just… putting one foot in front of the other. A harder task than you’d think, because of Babe thought dragging him alone was tough, carrying a guy is even worse. Is this how Luz feels all the time, with his massive radio? Better yet, where’s Bull Randleman when you need him? If Babe was meant to haul fellas around like potato sacks, he wouldn’t have played the goddamn trumpet in high school. Despite the weight, he steels himself and pushes forward. Going is slower than he’d like, but at least they’re moving. Base isn’t that far away, and they’re still going faster than they would if Gene were walking on his own.

Gradually, Babe’s breathing grows more labored. His body working overtime to carry twice its weight, struggling to keep up. It takes him too long to realize he isn’t the only one. Gene’s body is working harder too; his breaths are gradually turning into pants, arms tightening around Babe’s shoulders as his legs slowly grow slack. Through their layers of clothing, Babe can feel Gene’s heartbeat against his back. It’s too damn fast.

“How you holdin’ in there, Gene?” he asks, after his grip on the other man’s ass nearly slips. Not much longer now — it can’t be long, can it?

“I’m — uhh —“ Gene takes too long to answer, and that scares Babe the most. His voice is hoarse, too low to be called anything but a murmur. “Been better.”

“Yeah, I bet.” And that tells Babe exactly nothing. “What are you feeling?”

“Uh,” says Gene.

“Okay, better question, what aren’t you feeling?”

“Well — my legs are still there, right?”

Jesus Christ. “Yeah, they’re still there.”

“All I need to know.”

Forcing the worry out of his mind, Babe charges forward. At last, the path is more road than wilderness, somewhere familiar. More sure of himself now, Babe leads the way, silently praying for a Jeep to pass. Anything that can get them there quicker will be a godsend; as it is, they’re fifteen minutes out from any help, and he’s really not sure Gene can last that long.

The burden on his back only grows heavier as Gene becomes more and more dead weight. He murmurs something about his fingers, and suddenly his hands have grown slack; Babe just tightens his grip, knowing that if Gene can no longer hang on, the situation’s going to get a whole lot harder. What other options does he have? Fireman’s hold? Bridal carry? Hell, he could try it —

“Babe,” Gene mutters, pressing the word into the side of his neck as his head lolls against Babe’s shoulder. “We almost there?”

“Yeah, buddy. Almost. Stay with me, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Gene agrees, and doesn’t try to speak again. Maybe he doesn’t have the energy; maybe he just can’t get the words together. It’s hard to tell which idea scares Babe the most.

He’s just readjusting his grip on Gene’s limp lower body when a distinctive rattle echoes from further down the path. Babe goes tense. A second later, the truck rounds the corner, in all its rattling glory. With a whoop, Babe charges straight for it, practically bouncing in the middle of the road.

“Hold it! Hey, stop the damn car!”

The driver is a stranger, a supply man who doesn’t look a bit happy about being halted on his route. “What’s goin’ on here?” he demands, looking Babe and his unusual cargo up and down.

Babe doesn’t even bother replying. Before the guy can protest, he slings Gene up into the truckbed and scrambles in after him, slamming on the hood for good measure. “Sorry, buddy, but you gotta turn around. Get us to the hospital now!”

“Hospital? What for?”

“For crissakes, I’ll tell ya as we drive, just go! It’s an emergency!”

The engine rumbles to life again. Babe hunches over Gene, eager to protect him from the dust and smog. Underneath him, Gene is tense and unmoving; each breath rattles in Babe’s ears, louder than the truck as it begins to gutter down the road. After a moment, it’s safe enough to pull back. Babe forces himself up on aching arms to regard Gene’s face, and nearly chokes on his own heart.

Gene’s face is colorless. Completely drained, a stark milky-grey like laundry water after Ma’s gotten through with it. His mouth hangs half-open, lips shuddering as he clings to every earnest breath. Black eyes, darker than ever in his ghostly face, peer blankly up at the sky. Desperate to rouse him, Babe presses a hand against his face, and finds that his skin is burning. 

“Shit, shit — Gene! Stay with me, buddy!”

It takes a minute for the life to stir back in his eyes. “Where’m I gonna go?” Gene finally demands, sounding affronted. God help them both, Babe can’t help barking out a hoarse laugh.

“Nowhere. Goddamn nowhere, cause I’m not gonna let you. We’re almost there, okay?” Babe presses down on his shoulders, like he can squeeze some feeling back into Gene’s rapidly-numbing body; no doubt the terror on his own face is obvious, but Gene’s so out of it that there’s a chance he can’t tell. That’s what Babe clings to, though the agonizing, rattling ride — he’s gotta be strong for Gene’s sake. He draws Gene close to his chest, gripping him tight, feet braced against the side of the truck to support them both. Each breath is precious; he charts the rhythm of Gene’s breathing, trying to steady it with his own. At some point, Gene tried to raise an arm, only for it to flop back down… but when Babe asks him if he’s getting any worse, he just shakes his head. Probably a lie, but Babe’ll take it.

“Gonna be alright, Gene,” he mutters as the town square finally rattles into view ahead. “Look. We’re here. Can you see that we’re here?”

“Can’t lift my head,” is all Gene mutters. 

Babe lifts it for him. Something in Gene’s cloudy expression clears at the sight of familiar surroundings — and the tiny group of Easy men, clustered on the street corner, smoking and smirking at each other. Babe doesn’t pause to explain anything, even to their poor driver. As soon as the truck jutters to a stop, he springs out, waving his friends over. “Thank god — Hashey, find a medic, will ya? Or a surgeon, get a goddamn surgeon, tell him there’s a snake bite — the two of you, come on, help me lift him. Doc’s in bad shape.”

This is a familiar song and dance by now. They’ve done this before, after sneak attacks and harebrained patrols, scrambling into action to aid a wounded friend. Only thing different now is that the war’s over, and it’s Doc on the table. Luckily, no one needs to be told twice. Hashey sprints off like the devil’s on his heels, while Ramirez and Alley quickly join Babe’s cause; together, they’re able to slide Gene’s body towards the edge of the truck, laying him out flat. From there, no one’s really certain what to do. Babe stands near Gene’s head, practically cradling him, while the other men exchange bewildered, rattled glances.

“A snake, Babe?” Alley demands.

“A fucking snake,” Babe confirms.

Everything’s a blur from there. Hashey returns, a surgeon on his heels; he’s got a needle the size of Babe’s whole arm, and that’s the point things get real hazy. Babe has to shut his eyes past a wave of dizziness, but he hears Gene gasp in pain, the surgeon mutter something, and the shuffle of men moving a limp body. By the time Gene’s steady on a cot, being hauled into the building, his eyes are shut, head killing back.

And Babe’s left… standing. Useless, alone, and wondering if he was any help at all.

“Jesus Christ, Babe,” Alley hisses, dragging a hand through his hair. Hashey whistles, staring at the ground. Ramirez looks like he’s just chugged three week old stew.

Babe slumps back against the bed of the truck, exhausted. His heart stutters in his chest; his throat feels tight. After a minute, he slumps forward like his strings have been cut, hands coming up to cradle his head.

“Hey, everything alright?” a voice from the front of the truck calls. After a minute, the driver leans his head out, just enough to look at Babe and his friends. “Private, is your friend going to be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Babe mutters — and then, for the guy’s benefit, “Can’t say yet. They’ve gotta… work on him, or some shit.”

“You did a hell of a job getting him here,” is all the driver says — and, when Babe looks back in surprise, just shrugs. “Like a man possessed. I couldn’t have kept driving if I wanted to. Never seen anybody look like that.”

Babe huffs a sigh. It rattles in his chest, hurting as it comes out, but he manages to summon a smile. “Th- thanks, pal.” Giving the truck an affectionate pat, he pushes himself off, and offers the driver a wave.

The driver waves back. With a guttural roar, the engine starts back up again; after a minute, the truck and it’s cargo rattle off down the street, out of sight.

Babe tucks his hands in his pants and sighs. His head turns up to the sky, as if drawn there.

“Okay,” he says to his friends. “Who’s got some damn cigarettes?”

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

“You saved my life.”

He can’t bring himself to meet Gene’s eyes. Babe stares at the blanket instead — the crisp, clean, certified hospital blanket, the kind you’d only find in a town that hasn’t been bombed to hell. Jesus, what they wouldn’t have killed for a set-up like this in Bastogne; a roof over their heads, a warm bed, blankets, even pillows. Fluffy ones, stuffed with actual feathers.

“Who knew all you gotta do to live it up ‘round here is almost die?” Babe quipped when he walked in — a stupid crack, but it brought a tiny smile to Gene’s washed out face, so damn him if it wasn’t a victory.

Now, though… he can’t quite do it. Even though Gene’s okay — and there’s no question of that anymore, now that the anti-venom’s done its work and the fever’s cleared up — it’s all too fresh, too raw to dwell on. Babe’s gotten good at shoving the awful things aside, smothering them under heaps of snow until he can only feel the weight of them, not the sting. Seeing Gene like that… god, it hurt, Hurt he hadn’t felt since Julian, since Jackson, since watching friends choke and die while being able to do nothing for them. That helplessness has become familiar as an aching scar; Babe knows he’ll never forget it, for as long as he lives, but feeling it with this man in his arms was something else.

“You scared the hell out of me, Gene,” he finally manages, still staring at the blanket. “Wasn’t your fault, but… Christ. I never wanna see that again. Never wanna feel that damn scared. Never wanna feel like… like I might lose you too.” Finally, he drags his gaze up, to meet Gene’s impossibly dark eyes. “Please don’t do that again.”

Gene stares at him for a long moment, unmoving. It’s like he’s paralyzed all over again; Babe can barely stand it.

Finally, a flash of movement draws Babe’s gaze down again. There, inching across the blanket — Gene’s hand, fingers flexing, reaching towards home

“Hey, you’re not supposed to try and move ‘til that stuff’s out of you completely —“

“I’m alright.” Gene’s voice is soft, like something fragile. When his hand finds Babe’s, though, he’s strong; he grips Babe like a promise, the sort neither of them are bold enough to break. They’re both alive, both here, and neither one is going anywhere. That’s enough for now.

“Thank you, Babe,” Gene murmurs, and Babe’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Yeah…  any time, Doc.”

[antoine-roquentin]

i’ve noticed that my shorthand critique of the “south park caused anti-semitism” theory of media has been getting some attention, and it’s funny cause it dovetails with another round of “the youtube algorithm is responsible for turning everybody into nazis” rhetoric as well, sparked by a recent new york times article. this sort of navelgazing is pretty popular because it works nicely with beliefs that both elites and liberals in general have, namely, that public opinion needs to be managed by an enlightened few, that some people are too stupid to participate in civic life and that’s why right wing populists get elected, and that if people are educated correctly, they will simply accept that liberalism is the best model for society. in short, it’s behaviorism, namely, the hypodermic needle model of media.

the liberal elite in interwar america believed themselves to be creating a better society through management of public opinion. figures like walter lippman were committed to benevolent elite rule through the manipulation of opinion, the “manufacturing of consent”. many of them came out of the milieu of manipulating popular opinion through propaganda work in the first world war, successfully convincing americans to join and support the british side in that war. edward bernays, for instance, worked for the committee on public information, the “largest propaganda machine the world had ever seen“, before becoming the intellectual forebear of the public relations industry in america. he and other similar figures, like lippman, carl byoir, and charles merriam (who combined behaviouralism with political science), were the leading lights of the “Progressive” movement of the time. they relied on the notion that media was passively consumed by people, who simply accepted the claims made without hesitation and then acted accordingly. the psychological theories behind this found form as a body of work known as behavioralism. human beings had a set of limited or “latent” responses to stimuli. by providing the correct stimuli, human beings could be made to behave accordingly. one day, society would be governed by the truly intelligent who would suss out the correct stimuli through trial and error and then apply them to the masses, a society of pavlov’s dogs. this top-down model not coincidentally empowered liberal elites to do what they will without any input from the masses.

this was termed the “hypodermic needle” or “magic bullet” model of media. both of these are medical terms, the latter referring to a drug that treats only the disease without any side effects, and that’s quite telling. american progressives have traditionally exalted medicine as a neutral, rational way to develop a better society. many were advocates of eugenics as a form of medicine, “cleaning” the human race of its “unfit” members. recently, there’s been a strong resurgence of interest in eugenics, behavioralism, and the use of medical terminology to describe media (viral video, using the metaphor of contagion).

proponents of the model in the 1930s referred to the success of the nazis in their use of mass media (ironically, using the same propaganda techniques they’d developed. joseph goebbels was known to be a reader of bernays’ books) as well as the payne fund studies, a series of works done on the responses of children to movies with poor methodology and funded by oil magnates hoping to drive moral panics (the hays code was strongly influenced by them), and the panicked reaction to the 1938 orson welles radio production of war of the worlds in support. of course, all three of these shared very specific material conditions of the people involved that drove them to react in the manner they did apart from the media involved in persuasion. for the decade after the first world war, while germany muddled along without growth but also without significant collapse, the nazis failed to attract more than a few percentage points of electoral support, despite consistently using similar tactics. it was only after the economic collapse of germany, when the economy had shrunk by about a quarter, that the nazis gained traction. even then, this was by using the failures of a liberal constitution to turn their electoral base, only one third of voters who were largely based in rural areas and included almost nobody in the major cities, into a workable governing coalition, particularly by playing on the fact that german liberals feared communism much more than nazism. likewise, the panic over war of the worlds was largely a myth created by newspapers which feared they were losing their audience to a new, more dynamic form of media and wanted to stoke a moral panic (see a parallel with the nyt story?). those who were convinced that an invasion was occurring, according to a study done afterwards (in part by theodor adorno), for the most part had only heard a bit and were concerned about a german invasion, given the heightened geopolitical tensions at the time, or were from the town of concrete, washington, which suffered a blackout midway through the performance.

you can see the same sort of threads in the nyt story, while the important parts go ignored by twitterati eager to engage on the most superficial level. “young men discover far-right videos by accident“ thanks to “YouTube and its recommendation algorithm“, “the most frequent cause of members’ “red-pilling”“ according to a study done by the NED(ie western intelligence)-funded bellingcat, after which they fall “ down the alt-right rabbit hole” as passive subjects reacting to stimuli. clearly, these videos spread like a contagion, and it’s our job to ban them in favour of much more legitimate content that supports major western foreign policy objectives. oh wait, hold up, mr cain was a “college dropout struggling to find his place in the world“, at a time of wage stagnation and a tough job market for newer entries that’s especially pronounced as you go further down the education ladder? he “grew up in postindustrial Appalachia”, an area destroyed by rapacious neoliberalism that has increasingly seen its industries move offshore in search of lower wages, its most dynamic members leave for major cities due to a lack of jobs, and those that remain become increasingly socially isolated, prompting them to either resort to social media or kill themselves through drugs and guns in what famed economist angus deaton calls “deaths of despair” (not to mention the limiting of public spaces to those who can pay, another aspect of neoliberalism, which particularly drives teens like mr cain into "online games with his friends”)? in a world where capitalism justifies itself by telling those it fails over and over that it’s their own fault, that they need to improve themselves and that there is no such thing as structural problems because, in the words of margaret thatcher, “there is no such thing [as society]! only individual men and women”, mr cain was drawn to propaganda masquerading as a self-help grift with an emphasis on supposedly knowing more than the brainwashed masses (”To Mr. Cain, all of this felt like forbidden knowledge“)?

most of all though is the fact that most of the people cain watched are either funded directly or take most of their talking points from a network of right wing intellectuals cultivated by major dark money backers for decades. david rubin takes money from dennis prager, who in turn is funded by fracking billionaires and evangelical christians the wilks brothers, and the bradley foundation, who have funded literally every major right wing cause of note. lauren southern is only famous because she worked for rebel media, funded by much of the oil industry including the kochs as well as the bradley foundation. paul joseph watson is associated with ukip and its funder arron banks. gad saad is funded by molson coors, whose corporate heads not only once praised hitler but founded the most famous republican think tank in the country, the heritage foundation. two of the major members of the “intellectual dark web”, charles murray and christina hoff sommers, work directly for the heritage foundation. and other youtube luminaries of note, like alex jones, thunderf00t, and stefan molyneux, make their money solely by doing interviews with these people and by citing material produced from these think tanks. in a world where inequality is increasingly dividing the rich and the working class, the former spend more and more on maintaining the division, while the latter are driven into a state of fear in which absurd theories about the collapse of western civilization and their replacement with latin american and muslim people seems much more reasonable. There’s also the social isolation that makes youtube celebs and discord chat buddies seem less like distant weirdos and more like the only friends one has. 

the solution, of course, is to modify youtube’s algorithm. just a bit of top-down tweaking to educate the masses on their correct course. surely, nobody would be stupid enough to think that the material conditions created by the neoliberal elite in the past few decades has driven a complete collapse in trust in american society, to the point where only a third of americans "trust their government “to do what is right”“, compared to over 80% of chinese people. surely this breakdown in trust is due to youtube and not the complete economic decimation of the country by its elites, to the point where many rural counties have not even recovered the jobs they lost a decade ago. a redistribution of wealth should not even be on the table, because material conditions play no part in how people react to media. just accept your daily helping of bullshit from the bourgeoisie and never question them when they say certain people need to be censored, because the powers you let them have will never be abused or turned against you in any way. and hey, don’t listen to any critiques of behaviorism, because it’s not like anarchists blew that shit out of the water in the 1950s.

[wtfzodiacsigns]

What loving the zodiac signs is going to feel like:

♈️ARIES: Wild, but far from wrong. Destructive but far from hurtful. Unique but far from dangerous. Like living in the flames of a burning fire that dances between the thick sheets of darkness, with a force so invincible and so powerful. So divine you’ll feel like kissing God himself when you’re actually healing the Devil.

♉️TAURUS: Luxury exists only where there is hard-work and a colosal amount of passion driven by the madness that love is. And that madness, that drop of pure craziness it’s what keeps people glued to reality. Down to earth. Protected. Fought for. Wanted. You’ll literally feel the luxury behind these harmonious gifts and the effect of a powerful yet almost weithtless feeling of scented, amorous touch of kindness.

♊️GEMINI: A tailor is someone whose job is to repair, make or adjust clothes. But feeling the pinch of a needle going right through your veins, with an electricity so shocking, stitching all the holes in your soul with such a gentle touch, it’s not a tailor’s job anymore but a lovers. And stitich after stitch, you’ll finally realize why lovers are said to become one, in the end. Melted into a harmony so bright and melodious. Hopeful. Reborn. Happy. And most importantly, understood.

♋️CANCER: Like those golden mornings, scented by a sweet, innocent parfume, with birds chiriping in your ears. Like the touch of a light, silk fabric on your naked warm skin. Protected by the Gods. Adored by the angels. Carried by the soft hands of the refreshing wind and drunken by the thick liquid of happiness. Cared of.

♌️LEO: You know those afternoons you used to spend in the park with your friends,laughing and climbing on trees. Having a good time. Feeling youthful and totally unstoppable. This is a feeling only a special, curious and adventurous person can provide for somebody. And being able to be that somebody who can taste the sweet, savory fruit of childhood over and over again is truly a blessing.

♍️VIRGO: Empowered by an invincible force of intelligence is somekind of power anyone is looking for. And being able to feel it while laying down next to a warm body who provides comfort and security is not even called luck but more of a gift the Universe decided to prize you with. You’ll feel glorious. Like someone who won the trophy they waited for their entire lives. Thrilled by the soft happiness you found through the glasses of normality.

♎️LIBRA: Captive in the arms of absolute freedom is not captivity at all. You’ll feel harmony, beauty and pure rivers of love grow from within the core of your heart and soul, blooming shy grins on your lips while affection colors the pupils of your never ending passion for life. Fruitful. Perfect. Bathed into small, cold drops of rain, washing away all your sorrows.

♏️SCORPIO: Like in your everyday life, you’ll feel sparks of intimidation, anxiety or anger. But sparks fly, and flying they’ll slowly transform into glowing flames of passion. A passion so honest and so aggresive it will drive you insane. And losing sanity is, sometimes, a blessing. A harsh detachment from reality that is going to lead your way into a candle-lit cave where passion and errotic love collide, creating a sphere of perfection that can barely be described by words.

♐️SAGITTARIUS: A compliment can make someone blush, a joke can make someone laugh so hard their face might turn red and an adventure might color the entire universe and life conception of an individual in just a matter of a few minutes. With them, you’ll feel inspired, entertained and like an outcast living with your other half, far away in space while laughing at everyone and their pathetic, boring fates. You’ll feel special, somehow like that one perfect story-teller you always wanted to become when you would be fat and old.

♑️CAPRICORN: Being a black sheep is not always something bad and in this case, it is far from being a flaw. Standing out from the crowd while fitting into the patterns of such a hilariuos human being is absolutely extraordinary. You’ll feel like a lucky charm, carried around like something made by God’s hands. Precious. Watched by a knight in shining armor who is willing to sacrifice their perfect minds and blinding futures for a feeling as beautiful as this.

♒️AQUARIUS: Alice had to fall to get to Wonderland, but once she did so, she found herself in a world where everything and anything was possible. And falling IN LOVE with the out-of-the-ordinary, rebellious and revolutionary Aquarius won’t be far from what Alice experienced in Wonderland. You’ll truly feel like you’re broken from whatever the term of “ordinary” even means. Bathed in sweet dreams from head to toe with two arms as soft as the wings of a butterfly wrapped around your torso, drawing swirls of hope on your body and sticking amused grins on your lips. You’ll feel irreplaceable.

♓️PISCES: There’s nothing like a specific word to describe the euphoric perfection you’ll feel while loving this specific individual as it will be completely different from what you initially expected. But if I should compare it to something I would probably choose the expression “on cloud nine”. You’ll feel a unique energy, a calming breeze of fresh air in your life, the smell of new begginings and a precious state of happiness while drowning into the sweet nothings they whisper into your ear while your eyes are closed, dreaming of another world, another hope but never another love because there’s truly nothing more beautiful that the love they provide. Calming. Soft. Sweet. Truly incredible.

~~~

Source: astrologers-cloud-club

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Return To Me

Ch. 6: Sanity Vampire, Quirkless, Victorian / Medieval Era AU

Based off of THIS AU by @vines-of-an-ivy / @aizawasbedtimestories

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: Explicit | Violence / Blood / Mentions of suicide and self harm / Depression / Mental Illness / Sex and intimacy

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Side Pairings: Seijirou Eguchi (OC) x Dokuji Kobayashi (OC), Eijirou Kirishima x Nene Date (OC)

Chapter Rating: Mature | Make out, Mild Foreplay

Be sure to follow the READ MORE

Pale blue eyes were locked on him, wide with shock and welling with tears. Sitting up, Koge had one of Bakugou’s old blazers in her lap, sewing up a hole he had made. A single candle rested on the bedside table, creating just enough light for her to see. Sewing and tailoring clothes had always been one of her skills, so the fact that she was doing it wasn’t what shocked him. The fact that she was up literally in the middle of the night fixing one of his blazers was. In fact, it was so bizarre that he couldn’t help but give a short chortle, smile spreading across his lips. “Utsuro… You do realize that one is so old it doesn’t fit me anymore, right?” 

Koge blinked at the sound of his voice, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “O-oh… I…” She looked down at the dark red fabric, running her hand along it to smooth it out a bit across her lap. “I just… I remembered that you had torn it, and… I figured I could fix it and perhaps make it a bit bigger in the arms for you. Then it would… It would fit.” Hands trembling, she gripped onto the fabric tightly, keeping her head down. “You’re… You’re a hallucination.” 

Bakugou frowned, reaching up to remove his hood. “So what if I am. I’m here, aren’t I?” He took a few steps closer to the bed, gripping onto the wooden footboard, which creaked under his weight as he leaned on it. Koge gave a small jump at the sound, quickly looking back up at her lover in surprise. “I suppose…” Sticking her needle into a pin cushion, Koge folded up the blazer and placed it down beside her carefully. “Katsuki… Seeing you here just confirms that I’m crazy. Losing you has made me completely lose my mind. Everyone thinks that, so it must be true.” 

“Do you think you’re crazy?” Bakugou questioned, hating to see her so down. Though, his keen eyes caught onto something that he hadn’t noticed before, something he had no idea about. The scars that adorned her wrists told him that she had tried to end her own life sometime after his disappearance, and the guilt that immediately crushed him filled him with a sense to flee. His stupid actions had hurt her more than any physical pain he had gone through, all because he had decided to act like a child. How stupid and selfish he had been made him sick, and he wanted nothing more than to take all her suffering away. 

With a small shake of her head, Koge pushed the blankets off of her legs, her pale skin glowing against the flickering candle flame. “I know I’m not crazy. I knew all this time that you were still alive, and I know that I kissed you the other day. The bruises on my arms prove it.” Although she brought a hand up to touch the yellowing bruise on her left arm, Bakugou wasn’t looking at it. All his attention was on the rest of her body, how perfect she looked in that silk shift that clung to her curves. It hung off one shoulder, tempting him with an enticing view of her neck. He hated that all he could think about was sinking his teeth into her when he should be holding and comforting her. 

“You’re not crazy. And I’m not a hallucination. I’m really here.” He held a hand out towards her. “I… didn’t mean to bruise you like that. I’m still working on… controlling my strength, even when I’m not spooked.” Koge glanced from his hand up to his face, feeling a panic beginning to bubble in her stomach. She wanted to take his hand, but then what? He had claimed that he couldn’t come back to her, so what was all this?

“Katsuki… Why are you here?” 

Bakugou’s expression turned a bit stern, though he only motioned with his hand for her to come to him. ”I… can’t stay away. Come to me.” Koge felt happiness beginning to swell within her heart, a hint of a smile forcing its way through. Although she was still a bit cautious, she shifted her body down the bed towards him, not shy about her shift sliding further up her legs. The closer she got to him, the more his scent filled her senses. He smelled so good, like warm caramel, and it didn’t help that he looked absolutely gorgeous in the candlelight. It took every inch of her self control to not leap onto him, though her focus was shattered has he suddenly let out a hiss, yanking his hand back and stepping away from the bed. 

Without really noticing, Koge had reached out to take his hand. The negative reaction from her touch startled her so badly that she quickly backed up, clutching her hand closer to her chest. “O-Oh no, Katsuki, I--” 

“It’s not you.” Bakugou hissed between his teeth, glaring down at the red and irritated skin on his index finger. “It’s your ring.” 

“My ring?” Koge looked down at the piece of jewelry that adorned her finger, suddenly feeling a rush of fear at the thought that she would have to remove it to be able to touch him. “Why my ring?” Bakugou gave a small shake of his hand as the pain faded, returning to his spot at the end of the bed. “It’s silver. I… Can’t touch silver. Can you take it off just while I’m here?” 

“I… Okay.” With a deep breath to calm herself, she carefully pried the ring from her finger, feeling instantly vulnerable without it. Still, her wanting to touch him was stronger than her need to keep it on, so she carefully placed it down onto the bedside table next to the flickering candle. The soft clink it made against the wood made her stomach lurch a bit, having not seen the ring anywhere but her finger since he first proposed to her. It was the only thing she had left that truly tied her to him, and now, she had to get rid of it to be with him. If this was all truly in her mind, then losing it during whatever psychotic break this could be would ruin her. But if it was real, if he was truly standing at the end of the bed they once shared, then that meant that she would have him back. 

Tenderly touching the now vacant spot on her finger, Koge looked back towards her lover, who was waiting silently for her to make a decision. She could see the frustration in his furrowed brow, the longing in his crimson gaze perfectly matching her own. Without another thought, Koge moved down the bed towards him, taking his hand as he reached it out towards her. It was as if a spark rushed through them, short circuiting any rational thought or reluctantancy. Before either of them could even stop or think, Koge had her arms around Bakugou’s neck, kissing him passionately. 

But, as she kissed him, she realized nothing was how it had been. It was all so much more intense, from both sides. He tasted like heaven and smelled so delicious that she found herself hopelessly drawn to him, wanting to kiss and touch every inch of him. The lust that Koge felt was nothing she had ever experienced before, even from back when their relationship first began. Even the way he touched her, holding her body tightly against his with his hands eagerly exploring her back, was different. Sure, it was something that Koge had expected, for them to want each other so badly that the entire interaction would be nothing but crazed sex. But this was different. 

It was as if everything about him made her want him. It felt… dangerous, like she was a fish attracted to a shiny lure, only to meet her death at the end of a hook and a skillet over fire. She thought it was odd that she would compare herself to a meal, like he was going to eat her. It almost felt that way, like all his passion was driven from hunger. 

And, if Bakugou were honest with himself, it was. By now, he had grown used to the typical routine of feeding, attracting women to him with just a glance, whisking them away with false promises, only to provide them with a very unpleasant night. Typically, it was common for those of his kind to enjoy a bit of fun before they fed, but that was something that Bakugou had refused to do, no matter how enticing the thought. Just because he had vanished from the world of the living didn’t mean that his soul no longer belonged to Koge. It had and always would. 

Thus, his raging hunger and sexual desire were fighting with each other. On one hand, he wanted to make love to her, to feel her and shower her in the affection they had both been robbed of. But, on the other hand, he wanted to rip into her flesh like a crazed animal, to fuck her while draining her of life. He couldn’t believe how strong his negative desires were, even after a hefty feeding the night before. It made him feel disgusting, for thinking such a thing of the woman that he loved. He could only hope that his love for her would be enough to tame him. 

Koge released a soft gasp at the feeling of his hands gripping onto her backside, catching his gaze as the kiss paused. Having been lost in the heat, she hadn’t even noticed that her shift had been pulled up, nor did she remember bringing her hands around to fiddle with the buttons of his cloak. With the snap of the last one coming free, they both allowed the heavy cloth to fall free from his shoulders to become a lifeless lump on the floor. “Why do you wear that, Katsuki? To hide your new haircut?” Koge teased playfully, her fingers moving to the buttons of his vest as he kissed her. Once that clothing was also discarded, Bakugou hoisted himself up over the footboard, scooping her small frame up into his arms as he did so. 

“That’s the first thing you comment on, Utsuro? My fucking hair? Of all the dumb shit to notice first--” He lied her down beneath him, pausing for just a split second as he yanked his shirt off over his head. Koge’s shift was quick to follow, leaving her bare and vulnerable. Bakugou had no time to admire her, however, locked in her embrace and entranced by her lips. That didn’t stop his hands from wandering, sliding up her sides to caress her breasts. 

With the release of her first sweet moan, Bakugou felt an intense swell of hungry passion rush through his body, the urge to feed off her becoming only stronger. In an instant, it nearly overwhelmed him, forcing him to sit up and release her. “God fucking damn it, I can’t do it!” Panting heavily from the rush of primal urges, he glared up at the white ceiling, watching the dancing shadows created by the flickering candle flame. He couldn’t even look at her, too scared that the sight of her nude body would break his control. “I’m not strong enough… I don’t trust myself not to hurt you.” 

Laying there in her own bewildered state, Koge timidly covered her chest with her arms, trying to catch her breath. The fact that he couldn’t even look at her was heavy on her battered heart, and guilt was beginning to creep over her. She felt selfish, wanting him so badly that she didn’t even think about how hard it might be for him. There was the tangible weight on her mind that nothing would be as it had, even if he was truly by her side again. She wanted so badly for things to be normal, for him to love and touch her as he always had. It had almost been a reality, teasing her with every touch or kiss. Now, it was cracking, threatening to shatter if she didn’t find a way to pull him back. 

“Let’s… Let's slow down, Katsuki.” Slowly, Koge sat up, taking it upon herself to pull her blanket over her body. Taking a deep, trembling breath of his own, Bakugou finally turned his gaze down to her once he was confident she was covered. The dejected look on her face only made him feel worse, and as he flopped to sit he rested his elbows onto his knees. Hiding his face in his hands, he let out a groan of frustration. 

“I’m fucking worthless, Koge… After everything I’ve put you through, I try to come back and just… Fix it. Somehow. And I can’t even fucking touch you without… Without--” 

“Wanting to feed off me. Right?” Koge caught his gaze as Bakugou lifted his head from his hands. He was surprised that she was so quick to understand, even though he really hadn’t revealed anything to her. It was the conversation she had with Dokuji, he assumed, that had truly tipped her off about what he had become. Now that he was here and she could physically touch him, she no longer doubted what had been told to her. 

Deciding there was no point in hiding any of it, Bakugou gave a nod, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. His expression and body language told Koge that he was ashamed of how he felt, so with a slow and gentle touch, she placed a hand on his knee. “It’s not your fault, Katsuki… You can’t help it. You’ve… done really well, though. You got me naked, at least.” She cracked a smile and a small giggle, lifting Bakugou’s spirits just enough to not feel like a monster. 

“I can’t believe you don’t hate me… After everything.” Bakugou let his hand rest over hers, softly stroking her skin with his thumb. Koge made no further moves, letting him adjust at his own pace, though a swell of emotion brought a burning to her eyes at how cold his touch was. She hadn’t really noticed during the heat of their moment before, but now it was near shocking. There was no heat. No life. 

“I could never hate you,” Koge spoke softly, fighting back her raging emotions. “Never. I’m so happy you’ve come back to me, Katsuki.” She clutched onto the fabric of his pants as her voice hitched. “But I’m also scared… What if you can’t stand to be around me, now? I won’t survive losing you again.” 

“You don’t have to be scared of that… Nothing will keep me away from you now. But I… There are rules I have to keep following. Or she might want to get rid of you…” Bakugou slowly slid his hand up Koge’s arm, stopping at the yellowing bruise that he had left on her. In response to his touch, Koge shifted herself just a bit closer to him, though she kept her body hidden behind the blankets. 

“Why don’t you just tell me everything… From the beginning. So that I can understand, and maybe we can just… work this out.” Koge couldn’t resist nuzzling her face into his palm as he caressed her cheek, her skin flushing at the rough feeling of his thumb wiping away the rogue tears. With a sigh, Bakugou glanced out at the night sky, trying to gauge how much time he had left. Although the thought of being caught out in the sun weighed heavy on his mind, he didn’t want to leave her, nor did he want to give her a watered down version of what happened and what was now his reality. She deserved to know it all. 

And so, he told her. For hours he went on, describing in detail all the things that he could remember. From the first moment of following Izuku Midoriya into the forest to scare him, finding that they were instead forced into a fate that, in his opinion, no one deserved. It took him two months to fully transition, and he was pretty positive that he had been dead for the majority of it. He couldn’t remember how it was done to him or what the entire process entailed, nor could he ever get anyone else to tell him about it. He then spent the next five months locked up, fighting to learn how to control his rage and new found strength before he could be trusted outside. 

Bakugou admitted that, at the time, he had completely forgotten about her. He didn’t remember anything from before, his need to kill and feed clouding his mind entirely. He couldn’t remember how to be human. The one who helped him the most, out of the entire clan, was Seijirou. That ‘kook’, as Bakugou called him, was the only one who could get through to him, and that was only because Bakugou could recognize him. And, upon recognizing him, the memories of his lover, friends and family slowly returned. 

That is what made him calm down enough to be allowed freedom, his wanting to be able to see Koge again. 

“So…” Koge spoke up quietly when there was a moment of silence, softly running her fingers along his arm. During the hours of conversation, the two had moved to lay down, Koge dressed in his shirt while they cuddled beneath the blankets. Keeping things at a relatively low level of intimacy seemed to allow him enough control to be this close to her, and with her head resting on his chest, the only thing she had to complain about was the lack of heartbeat. “Now you’re Lady Kayama’s… clan member? You hunt for her and protect her territory. That’s why you roam the streets at night.” 

“Mhmm…” Bakugou watched his hand as he ran his fingers through her white locks, having been stroking the same area for a good twenty minutes, now. “As long as I am here, I have to listen to her. If I don’t want to be killed or punished…” 

“It’s so odd to hear you say that you have to obey someone. You, my stubborn Katsuki…” A yawn forced its way though her lips, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face further into his chest. “She would be really angry if she found out about this… right?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been watching you and visiting for a few months now… Lighting your fire. I also went to visit the flowers every time you replaced them. I’ve even been taking one, I have them drying out in a book. I remember you showed me that trick once.” Caressing the back of her neck, he kissed the top of her head softly, able to feel how she smiled against his skin and the heat in her cheeks. “Lots of stupid mushy shit, you know…” 

“Because you still love me.” Koge tilted her head up to catch his gaze, worry obvious on her furrowed brow. “Right? Those feelings aren’t… different?” 

“No, Koge. If anything, they’re stronger. Because now I know what it feels like to not have you… And I can’t imagine a life - an eternity - without you.” Bakugou kissed her softly, holding her body closer. “I still want you as my wife… But--” 

“Change me, then.” The lack of hesitation in her proposal made Bakugou pause, staring down at her in shock for a moment before he shook his head. 

“I… Don’t know how it works. They won’t tell me and… Biting obviously doesn’t work, because when I feed, nothing happens. Are you even sure you want to? It’s… painful and you might not make it through.” 

Koge placed her hand on his cheek, stroking his fair skin softly with her thumb. “We can figure out how. But once we do, I want it to happen. I’d rather take the chance then spend my entire life only seeing you at night and growing old without you.” 

“You’ll have to leave everything behind… Nene, my parents… No one can know we’re still alive… or, alive-ish.” 

“You know I’d follow you to the other side of the world, Katsuki. No one would miss me, anyway. Everyone thinks I’m some kind of insane witch, your parents are sick of me, and Nene barely tolerates me…” The reminder of just how outcased she had become brought new tears to her eyes, though she held them back the best she could. “No, I don’t belong here anymore… I belong with you.” 

Bakugou found himself at a loss for words at the moment, contemplating her words. If he were honest with himself, he wanted more than anything for her to be like him, so he could kiss and caress her without any need to restrain himself. He wanted to love her at his fullest, and with this new barrier between them, he knew that he couldn’t, not without risking putting her in danger. 

Sharing another loving kiss, Bakugou answered her with silent affection, which Koge took as an agreement. When their kiss parted, Koge sighed softly in happiness, an emotion that she thought had been forgotten. “I love you so much, Katsuki. I still can’t believe you came back to me… That I get to kiss you again and hear your voice. I never thought I would.” 

“I love you, too, Koge. You should rest, now…” 

“I don’t want to. You’ll be gone when I wake up.” Although she was defiant, she snuggled her body closer to him, resting comfortably. Bakugou went back to stroking her hair softly, giving a heavy sigh. 

“Yes… But just know that I’ll be back every night. Unless I have to eat...”

Koge giggled softly, already beginning to drift off. “That’s a good idea… I don’t want to become dinner….” With that, Koge found herself lost to the dark grip of unconsciousness, dreaming of her lovers smile and his hands against her skin. 

It was a disappointment, however, to wake up alone. The sun shone bright through her window, forcing a groan from her lips as she turned her head into her pillow. Though, as she shifted, she felt something in her hand, hearing it crumple against her grip. Curious, she suffered through the blinding light to look down at it, finding a piece of paper folded up in her palm. Opening it carefully, she first found her engagement ring, followed by words sprawled across the paper. They were more than just a simple message. It was proof that he had truly been there, that everything she had felt and been told wasn’t just a dream. Her lover was a being that could walk this Earth, and in that moment, she made a silent vow to never let him slip from her fingers again. 

Don’t forget this. I’ll be back tonight for my shirt.

K. 

[regdaran]

Revenant~Noir Chapter 1

Revenant~Noir Part 1

(Marinette)

  It had been months, months since the akuma attacked. Months since she saw her best friend and love of her life die to try and save her. She had barely left her house since then. The akuma disappeared as soon as it came. Alya had called everyday, tying to keep her from completely closing in on herself. It hurt, it still hurts, but she was still Ladybug. That, and Alya (With Tikki's  help) had finally convinced her to go out on a patrol. It hadn't taken much, not after she was told about how Nino was nearly put in the hospital by some new threat. Something that shattered his 'Shelter' with a single attack. As much as Marinette still wanted to lay down and sob, an entire month of that had done nothing but put everyone left in danger. So here she was staking out an abandoned  metro station in the middle of the night, in hopes of finding this black clad shadow. This new villain that rushed through alleyways and streets to brutalize random citizens and then vanish as quickly as they appeared. "What do we know about you?" Ladybug asked herself. First, she had to consider how they only ever seemed to strike at night, and all of the attacks were at or near entrances to La Petite Ceinture and the Catacombs. A cold shiver went up Marinettes spine. The last time she had to deal with the catacombs involved a newly awakened caster, and a small army of skeletons. Not pleasant memories. In-fact, she wouldn't have made it out of the tunnels if not for... "Chat..." She whispered under her breath.

There was movement. The shaking of a bush near the station entrance.

Ladybugs head shot up at the sound. While she couldn't hear as well as Rena Rouge, her miraculous still enhanced her hearing a fair bit.

There it was again, movement by a walking path that leads into the stations tunnel.

"Hey, are sure we should be hanging out here tonight?"  said a the young voice of a boy. They entered a space in front of the station. "Dude, chill out. A few people come by here. Its remote enough that the cops can show up quickly, and if we need to we can make an escape in the tunnels."  This was said by an older boy, about 17 maybe 18. Now that she could see the pair, she could definitely rule them out as the suspects to her mystery villain. The kid was in baggy shorts and a baggier hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. The older one had jeans and a tee shirt on, he also had had a headband on and the sound of a chain bouncing against itself. His clothes weren't what drew her attention, the switch knife he kept opening and closing in increasingly complicated ways was the focus of her gaze. "That's not what I meant and you know it! Dude the others all got hit around places like this, dude... Jackie is still in the I.C.U." The boy stopped just outside the entrance to the underground part of the station. "I know, but don't worry about it. Ever since that akuma attack a month ago, tourists have been flooding the city. Lots of cash filled pockets and purses that need cleaning out. Even better, no one has seen Ladybug out an' about since Chat Noir died! It's our time to shine!" The older one said, evading the topic the younger one was trying to bring up.

"Okay." Ladybug said to herself. She understood that she had been gone for awhile, but where muggers and street thieves really capitalizing on it this much.

"Now all we gotta do is wait, and even if Ladybug was done crying over her precious 'Chat Noir'  I doubt she would even come by this part of the city."  The older one said, the emphasis he placed on Chats name made her blood boil. Just as she was about to jump down and relieve some of her frustrations, the younger boy screamed and scrambled toward the older one. "What! What the hell is wrong with you?!"  The younger one just cowered and hid behind the older one, pointing a trembling hand toward the underground entrance he had been at moments before. "Fine! ill go and 'take care' of whatever spooked you so bad."  He started walking toward the entrance and made to go down the steps. Then he left the ambient light behind and went into the darkness.

Ladybug heard him fish around in his pockets the chains on his belt making ample sounds. A flashlight clicked on and light seemed to seep out of the station. He had left the line of sight of both the boy and Ladybug at this point. "I swear to GOD! If this is just another big rat or stray dog, I'm actually going to-"  Another scream ripped through the night. Where as the previous one was filled with fear and panic, this was full of terror and pain. It was a throaty thing that cut off abruptly. Then the light went out.

Ladybug wasted no time in getting down from her vantage point and started running past the now fleeing kid and through the entrance of the station and into the abandoned tunnel. She could hear footsteps echoing through out the tunnel but she couldn't tell where they were coming from started to look around, but it was too damn dark, she brought her yoyo up and activated its light. At the bend of one of the tunnels a shadow left her sight, carrying a limp teenager. Again, she was running. She really wished that who or what ever this thing was had chosen a lair that was more yoyo friendly. As it was, she was having to sprint after a barely visible figure that seemed to out pacing her by simply walking. It was 30 minutes before she realized she was lost in the catacombs. Not the abandoned metro that she entered but the catacombs...  Sconces along regular intervals lit up the cavern walls. Crap. Why didn't she notice the change in location when she was following it? She had gone through what she had assumed was a collapsed tunnel, maybe it was really a breach into the crypts.

She opened up her yoyo, and tried to bring up her map. Which isn't working... great. What about calling Carapace? no signal. How did she not have any signal? Her carrier was magic, literal magic.  She was going to have to talk to Tikki about this later. For now, she had to either find the shadow or find her way out. Both presented challenges, however if this was the same thing that nearly put Nino in the hospital after only a brief fight, she would rather not fight it in an enclosed space. All she could see where rows and rows of bones and remains, it took her an hour  before she found something she remembered. Which was a section of the wall that looked like the remains in it had exploded outward. One of the places that the freshly minted necromancer, from several months ago, had raised  one of his 'Skeletal guards'. The entire team was still stumped on how they reanimated remains got weapons and armor.

"Tell me!"  A familiar yet cold voice commanded. "I don't know! I don't know! Please let me go, I won't tell no body your here. Please!"  The teenager said voice cracking in more than one place. Ladybug became flush with the wall. Where was that coming from? "Tell me who she is. Now."  The first voice demanded of the teenage. There was another crater in the wall, where an undead was summoned. A hallow in the stone work left by the energies the necromancer was wielding. Oh crap... she new exactly where she was. Near the center of the Catacombs, where the necromancer had created a literal hole in the wall. He had used his new workforce to carve out a new section in the catacomb walls. Ladybug had seen it exactly once, when she had been lured into a trap and then subsequently rescued by the rest of the team. She turned her head around the corner and saw 3 things which chilled her to the bone. 3 Things that would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.

A rotting pile of filth, meat, and bones. Which, from the shredded remnants of robes, must have been the necromancer. Why was he dead, from the checks they all did, he had left Paris.

The teenager from earlier, now being held up by his throat, and pressed against the wall. The skin of his neck was pale and the veins were a dark unhealthy color. As though oil was being pumped through those arteries.

And a man in black leather with a long tail like belt trailing behind him, black and green ring prominently on his finger. Mask hugging his pale face. His hair was a dull blonde like filthy sunlight. He was holding up a teenage kid with one hand, while positioning the other hand in a threatening manner over the head of his young victim.

It couldn't be. It was impossible... "Chat?"  Marinette said before she could stop herself. HE TURNED. Quickly, he drop the kid and stared at her. "You."  he said. His tone quiet and hushed. Now that he was no longer lined up in a profile view. She could see his chest. She could see the hole in his upper torso, right where a heart would be. Ladybug fell back onto her rear. What was going on? Had she hit her head? Maybe Volpina was back, and it was an Illusion. Yes! that's right. This was an illusion! She would ju- He screamed. An ear shattering yowl. Then, he started running. He was halfway down the longest hallway in the catacombs before she snapped back to herself and once again ran after him. "Don't follow me!"  He yelled at her, voice cracking apart near the end. "Chat! Come back! Please!"  Marinette called after him. She knew exactly where this tunnel would lead if he just kept running!

A few more minutes and more yelled warnings later. Ladybug was standing in front of the only exit the dead end had. 'Chat Noir' was panicking and trying his best to dig through the stone and bones. "Chat Noir." She said. Trying to be as calm as possible considering the circumstances. Which where that her partner was either an illusion and she was about to fall into a trap, or that he had come back from the dead and started beating random citizens. She was slowly stepping closer towards him. He looked at her wide eyed. The slits of his iris's where like needles in a sea of emeralds. His ears where pressed flat against his head. He wasn't breathing, but he did take a breath now if only to say "STOP!  Stay away from me! For the love of all that is holy or unholy please stay back!"  Ladybug was both confused and concerned by his words. She needed him to explain what the hell was going on. "Adrien I-"  He clutched his head in his hands. "Stop please! Ahh! Don't say that name. Please don't say his name!" Now she was just concerned. All thoughts of her own confusion where replaced by worry for her partners mind. What had dying done to him. besides the obvious. She was close enough to touch him easily now. He was curled up on himself, and shaking. he kept muttering "No please... don't do it. Not her! Anyone but her..."  She reached out to hug him. Then she was blind. In the blink of an eye her had changed from a cowering mess, to a storm of claws and teeth. His empowered hand reached for her throat, but jerked into her shoulder at the last minute. Tthe sound her suit made when it broke was like hearing church glass shatter, and then the pain. She was on the ground, right hand clutching her now broken and nearly mangled left shoulder. She looked up, magical darkness being replaced with tunnel vision, in time to see his eyes, just pale green embers, flare and burn in their sockets. She felt something inside her click, and she was out.

When she woke up, she was untransformed, she felt like death. She tried to sit up, only to find that she could barely move. "Tikki? Are you there? Please tell me your here."  A flash of pink light from her side. Oh hey, her arm didn't feel like scrambled eggs. Then Tikki flew in front of Marinettes face. A troubled, and slightly angry look on her face. "Marinette! Oh, I'm so glad you woke up! I thought you were going to die! There was so much blood."  Now that is was mentioned Marinette could feel the puddle she was laying in... These cloths would need to be burned... "How did he do that? Why did he do that!? Are you ok? Oh what am I saying of course your not! Can you move?"  The gale force speed of Tikki's questions finally subsided, giving Marinette time to actually answer some of them. "I'm not sure about how well I can move right now. How... How am I alive at the moment. I was bleeding so much."  Tikki gave her 'The Look'. The one that meant 'I saw that you did not answer all of my questions. We WILL talk about that later.' Tikki then settled onto Marinettes shoulder, the one that should be just a mass of hamburger. She felt like she was going to be sick. "I am the Kwami of healing, remember? Lets get you back home. Then We can 'ALL' talk about this."   Tikki said, as she pulled multiple macaroons out of Marinettes bag. "Ill gwide ou frough the cag-"  Marinette gave Tikki a look. Who then sheepishly swallowed and gave an innocent smile. "I'll guide you through the catacombs Then we can zip back home. You should call Rena, and Carapace." Tikki informed Marinette.

Ladybug walked shakily outside the Catacombs.  

She spent twice as long as she needed to get home. She did, after all, have to find someway to tell her remaining best friends that Chat Noir... That Adrien... was now undead, and that he was haunting the streets of Paris.

Notes:

[christophe-delorne]

Gregstophe Week: Day 3

HAPPINESS // SCHOOL // DIFFERENT ERA AU

TITLE: Birthday Present

WARNINGS: Blood, death.

AGE: Adults

NOTES: The setting is based in the dirty 30s and heavily influenced by the anime Baccano! and 91Days. Pretty good shows if you're looking for Prohibition/Mafia type anime.

Christophe stared out the window of the cab, watching as the mansion came into view in all its grandeur. He dreaded coming back here because beneath the facade of perfectly groomed hedges and the blanket of neatly placed flowers that brought out the warm bricks, it house the most dangerous creatures in all of New York. And it was fitting that it was the very same placed he lived in, not exactly calling it home but better than nothing. He pulled a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his pinstripe vest, using it to clean his dirty, blood smeared hands. The residents that remained here didn't particularly like him to begin with, except one, but the person that mattered was the head of the family.

The Head of the Gambino Family was a very powerful man, the same man he owed his life to, technically speaking. Christophe didn't see it that way, not that he would voice his opinions out loud. In truth, he owed his life to the Head's nephew, Gregory. While Gregory wasn't related to the Head by blood, the whole convoluted thing of the Head's brother marrying a woman who already had a kid and thus inducted into the family. There wasn't anything unusual about that, this kind of Family was bonded through loyalty and devotion. Mindless devotion.

Christophe didn't think too highly of families in general, having left his own abusive mother in France, becoming a stowaway to new lands and as far away from that woman as he could get. Her, he wanted to start a new life, nothing grand as he already knew his position in life. A street urchin, a thief prone to violence, fighting over scraps just to survive. It was when he tried to pickpocket Gregory, that their paths crossed. He'd thought he'd been sly, going unnoticed as he brushed passed the other blond boy. Little did he know that he'd brushed closed to death as Gregory caught his seeking hand, holding it up high in the air, leaving Christophe exposed as a thief.

Throughout the years, he'd grown up with Gregory, who had made it his personal goal to mold Christophe into what he was now. Gregory taught him how to fight properly, how to shoot a gun or stab a person just right. He knew all the vital points in which to kill a man or torture. Gregory had taken him out on his first job, beating a man who'd been harassing local women on their turf, all the while Gregory laughing as if it was a god damn show. At the age of fourteen, Gregory had taken him to kill his first man, a rat who'd been selling them out to the cops. Gregory had taught him how to survive, but also, there was smaller moments. Rare and far between.

Sitting near the pond, drinking moonshine together, laughing and telling stories. Gregory teaching Christophe how to drive his new automobile and nearly running several people over in the process, but it had been fun. Helping out in the garden, it felt good to dig into the dirt, not to bury a body, but to create life, something that had never before crossed Christophe's mind. During the summer, they'd go for swims at the beach, Christophe nearly drowning when he'd been too stubborn to admit the fact he didn't know how to swim. Luckily Gregory did and had embarrassingly rescued him from the crashing waves. Gregory had given him everything and in return, Christophe would give his life in turn for the man. As cheesy and romantic as that sounded, it would be the literal truth considering their line of work.

He could've been killed, the Head had wanted to, but Gregory convinced the man otherwise, indicating a street rat like him would be useful, just the person they were looking for. Now here he was, in his late twenties and known in the city as a few names. The enforcer, the cleaner, the butcher. All fitting. If someone did wrong by the Gambino family, he was sent out to fix that. Today he'd gone out to put one of the moonshiners back into place. Apparently, with the prohibition at its peak, he wanted more cash for risking his neck. Christophe had shown him that the police would be a godsend in comparison to the mafia. He hadn't killed the man, no, they were running low on people whole could make decent hooch that wasn't already in the big house doing time.

When the cab pulled to a stop, Christophe got out without paying, the cab business was also a part of the Gambino family, so rides for members were free of charge. Christophe flicked the remains of his cigarette onto the gravel, snuffing it out with the toe of his boot. He could hear a band playing out back in the garden, must be celebrating Gregory's birthday without him, not that it was any surprise. Christophe was rarely invited and only when the show of force was needed. Now he just needed to face the big man and let him know the job was done, after a few broken bones he'd managed to convince their booze supplier to be satisfied with his current pay.

Climbing up the regal white steps, he was greeted by a man leaning against one of the grand white pillars, the usual guard.  "'ey, back already, Chris?" The dark haired male greeted casually, not bothering to move from his spot, looking tired as usual. He wore a nice black suit, he'd dressed up for the party more than likely even if he couldn't attend. Damien was an enigma, always seeming to be on guard duty and it was only occasionally that Christophe saw him doing anything else, like eating or even sleeping. It wasn't even like Damien was guarding, but more along the lines of watching, as if all of this was some big show put on just for him.

"Yes." Christophe grunted in reply, not really wanting to make small talk with Damien, the man gave him bad vibes, like a predator sensing another predator. As long as they stayed out of each other's way, everything would be fine. However, Damien seemed all too keen on instigating that tension, they'd both been brought into the family as orphans. While Christophe had been a street rat, Damien's origin was unknown.

"Don't be all wet, Chris. Can't you hear rag going on in the back, even a half-portion like you is invited." Damien raised his own cigarette to his lips, taking a pull as those unnerving dark red eyes watched Christophe. Despite his Yankee slang, the man was all serious, as if putting up a front to hide his true nature. Christophe was used to seeing through such things, that's all what this family was about, hiding their real self from others.

"Not interested." Christophe shut him down and reached for the handle to the door, but before he could open it, Damien placed a hand over his, making Christophe glare sharply at him for the offense. Christophe didn't like to be touched by anyone, not even Gregory at times. Everyone knew this, especially Damien. They'd often got into scuffs, needling at each other. Christophe didn't know whether or not Damien actually wanted to kill him or not, that alone was enough to put him on edge around the other male.

"Don't go makin' tracks just yet, not 'til you listen to what I gotta' say." Damien sounded serious, that playful tone from earlier vanishing as if it had never existed. "I caught sound of someone filliin' up someone else with daylight, the folks wingdig couldn't hear it from all the racket. Someone's been gummin' up the works lately, so the bossman ain't too happy. So watch your back, pond hopper."

Christophe tensed, he knew immediately why Damien was concerned about him. Why lately the Head of the family was getting a little restless. He didn't think it would happen, but he needed to get inside now, but he feared he may already be too late. Fear wasn't exactly a emotion that he felt often. Or ever until now. Damien seemed to sense the sudden surge of urgency within Christophe and released the other man's hand. Christophe immediately yanked the door open, not bothering to close it as he ran inside. The large building was empty inside, everyone was outside, enjoying the weather, food, and festivities, oblivious to whatever had happened inside.

Christophe took the stairs two at a time, uncaring if he was being noisy, his hand already reaching for the revolver hidden just inside his vest. He couldn't let himself fall into a panic, that they'd been found out and that everything had been ruined in one fell swoop. He panted heavily as he ran down the hall decorated with paintings and other expensive things, heading towards the office where the Head of the family conducted his business. He could see light spilling into the hallway from the crack in the door, the door was never left ajar and that alone was a sign of concern.

Uncaring in his need to know what happened, Christophe kicked the door the rest of the way open and aimed his gun with deadly intent, planning on shooting the head of the family where he sat, fearing the worse. Nothing good ever lasted when it came to him and Gregory's death was always in the back of his mind. However, when his eyes adjusted to the light in the room, the sight before him was surprising.

Gambino was sitting in his chair facing the door, eyes wide in horror and his olive skin stained with slowly drying blood that had poured freely from the gaping hole in his wrinkled forehead. Death had captured his last moments, but it was difficult to believe that the man had died, even with the still bleeding gunshot wound in his head. All the problems he'd had were gone in an instant. Too easily as Christophe's fingers went numb, dropping the gun to the floor. His gaze had been so focused on Gambino's dead body, he hadn't noticed that he wasn't alone in the room.

Silhouetted by the sunlight pouring from the floor to ceiling windows, Gregory turned away from the blood flecked panes that overlooked the garden. His attention turning to Christophe. A pleasant smile formed, charming even with a few smears of blood over his face and in his blond hair. He moved with a confident grace, not a single nerve rattled as he stabbed the bloodied knife he'd been holding into the desk beside the gun Christophe guessed had been the killing shot after the man had been brutalized with a knife. Gregory was heading towards him, Christophe couldn't move, he wasn't scared... He was relieved that Gregory was alive and unharmed.

He knew Gregory had been growing more and more dissatisfied with his Uncle's demands and refusals. The last push had been one crucial refusal that tipped Gregory over the edge, Christophe just hadn't realized how far Gregory would go to get what he wanted. Green eyes tilted up as Gregory now invaded his personal space. Gloved hands raised, gently cradling Christophe's face. One thumbs stroked back and forth admiringly just below one eye, leaving a smear of blood on olive skin. Christophe was at a loss for words, which was a first for the usually brutally honest and vulgar Frenchman.

"What did you do, Gregory?" Christophe already know, but he needed to hear it from the man himself, needing to hear Gregory admit to the gruesome scene before them.

"You know why, doll." Gregory soothed, his voice quiet as if calming a frightened animal.  It was almost insulting and Christophe would had brushed  his hands away if he hadn't been captured in a state of shock, which was new for him. "I took out the one remaining obstacle in the way of our marriage. The perfect birthday gift to me."