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daydream-believin · 4 years

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A Nice Rock For You, My Love (Please Accept)

Summary: Douxie would like to give the reader a special present.

Warnings: Swearing, stabbing, blood, swords and a knife.

Word Count: 3092 -ten pages 12 point times new roman, baby!

A/N: even i couldn’t predict where the hell this was headed. have fun with this. i sure did ;)

Douxie placed his newest rock onto the window ceil in his bedroom. He’d display it for a while, but add it to the collection jar with the others once it was replaced. Every morning he’s wake up, see the shiny stone on his window ceil, and think of his wonderful significant other.

Y/n was an odd duck, but an endearing one at that. They spent most of their time out in the local forest. Douxie wasn’t sure what they did out there for so long each day, but that didn’t matter as long as they’d come back to see him in the evenings. They’d return to civilization every night scruffy, smelly, and with twigs stuck in their hair, but he thought they looked lovely. Enchanting even. A little dirt never did hurt anyone.

He was going to have to get a new jar soon. Every week or so, Y/n would present him with a new one. A token of their affection for the wizard. He kept every single one. He kept one in the pocket of his favourite jacket. Y/n had found that particular one in the flat of a creek bed. They were drawn in by the bright blue color, reminding them of their beloved wizard’s most recent dye job. After fishing it out, it turned out to be a piece of beach glass, but it was very smooth and rounded. Douxie was using it as a worry stone.

Of course, rocks weren’t the only thing Y/n had brought him. Any small thing not tied down the forest could offer was up for grabs to the local cryptid. Sometimes they’d leave him feathers from a bird they swore they got permission from to take. Sometimes they’d give him sticks they carved intricate designs into. Sometimes bones. A lot of times bones. Not enough bones for visitors in his home to question though. They just assumed he was really goth. One time, Y/n even straight up gifted him a jar of mud. Well, it supposed to be soil from the picnicking spot they often spent their dates, some water from the nearby stream, with a few hand-plucked flower heads added to the top. Romantic, right? Unfortunately, it was accidentally shaken up between the time Y/N made it and the time they presented it to Doux. Still, it was proudly displayed on his shelf.

As tokens of affection began to collect, Doux decided he should return the favor. He’d find the perfect gift for his dear Y/n. One to show them just how much he cared, just how far his affection for them reached. Something to make that toothy smile light up their pretty face. Something to seal a promise to them, that he’d be by their side until the end of time.

So here he was, in this jewelry store, trying to find that perfect shiny rock for his significant other. It wasn’t going too well, to be honest. Everything was too fancy, and quite frankly, too expensive. It was like the whole store was polished and perfect. All those rings were beautiful, yes, but they looked like they belonged on the finger of a middle-class suburban spouse, not his wonderfully scruffy partner. His darling sasquatch. Too impersonal for his taste.

He’d decided that the only way to match Y/n’s energy was to find the stone himself. Luckily, he did live in Arcadia. Right below his feet were a system of caves that spanned at least a hundred miles. Surely the local trolls wouldn’t mind. Okay, so they did, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

After some exploring some of the tunnels for a while and getting a wee bit lost in the maze, he eventually came across a patch of purpley clusters growing from the cave wall. Amethysts, he guessed? Maybe fluorite. Either way, it was marvelous. The color was even close to that of Y/n’s magic. They put off a nice good energy too. This would be perfect. He just needed to find a small enough piece, or chip off a bit, and his quest would be complete. He magicked himself up a knife and set to work. It took him several tries, but eventually he wound up with a nice rock. It wasn’t perfect, even kind of lopsided for a ring, but it was a really good purple rock. Raw too. Uncut and unpolished, like them.

He brought it over to his work buddy Annie’s place. She had been really into jewelry making this year. Douxie had seen some of her work. It was top notch. She’d make him a nice personalized ring and set the stone into it. And he’d have the peace of mind knowing that this gift would be an excellent piece of craftsmanship. Hopefully Y/n wouldn’t lose it in the river. Thankfully, he had measured their ring size during their nap yesterday. So it would be nice and snug. Not drop-in-the-riverable at all… He’d enchant it.

Now all there was to do was wait. He had to give it to them at just the right moment for maximum romantic impact here. He’d watched a thousand proposal videos on youtube to get some semblance of an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. To be honest, a lot of them seemed kind of over the top and forced. While Doux was a showman, he didn’t want to go that route. This moment was going to be special. Intimate. Full of love.

He’d set up a lovely date for the occasion. A moonlight picnic in their favourite spot. Romantic, with candles. And roses. And champagne. He’d bring his acoustic too, to play for them. A classic serenade for his love. He also dressed up the trees around with some twinkly magical lights. He was thinking of making them a little show with magic lights too, to narrate their love story. After it was all over, they’d head over to the clearing to go star gazing. And they’d fall asleep under the stars in each other’s arms as a betrothed couple. Okay, so maybe he was going over the top after all. Just a tad. He couldn’t help it.

Once he got it all set up, he asked Archie to watch over it while he went to go get his darling. He even acquired a blindfold so he could get that maximum surprise effect. But he didn’t take into account the fact that nature isn’t exactly flat, and he had to help them carefully navigate the forest floor. At a certain point, he just decided to just pick Y/n up bridal style and carry them, eliciting a giggle from them. It was faster and easier for both parties. Also more romantic. A win-win. Y/n noticed his heart was beating pretty fast as they leaned against his chest. He was getting antsy as the spot came into view.

He was pleased and relieved to see that nothing had gone amiss so far. Everything was intact. Archie was just lazily snoozing on the blanket. Douxie cleared his throat to catch Arch’s attention and silently shooed him away with a head jerk. The dragon-cat nodded and took off towards town. Douxie placed Y/n down onto the blanket, oh so gently, taking their blindfold off to reveal everything. Y/n was, to Douxie’s dismay, immediately aware that something was up. This was quite the set up before them. They reacted nervously, which disheartened him slightly, but he couldn’t back out now. He wouldn’t back out now. He won’t.

He handed Y/n the bouquet of roses, and they flushed. That wonderful pink color of their cheeks somehow gave him enough courage to help him make it through his entire prepared speech without stuttering. What a feat. Despite their earlier wariness, Y/n was captivated. They hung off his every word. Douxie came to the conclusion that he must be using every drop of luck he had right now. Now for the best part, or the part that could embarrass him the most, depending on whether or not his luck continued. Time to woo his beloved with a special song he wrote just for them. Time to bear his soul. His fingers danced over the strings with practiced skill. The most beautiful melody Y/n had ever heard. They had stars in their eyes. He was halfway through his serenade when the heavens opened up.

Douxie almost instantly cast a magic shield over them. It was beautiful, in a way. The raindrops bucketing down, hitting the transparent glowing shield. It made a private percussion symphony just for them. Rain. Douxie saving the day. It was so cliché, they laughed together. Those freckles on his face danced adorably as he shook with laughter. So, in the spirit of clichés, Y/n decided to repay him for all his chivalry with a kiss. It caught him off guard at first, eyes wide, but he quickly melted into it.

As the kiss deepened, he pulled his fingers through their hair. They let out a moan into his mouth. He couldn’t help the lovesick grin that spread across his face. He turned his attention towards their neck. They tipped their head to give him better access, letting their hands travel down his back. He smelled smokey, he must have had some spell backfire on him today. How endearing. As Doux kissed right under their jaw, they opened their eyes just a half-lid. And then promptly snapped them open all the way. They briskly pulled back, eliciting a whine from Douxie.

“Uhhh, Doux,” He turned around to see what had frightened them.

“Oh fuzzbuckets,” he blinked at the sight, “is that a wolf?” Douxie exclaimed in disbelief.

“No, no, not a wolf. It can’t be a wolf. There’s exactly one singular wolf pack in Cali and its definitely not in fucking Arcadia Oaks.”

The wolf stepped forward. It was smaller than a normal wolf. A wolf-dog maybe. It snarled at them, spit dripping from its sharp teeth. They dared not move, and risk provoking it. Still as statues, Y/n and Douxie watched as it howled a warning to them. Or at least they thought it was a warning.

Suddenly, a very tall figure appeared through the trees. Black cloak billowing in the dark storm, it was if cooked up from some horror novel. Well, a children’s horror novel. It probably could have been much, much scarier. Especially to a couple of wizards that also frequently wore black and walked through the dark with their own less-than-domestic pets. But nevertheless, the sight raised the hackles on the backs of their necks. The wolf-dog ran to its master’s side. The figure patted his familiar’s scruffy head, then strode towards the picnic.

Douxie and Y/n swiftly sprang to their feet. Doux stepped in front of Y/n, to their annoyance. They could hold their own and Douxie knew it, but he couldn’t help those protective instincts. As the figure came closer, he dramatically tossed back his hood. Lightning struck at the very moment his bearded face was revealed to them. Completely by coincidence, honest.

“Eoin?” Douxie exclaimed in surprise. That expression of surprise then twisted into one of disgust. “Oh bleeding balroths, it’s fucking Eoin.” He half-shouted, half-grumbled.

“Aye, Hisirdoux! My old pal! How’ve you been, bruv?” Eoin flourished his cloak and smirked at the two. He eyed up Y/n. “And what a lovely partner you’ve got here, might I add.” Y/n shifted to be a bit more behind Doux.

“What do you want, my friend?” Douxie frustratedly asked. Y/n was getting the impression that, despite the terms of endearment here, these two were not friends.

“Why, don’t you already know, little Douxie? I’m here to settle something I should have long ago.” He said in a now less-than-friendly tone of voice.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Douxie was exasperated. Eoin just started coming closer. “Alright, mate,” Douxie raised his hands, flicking through his cuff, getting ready for what he knew was about to transpire without any more delay. His adversary shot up his hands to stop him.

“Oh! No, no, no! Friend, we’ll settle this like men. The old-fashioned way.”

Eoin summoned two rapiers out of thin air. Both some sort of gleaming black metal and glowing jewels. He kept the one with the red gems in his right hand, and tossed Douxie the one with the blue gems with his left. Color coordination, one supposes. Douxie tested the blade with a few swings and parries. His eyes looked down at the rapier and then to Eoin. They sort of bowed to each other.

They fenced back and forth deftly. It was like a dance. A tango. Y/n was impressed at how light footed Douxie actually was. Maybe he planned this? Was this a part of the show or something? It would be an excellent way to prove how capable he was of defending them from evil or whatever. But they got the feeling that this was undeniably real and not planned by, if not for the rancid aura hanging in the air, the absolutely murderous looks in the two men’s eyes.

The wolf-dog came towards Y/n. They readied a spell for defense, but the dog just, sort of sat next to them? It looked like it was also watching the fight intently. It would woof at the two whenever its master got the upper hand, almost as if cheering him on. Strange. A good boy, Y/n supposed. They’d reach down to pet it but they didn’t fancy losing their hand.

Eventually, Douxie came out on top. The duel had been nasty, but it now looked as if it was all but through. Douxie had Eoin knocked onto his back in the mud at the base of one of the massive old oak trees Arcadia was known for. He held his blade to Eoin’s throat, and they locked eyes. Douxie was huffing for air. But to Eoin’s surprise, He started apologizing. An entire speech. Confusion flashed on Eoin’s face. Hisirdoux had always felt guilty about his transgressions as a lad, about the people he trampled in order to survive before Merlin gave him a home. So he’d spare his old enemy. He was terribly sorry he’d begun this feud in the first place.

“And what say you, old buddy,” Douxie grinned hopefully with a glimmer in his hazel eyes. Douxie held out his hand in an offer of actual friendship. He stared into Eoin’s eyes. Eoin stared into his. Eoin’s shaky hand began to reach up to take Douxie’s. They clasped their hands together. Brothers. And for a moment, Douxie had really thought they had made up this time, looking into Eoin’s feeble smile. That is, until Eoin yanked Douxie down towards himself on the ground. Right into his ready, hungry blade.

To the soundtrack of Y/n’s screams, Eoin stood up, casually tossing Douxie’s limp body off his sword. The wind whipped his cloak as he stormed off, into the storm. The wolf-dog followed his master, howling in victory. Y/n was crossing the woods to cling to Doux in an instant.

He coughed up some blood, and intensely stared into Y/n’s eyes. He weakly took their hand, and caressed their cheek. Then remembered to reach into his pocket and pull out that special ring. He slipped it onto their slick, wet finger. Oh, it appeared that their hands were covered in blood. His blood. Neat.

“I- I wanted to a-” he coughed up some more blood, “to ask you if-”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” they sounded panicked, “please, save your breath, my love.” They pleaded. He feebly leaned in to kiss them, but then his world went black. His body fell like a ragdoll into Y/n’s arms.

Try as they might, they weren’t a healer. Purple light shone like a beacon in the black stormy night. They performed as many healing, even vaguely healing-ish fixit spells as they knew. Unfortunately, this was a stab wound from a magic blade. They couldn’t take him to the hospital, even if they had any trust in modern medicine. Hot tears streamed down their face. But the word hopeless is not devoid of hope. Hope sparked in their heart as they remembered something, somewhere, important.

They had to get him out of here, and fast. He was bleeding out. There was so, so much blood. It had positively soaked through Y/n’s already wet clothes before they were even half way to their destination. The smell of the rain mixing with all the blood was sickening. It was hard to find their way in this darkness. They slipped on the mud and tripped over rocks. Y/n was starting to slip into a panic attack. They couldn’t even go very fast, he was so heavy in their arms. And Y/n was frightened of hurting him even more by accident. Y/n was very, very frightened in general.

Time moved like molasses. In what could have been years for Y/n, the cave they were carrying Douxie to finally came within sight. Their heart was threatening to pound right out of their chest. They mustered up the last of their strength and broke out into a sprint. Bolting through the curtain doors of the cave and knocking around the strings of bones that hung with them, Y/n dropped to their knees.

“Please! Save him! I beg of thee.” They pleaded to the three old women sitting around the hearth.

***

Douxie was awoke to the sound of shuffling and unintelligible whispers. He could smell a strong mix of herbs in the air. He felt the soft back of a cold hand rest on his forehead, so he slowly opened his eyes. He was met with the red tear-streaked face of his beloved. Y/n gasped. they excitedly called to whoever else was in the room with them that he was now awake. He did not recognize these women. He did not recognize where he was. He supposed that didn’t matter.

Y/n pulled him into a gentle hug, as if he were made of glass. A handsome glass sculpture that would shatter if they let go of him. They just lied there, holding onto each other for dear life, for what must have been an hour. Breathing in each other’s scents, they had still refused to let go, but Douxie started to cough again. They reluctantly pulled apart, and y/n started their interrogation about any pain he might be experiencing. He was alright, a little sore, but fine. Nothing time won’t fix. And time he was glad to still have with them.

***

bonus A/N: i swear this was supposed to be normal, just a sappy proposal fic. but once i set everything up i was overcome with the urge to stab him. so i created a character specifically to stab him. idk im not sorry. at first i had eoin like, cheat the duel with magic, but i figured doux would be his own downfall with that bleeding heart of his we all love so much. happy november y’all.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #my writing

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enchantedliving · 4 years

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Insect hotels are a creative and easy way to add a functional feature to your garden or landscape. Their purpose is to attract beneficial insects to your property. Although creepy-crawlies may not be your idea of welcome visitors, the health of our food system depends on them. Without pollinators we would not have fruits or vegetables. Without predatory insects, our flowers would be decimated. If it weren’t for the ground-dwelling insects, our plants would be gasping for air and suffocating in organic matter. Plus, insects are really cool and occasionally downright enchanting.

An insect hotel is a man-made replica of the natural habitats insects search for in the wild. When constructing them, the most important feature to keep in mind is that they should be as natural as possible. Look around your yard for inspiration. Each type of insect generally requires a specific material for its nesting site.

Mason bees, or Osmia, are an easy first guest. With them, you can be a beekeeper without having to do all the work involved in keeping honey bees. This is because they are solitary insects who use tubular burrows to lay eggs. These holes are usually left behind by woodpeckers or mice that make natural pockets in trees, logs, or any other protected cavities such as hollow twigs or a snail shell. Mason bees also easily adapt to man-made structures with predrilled holes or attractively arranged reed bundles. They’re named after their habit of building with mud, clay, or grit, which they use as masonry to build their nests. One especially fancy species of mason bee even uses flower petals to line their nest.

The orchard mason bee (Osmia lignaria) and the blueberry bee (Osmia ribifloris) are both native to the Americas. They’re nonaggressive and safe to approach and observe at a close distance. They very rarely sting unless handled roughly, and when they do, it is far less painful than the stings of other bees. Considered super pollinators, they have fuzzy bellies that spread lots of pollen as they flit quickly from flower to flower. These metallic green or blue bees are smaller than a honey bee and do not produce honey or beeswax. All females are fertile and build their own nests. The males emerge first from the cocoons they wintered in and anxiously await the females at the edge of the nest. After mating, the male dies and the female prepares for motherhood alone.

Setting out for provisions, she visits thousands of flowers to collect nectar and pollen. She then chooses her nesting location and begins by filling a cell with the food and laying a single egg on top. She creates a partition of mud that doubles as the back wall of the next cell. She continues this process until she’s filled the cavity. Female eggs are laid in the back of the chamber, while males go toward the front. Once finished, this supermom will plug the entrance of the tube and search for another location while the baby bees go through two phases of metamorphosis inside their individual chambers. The larvae spins a cocoon and becomes a pupae, and remains snug as a bug all winter long. Come spring, they emerge as adults and the cycle begins again.

Visit Jennifer Muck-Dietrich online at ediblewisdoms.com. Follow Kristin Reimer on Instagram @photomuse_kristin.

#bees #save the bees #insects #diy #orchard #garden #nature #magic #enchanting

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lettersofsky · 7 years

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A Programmed Mistake

Alright, so this is a commission piece I’ve been working on the past week for someone who prefers to remain unlisted and I’ve finally finished the thing and given it to the person. They gave me a vague premise and aside from a few requested add-ons and a different ending left me to my own devices.

Fandom: FNAF Characters: Original Character (Hazel {she’s mine}), Circus Baby, Ballora Trigger warnings: Implied character death, Implied fetus death, Horror elements. Tip Jar

Hazel walked into the entryway of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, clutching the small bit of newspaper in her hand. If this didn’t work out then she didn’t know what she was going to do; their rent was already late and her partner was already working overtime just to get that settled, add on the fact that her last employer had decided to kick her out instead of just paying for her maternity leave and they were in a bit of a bind.

But the add in her hands seemed to be the answer to what she was looking for; casual work close to home where they’d simply call her in if they needed her. It was the perfect solution to what they needed, she’d be getting some income to help with the rent and even got to get some exercise in as she walked to the little family pizzeria that was located only a few blocks from their apartment block.

She’d like it more if it didn’t have anything to do with the downright terrifying animatronics they had here but she wasn’t going to be picky about where she got her payslip.

She was nervous as she approached one of the workers standing behind the front counter, unable to shake the feeling of dredge that was blooming in her chest and telling her to get out of there as quickly as she could. She took a steadying breath and straightened her spine as much as she could, she wasn’t going to let some unwarranted emotions stop her from doing this.

“Hello,” she greeted in a cheery, professional tone. “I’m here because of the casual maintenance position add in the paper.”

The worker, a tall teenager with oily, straight hair, snapped to attention, he seemed to have been zoning out before she spoke to him and stared at her a moment, disbelief painting his face.

Hazel tried not to be offended by his expression, she was used to getting that look from people; they seemed to think that simply because she was a short, slim woman that she couldn’t do what they could.

… Or perhaps it was due to her more-than-obvious baby bump?

Actually the disbelief was most likely due to the bump.

“Oh, sorry!” He exclaimed, realizing that he was staring at her. “Yeah, um… you’re gonna wanna talk to the boss out back. I’ll… um, I’ll take you right to him.” His words were quiet and he avoided her eye while speaking to her, almost mumbling the words into his hand as he moved around the counter towards a plain yellow-door simply labelled ‘Staff’.

She followed him through the back walkway of the establishment until they came to a door tucked into a corner labelled ‘Management’. He knocked on the door in a hurried manner, opening the door enough to duck in and address the person inside. “Boss? There’s uh, someone here for the maintenance job.”

Hazel didn’t hear the reply but the teen nodded and stepped back from the door, ushering her inside before turning to return to his work. She watched him go for a moment before turning her attention to the door before her, opening the plain wood and stepping inside.

She was going to get this job no matter what.

Turns out, it isn’t so hard to convince a desperate man to hire a very qualified pregnant woman. If only it was that easy all the time.

The job was simply, they’d call her in to work on the animatronics when they couldn’t get any of the others to come in for some reason, the maintenance would be done at night after business hours unless an emergency occurred and they needed a quick fix up during the day. That was fine with her, she’d always been a bit of a night owl and night rates were a bit better than day rates anyway.

They wanted her to work that very night, in the Storage Facility where they kept their rental animatronics. Apparently the maintenance guy working there hadn’t come into work the past few days and they needed someone to go fix up ‘Circus Baby’ and ‘Ballora’ for a booking the next day. She had been too happy to scoop that up when it was offered, eager to get started and get her first paycheque.

She was given a key card and a set of instructions before she left the Pizzeria, telling her exactly where to go and what to do to in order to get into the underground Storage Facility. The two animatronics would be ready and waiting for her in the Parts and Service room, she would only have to go in, do her job and leave.

She left the Pizzeria beaming, eager to return home to get a nap in before the start of her first night shift.

The Storage Facility was rather eerie now that she was here, the elevator ride down had been downright nerve-wracking; it had seemed like it could break and plunge her to her death at a moment’s notice. But it had gotten her to where she needed to be and by inputting the code she had been given she was granted access to the Parts and Service area, where the two animatronics were waiting for her.

She had thought that the animals were terrifying but they held nothing to the two animatronics in front of her. They looked like something that was almost human, if you used human in the loosest sense of the word.

The smaller one must have been at least seven feet tall and the face it’s features were stuck in a permanent macabre smile, teeth bared in a sinister grin. It’s arm and legs were thicker than Hazel’s own, and its hands looked like they could snap her easier than she would a twig. Everything about it was plastic, including its unnaturally bright, orange pigtails.

The other animatronic vaguely resembled a ballerina, with its attire and the way it’s feet were designed; leaving it to balance on the very tips of its toes and leaving it a bit taller than the other animatronic in the room, leaving them both much taller than Hazel herself was. It’s shell also appeared to be made of plastic, the material left the animatronic looking cold and hollow in its state of inactivity.

Or at least Hazel hoped they were both deactivated, she didn’t know if she could work on them while they were active and staring at her with their empty, glass eyes.

She took a few shaky breaths before stepping into the room, sighing in relief when nothing happened. She ignored the animatronics for the moment and instead moved over the work bench positioned on the other side of the room, looking through the pile of blueprints that littered the space and completely unaware of the way a single, gleaming emerald eye tracked her movements.

She found the two blueprints labelled with the names of the animatronics she would be working on; Circus Baby, the smaller one with the pigtails and Ballora, the ballerina-looking one. Each of the animatronics had a list of features in the bottom corner of the blueprints but she ignored them, more focused on discovering how to open up their shell to find what needed to be worked on. It seemed that the plastic pieces were held together by pieces that could open up when the right sequence of buttons was pressed, a glance at her instructions showed her that the correct sequence had indeed been printed for each of the animatronics.

She huffed a sigh of relief, at least she didn’t have to worry about having to mess around with that.

She decided to start with Ballora as it seems the larger animatronic only had a few minor issues with some of the joints of her torso that allowed her upper body to spin completely independent of her legs, it should have been an easy fix.

It should have been.

But Hazel didn’t count of the age of the joint she found when she opened up the animatronic’s chest, nor the countless fraying wires that were visible to her eyes. Geez, it looked like the machine hadn’t been looked at since it was made. A quick look at the rest of the endoskeleton showed her that the majority of the damage was in its chest area and there was none anywhere else, it also showed her that the animatronic had a set of needle-sharp teeth for some reason but she really didn’t want to think about that.

Instead she returned to the work bench, gathered her long curls of brown hair into a bun and began to search for the parts she’d need to get the ballerina in working order for the show tomorrow. There was a bit too much for her to do in one night and she still had to work on the other animatronic, so she would leave a request form for a touch up on the wires within its chest cavity. Hopefully, they’d get around to fixing it before it broke completely.

If they didn’t, then it wasn’t her problem.

‘A new arrival?’ Baby thought, staring at the thing that was currently working on something in Ballora’s chest cavity. It was wearing one of the uniforms worn by those that tore them apart and put them back together night after night, but it didn’t look like any of the workers they had ever seen before.

It looked softer than they were, round in a way that Baby associated with Freddy’s design purposes. Glassy, emerald eyes followed the other’s movements closely, following their movements as they replaced parts within the chest of the other animatronic.

Perhaps this was actually a new friend meant to help them with their directive? They certainly looked trustful enough, it would be easy to lure away children looking like that.

The new arrival turned to the side, showing off the noticeable bump to its frame. ‘Ah,” Baby realized, staring at the new arrival’s form intently. ‘It seems they’ve already collected their first child.’

If that was the case then they needed to get them into the scooping room so the child could be retrieved for testing.

Hazel finished the repairs on the tallest animatronic after a few hours of work, carefully replacing the old hinges with new ones before closing the plastic shell back over the endoskeleton. That was one animatronic down, one more to go before she could leave for the night.

She stretched after she was done, hands pressed to the small of her back as she did so. She hadn’t worked on something like this in a long time, it was just as exhausting as she remembered it being.

She picked up the instructions she had been given and looked through what she needed to do for Circus Baby, they said that there was something wrong with the animatronic’s left arm and she needed to open the limb in order to discover what she needed to do. It was easy to get the limb open now that she’d done it once already.

Unfortunately, she needed something else to fix the arm. There were a few parts she needed that weren’t in the Parts and Service room but according to the instructions she had been given, there should be some of what she needed in the central office just down the corridor. She left the Parts and Service room and quickly made her way to the central office.

She returned to the room after getting the parts she needed, but the animatronics were missing.

She felt her breath leave her in a rush, panic quickly filling her chest and her bronze skin paling as she searched the room for the missing animatronics. She didn’t know where they had gone, how could they have disappeared? They were giant, they shouldn’t have been able to disappear like that.

She… she couldn’t be here anymore. She dropped the parts she had gotten on the floor and rushed to get out of the facility. In her rush, she left her key card behind on the workbench.

She was in a blind panic by the time she reached the elevator, desperately trying to get the door to open to take her back to the surface. But it wouldn’t open without the key card.

She spent a moment slumped against the elevator, chest heaving with panicked breaths as she realized that she would need to return to the Parts and Service room. She didn’t want to go back in there but she needed to if she wanted to get out of the facility.

A sharp pain ripped through her as her unborn child gave a rather violent kick against her insides, digging into foot well into the walls of her womb and into one of her surrounding organs. “Oh, no sweetie!” She gasped quietly, hand moving to cradle her bump. “I know this is bad, but this is definitely not the time!” The sensation died down after a few moments, leaving her gasping against the lingering pain.

She turned and began to cautiously make her way back to the room, senses trained on the facility around her as she moved. She couldn’t hear anything around her nor could she see anything but she knew that something was watching her, she could feel something watching her.

She reached Parts and Service with no incident and found the key card exactly where she had left it, on the workbench buried under the blueprints of the animatronics. She clutched the key card close to her chest, turning to make her way out of the room.

She didn’t expect to come face to face with one of the missing animatronics. She froze completely, staring at the large human-like animatronic that was standing in front of her. It cocked its large head slowly, the movement stilted and unnatural as it considered her.

Hazel could feel a terrified scream trying to tear its way out of her throat but she desperately fought it down, scared that the slightest movement could set the thing off and lead to her death.

The animatronic moved without her needing to though, its face springing open and revealing the metal skeleton that lay beneath. The animatronic seemed to seize up then, moving in a series of stiff, uncomfortable looking twitches in front of her. A sharp, high-pitched mechanical sound came from the animatronic as it moved.

Hazel felt her heart skip in her chest and her breath left her lungs, she struggled to get air into her lungs but was unable to. She collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Baby stared down at the collapsed form in front of them, face plates sliding back into place as their sporadic movements ceased and they were left standing in the Parts and Service room with the new arrival.

A steady, heavy noise came from behind them, turning showed that Ballora was approaching. Free of the track the larger animatronic was left to travel around the halls in a graceless movement, moving around on their hands and feet in a spider-like fashion.

“Did you find them?” Ballora asked, voice calm and musical.

“It seems to have deactivated,” Baby answered, turning back to where the new arrival was collapsed on the ground. “We should take them to the scooping room.”

“You believe it’s one of us?” Ballora questioned, words almost amused as she approached the collapsed form. “It’s obviously a human.”

“How can it be a human if it has a child trapped within?” Baby asked, peering down at the covered skin. “Humans aren’t hollow like we are.”

“I’m certain that it’s not one of us,” Ballora stated, coming to a stop next to the maybe-human. A slender hand reached out to rest against a dark cheek. “It’s warmer than anything we could ever manage.”

Baby stared at the other animatronic, cocking their head as they questioned the larger. “What should we do with them then? Leave them, take them to the Scooping Room?”

“We should take them to the Examination Room,” Ballora decided after a few moments of silence. “We can figure out if it’s one of us or not in there.”

Baby nodded, pleased by the decision that had been reached. Thick, plastic limbs picked up the new arrival and carried them towards the examination room hidden in the back of the facility.

The room’s damp walls had numerous tables holding medical equipment pushed against it and several examination tables filled the rest of the space of the large room. They placed the new arrival on one of the table, securing their limbs down with the straps attached to it.

Baby stepped back once the new arrival was tightly secured, gaze turning to the obvious bump in the centre of the new arrival’s form. Ballora was moving around the room, footsteps loud in the silence of the room.

A large, unfeeling hand reached out to the bump, the cold plastic resting against warm flesh. Large fingers moved after a moment, drumming against the covered part. It was softer than the plastic that covered them but perhaps it had simply been made with a different material than theirs in order to blend in better.

The large fingers began to press into the distended skin, pressing deeper and deeper into the flesh-like material until the material stopped moving as easily under the pressure of the unfeeling limbs. Empty eyes watched as the dark material lightened under the fingers, the area directly under the digits an almost white. The material stopped giving way suddenly and wouldn’t move any more under the digits, there was something under the material, Baby assumed it was the new arrival’s storage tank.

She lifted her digits from the discoloured material, observing the way it immediately resumed its previous state and shape. Glassy eyes stared at the way the material resumed its natural colour after only a few seconds before the process was repeated once more; testing if the material would resume its previous state in as quick a manner.

Ballora moved closer then, lifting her torso from the floor to observe the tests she had been performing. Long arms planted on the table’s surface kept her steadily in place as she had no way to properly keep herself balanced without the use of her arms off her track. Her eyes opened slightly, just enough to observe Baby’s movements before closing again.

Her attention was quickly lost without a sound to keep her senses occupied; the larger animatronic wasn’t programmed to be interested in what she saw only what she heard. She resumed her continuous track of the room, circling the examination table and the new arrival in an unending movement, waiting patiently for the first sounds of reactivation.

Baby removed her hand from the bump, staring at the new arrival with glass, emerald eyes. All they had to do now was wait for it to reactivate.

Hazel woke up an undetermined time later, her deep, steady breaths shifting to quick, panicked ones as she realized that she was strapped down to a hard metal table with some sort of leather bindings that made it impossible to move any of her limbs.

She tried to take deep breaths, knowing that panicking would not help her in this situation and that so much stress would not be good for the baby. She had almost gotten herself under control when a cold touch on her covered midsection tore a hoarse scream from her throat.

Brown eyes snapped open, frantically moving around the room as she desperately tried to move away from the touch. They quickly took in the damp walls of the room, the numerous sterile medical instruments lining the walls and finally the thing that had tied her down.

It was the Circus Baby animatronic, staring at her with dead, empty eyes and that same macabre smile. Its hand was resting on her midsection, just over her bump. The unnatural limb was heavy and cold through the grey material of her uniform, pinning her in place as the animatronic just stared at her.

The other one was in here too, she could hear in moving just outside of her vision-range, the sounds of its movements were deafening in her ears, almost drowning out the frantic beating of her heart in her ears. They were regular and heavy, far heavier than she had thought the ballerina animatronic would be when it moved.

Then the other came into her vision and she saw the reason behind the heavy footsteps. Ballora was not moving on her two feet like Hazel had originally thought, no it was moving around on its hands and legs in a facsimile of a spider. It turned its head towards her as it moved, arms and legs moving forward simultaneously, its blank, closed eyelids focused on her face.

She turned her attention back to Circus Baby went she felt cold fingers drum against her flesh, staring at the large animatronic currently touching her.

“What is this?” Circus Baby asked, voice cold, mechanical and unfeeling.

Hazel was petrified. Staring at the animatronic with wide, brown eyes, her voice was frozen in her throat, unable to answer the question she had been given. “W-What…?” She eventually managed to squeak out, her voice breaking on the single word.

“This.” Circus Baby repeated, drumming her covered midsection once more. “Have you eaten too much? Is this a new subject? Do you need to have them scooped out?”

“Scooped?” She squeaked, panic squeezing the heart in her chest.

“Yes,” came the neutral voice of the other animatronic, as it moved closed to the table she was strapped to. “The Scooper will remove your storage tank from your endoskeleton so that the subject can be extracted for testing.”

Hazel’s chest was heaving with her breaths, she stared at the two animatronics in stunned silence. The Scooper? Remove her baby from inside of her? They couldn’t be serious about that, could they?

“No… Not my baby,” she whispered softly, desperation colouring her voice. “Not my baby. Not my baby!” Her voice steadily rose in volume and pitch as she became more and more hysteric. “NOT MY BABY! NOT MY BABY!!” Her voice rose to a scream as she continued to repeat her plea to the unfeeling animatronics standing next to the table. “YOU CAN’T TAKE HER FROM ME!!!”

“It seems you were correct after all,” The crawling animatronic stated, turning to stare up at Circus Baby. Its voice was devoid of emotion, mechanical and neutral as it had been programmed to be. “The new subject will have to do extracted as soon as possible.”

“Indeed,” Circus Baby agreed, removing its heavy mechanical hand from Hazel’s midsection. “The Scooping Room is ready for extraction.”

Hazel’s vision was slowly darkening from her panic, she continued to scream, repeating her desperate, unheard pleas to the two animatronics. Circus Baby grasped her upper arms tightly, pinning her to the metal table as the leather straps holding her in place were removed. She kicked out desperately when the other animatronic freed her ankles, trying fruitlessly to escape the situation she was in.

The animatronics didn’t give any kind of indication that they noticed her struggles, Circus Baby merely lifted her from the cold table and began to drag her from the room. Hazel tried to keep her feet under her but couldn’t and ended up losing her footing. The animatronic didn’t react when she couldn’t support her weight, continuing to drag her towards the ‘Scooping Room’.

Her throat had grown hoarse with her screaming and though she continued to do so, her throat bleeding as she tried to force more words out. They weren’t listening to her though and continued to force her down the corridor without hesitation, slowly coming closer and closer to their final destination.

Circus Baby opened the metal door in front of them, forcing it open and dragging her inside. She tried to keep struggling but she couldn’t anymore, exhausted from the events leading up to this and her previous struggles. Even her pleas had ceased, she had been reduced to tears as she hung in the animatronic’s grip.

It strapped her down on a conveyer belt, forcing her arms down by her side and holding her in place before stepping back and leaving her there. Hazel stared weakly against the bindings but couldn’t dislodge them. She sobbed weakly, tears running down the tracks on her face and leaving it flushed and wet.

She couldn’t escape and she didn’t know what was going on. What she did know though; was that the ‘Scooper’, whatever that was, terrified her. She didn’t want to discover what they meant by what they had been saying in the other room before they brought her here.

She just wanted to go home; where her partner was waiting for her, safe and warm in their bed. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she wished that she hadn’t ever answered that add, paycheque be damned!

The conveyer belt started to move under her, rusted gears turning with a sickening, grinding noise as it moved her further into the freezing cold room. It stopped her right in front of a strange mechanical device.

It was just a giant metal arm attached to the floor, coiled up and ready to spring forward at a moment’s notice. At the end of it was a large claw, similar to an ice-cream scoop but sharper and deeper. This must have been ‘The Scooper’ that the animatronics had been talking about.

Her heart froze in her chest at the sight of the metal hand, her struggles increased as she tried desperately to get away from the thing. She didn’t want to know what it did, she didn’t want to see it activated at all. She needed to get out of here and call the authorities, tell someone about what had happened and get home to her partner.

She continued her struggles, jerking her limbs in an almost violent manner to escape the situation. She could feel the blood from the tore skin of her wrists dripping down her hands to her fingers, falling from her skin to pool on the conveyer belt beneath her. Her breaths continued to fall from her mouth in panicked, rapid and uneven movements.

The sound of machinery starting filled the room but she refused to turn her gaze to the meta arm in front of her and remained focused on her efforts to escape. She could feel the bindings keeping her in place loosening but she was all too aware of the ever-increasing sounds of the machine in front of her.

She summoned all her strength for one final attempt and jerked herself as hard as she could to one side.

A harsh, mechanical snapping noise filled the room.

#five nights at freddy's #commissioned piece #original character #Circus Baby #Ballora #horror #Implied character death #Implied fetus death #vague ending #not so vague alternate ending available on Patreon #This was almost more trouble than it was worth #but I'm glad it's done #and now I have something to add to savings for new computer

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ironwillcd-a · 8 years

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Roots

Grommash Hellscream trudged onward with very little regard to the wails of the infant at his side or the corpse slung over his shoulder. Draka’s weight was hardly a bother, and the child’s incessant whining had become white noise quite a while ago. “Keep up your spitting, child,” he had earlier threatened, “and you will soon find your place back in the river.” It hadn’t done much, considering the babe was hardly a few days old, and so the Warsong chieftain had only sighed and tried to pay it no mind.

In his absence, apparently, much had transpired. Orgrim Doomhammer had released his former chieftain, the so-called traitor Durotan. The Frostwolf leader had thrown down his banner in front of Gul’dan, initiating a sacred mak’gora in response to the slaughter of his people. What a fight it had been, Grommash’s clan mates told him, as Durotan and Gul’dan were nearly matched in raw strength. It disheartened Grommash that he had missed such a spectacle only to dispatch a certain Frostwolf woman.

But the story turned sour, like a rotten blood apple. Gul’dan had broken tradition; calling upon his gift when Durotan had him in a corner. He had cheated. Gul’dan, the savior of the orcs, the one that held so much respect and dignity in the minds of his people, had defied perhaps the most sacred orcish tradition that there was. Worst of all, the deed had gone unpunished and Durotan was left to expire like the clanless outcast that he had become.

To Grommash’s amusment, Orgrim had stood by his friend in the very end. It was Orgrim who held the banner, who watched with pained eyes as his childhood friend was robbed of his life and transformed into a frail husk of the powerful orc he had once been. As if to make matters worse, the events had transpired simply because the mighty Orgrim Doomhammer could not trust his chieftain’s judgement. It made Grommash laugh, the irony. One’s greatest friend could be the downfall of everything he loved.

Upon Grommash’s return, Durotan’s body was nowhere in sight, and neither was Orgrim. The smoke against the darkening sky led him to believe that Orgrim had dragged away his friend’s battered body to burn it. Funeral pyres were customary in honoring their dead, and even Grommash felt as though Durotan deserved more than being picked at by the birds. Draka, he decided, deserved no less than her mate.

The Warsong orc paused in his tracks, pausing to look at the now-sleeping infant in the basket, before he looked ahead and marched towards the source of the smoke.

- - -

The smell of burning flesh was ever-present in Orgrim’s nostrils as his eyes lingered upon the fire. The pyre was meager, a mere collection of sticks that he’d collected from the surrounding trees that barely managed to fit Durotan’s shriveled body atop them. Durotan deserved better, so much better, but this was all that Orgrim could offer. He had dishonored Durotan in life; he would honor him in death.

Boots crunching twigs beneath them drew his attention away from his mourning, whipping around with the Doomhammer readied in his hand. A lone orc approached him, carrying something resembling the form of a person over one shoulder and carrying a smaller object in his other arm. Orgrim glowered as the orc approached, able to recognize the visage of Grommash Hellscream as he grew closer. “You have no business here, Hellscream.” Orgrim’s tone was a warning as he called to the Warsong chieftain. “Why do you come?”

Grommash only snorted. “I am afraid I do have business here,” he retorted as he stood before the Frostwolf, where Orgrim was able recognize both the body and the basket he carried. Fury encased Orgrim’s very being.

“Are you respo-”

“Yes.” Grommash quirked a brow, moving to drop Draka’s corpse unceremoniously into Orgrim’s arms. “I would not have, if I knew that Durotan was right. I heard of the mak’gora. I felt that Draka deserved to burn with her mate.”

Orgrim glanced wildly to the basket and hoisted the body in his arms. “Did you hurt her son?”

“No. He lives, unscathed.”

A breath of relief released itself from the Frostwolf orc, peering in shock and disbelief at Draka’s limp body. He had failed her, too.

He looked expectantly at the basket in Grommash’s grasp, his golden eyes searching for any abnormalities. Grommash noticed this. “The child stays with me. I came to bring you your dead, not bestow upon you a son.”

It was completely Grommash’s intention to take the son of Durotan and Draka home to his clan, to stay. He couldn’t leave the child for dead; tradition forbade it. Besides, he might yet grow into a strong warrior, and the Warsong Clan needed those more than ever. Orgrim glanced up sharply, gaze narrowing.

“What are your intentions with him?” Orgrim growled, taking a step closer. “He is of an unbroken line of Frostwolf chieftains. There is no Warsong blood in his veins, Grommash. What use have you for the son of Frostwolf traitors?!”

Grommash allowed a grin to spread across his tusks, which seemed only to infuriate Orgrim more. “You are right, he is no Warsong,” Hellscream confirmed, “but it is either he comes with me or he remains as his mother left him in the river. You’re a hunter, Orgrim, you know the beasts would have eaten him by nightfall. Need I even mention the humans? After all the destruction the Horde has wrought, would they show an orc child mercy? I think not.”

Orgrim hissed in frustration as his hands shook like leaves. “You seek to rob a child of his heritage? Of his clan? He was born a Frostwolf and so he should be raised as one! Save your Warsong customs for your own children, Grommash Hellscream!” His voice trembled with unbridled fury, all of his control being used to abstain from socking the Warsong orc in his ugly, green jaw.

“The Frostwolves are nothing but ghosts, Doomhammer! A clan with no warriors is hardly a clan! The rest of the fel orcs killed them ALL! Who would raise this child, but you? Or maybe those that you left behind on the old world, the ones that were too weak to make it into the warband in the first place?” Grommash’s smile had disappeared. Orgrim had roused his anger with his foolery; now, he would pay the price.

“This boy has no future with you, nor the Frostwolves. He is safer with the Warsong, an entire clan to protect him, than with an orc of no clan with enemies wherever he turns! You don’t even have a way to feed the thing!”

Orgrim snarled, a string of saliva dangling from one of his canines. “I do not trust the likes of you to provide for him!”

Grommash had had enough. “If you were so bloody concerned with the well-being of this child, then perhaps you should have used that thick skull of yours and thought about it before you BETRAYED HIS FATHER AND SOLD OUT THE WHOLE CLAN TO THE REST OF THE HORDE!”

“Don’t you DARE lecture me-”

A small cry cut him off, and both heads whipped to the basket. The shouting had disturbed Go’el from his sleep, and the child whimpered in response to the noise. It didn’t take long for either adult to realize that the baby was afraid; perhaps even less time to realize that their arguing was fruitless.

“You already terrify him,” Grommash huffed, earning himself a hearty glare from Orgrim.

“Please, just... give me the child. I was a fool for believing in Gul’dan, and I should have listened, and I... I owe it to the boy’s parents. Let me raise him as Durotan and Draka intended, Grommash... let their son live the life they hoped for.”

How Orgrim loathed to beg, how he loathed it with everything that he was. But it was his only other option. He was desperate; Durotan’s son could not fall in the hands of a clan like the Warsong, or any clan that was not the clan of his birth.

Grommash bounced the basket in hopes to soothe the upset babe. He furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes in Orgrim’s direction, feeling no sympathy. “Have you such little honor left that you plead for a child? I thought you’d learned your lesson.”

There was a pause, accented only by the crackle of Durotan’s flesh, the chirping of the crickets, and the gentle coo of the child.

“I am a father.” Grommash began quietly, avoiding Orgrim’s tired gaze. “I have a son, and he has no mother to look after him. How was I to kill this infant when I found him? He is not responsible for his parents’ mistakes, and what if it had been Garrosh at the mercy of my murderer?”

Orgrim opened his mouth to speak, but words did not come out. Nothing did.

“To leave him here with a single Frostwolf male, who cannot nurse him until he can eat food or protect him as a clan should their young... it would be to condemn him to death, Orgrim. This is for his own good.”

After a period of silence, Grommash began to turn. Orgrim stared, eyes burning with emotion and pain that he wished weren’t there. Grommash was right and he absolutely despised it. He felt empty. Orgrim Doomhammer had officially lost everything he had, at the slight of his own hand.

With lightning speed, Orgrim slipped a hand into a pocket on his belt and produced a bloody tusk. “Let him keep this. It was Durotan’s.”

Grommash accepted the Frostwolf’s offering with a nod, waiting as Orgrim broke off one of Draka’s tusks to add to the palm of the chieftain’s hand. It was an understandable custom, and Grommash would not object to it. Again, he turned away.

But he didn’t walk far. The Warsong chieftain stopped and turned his head back to the mourning Frostwolf, eyes showing more emotion than Orgrim had previously thought possible. Calling out softly, he nodded to the basket balanced on his hip.

“Did Durotan get the chance to name him?”

Orgrim’s voice trembled and cracked. “Go’el. His name is Go’el.”

Grommash nodded, and turned away again. The baby orc stared up at him with wide, curious blue eyes as he chewed on his fist. A tiny sigh escaped the Warsong orc’s nostrils. A familiar sight, it was.

“If he ever asks about where he came from, then I will tell him the truth. The son of two noble orcs, that fought to the end... if there comes a time where you may show your face among the Horde once again, Orgrim Doomhammer, then perhaps you will see him again.”

With that, Grommash carried on the route he’d come to settle little Go’el in within the clan. Orgrim watched him go and struggled not to let Draka sag in his arms. Tears gathered in his eyes as he looked from Draka’s glassy golden orbs to Durotan’s burnt and nearly unrecognizable form within the dying fire. They did not deserve this. They did not deserve ANY of this.

Hefting the corpse into his arms, Orgrim draped Draka over what remained of her husband. She would have wanted to burn alongside him. They desired only to be together when they fell.

Orgrim tended the fire that night until the corpses had become ash upon the night’s breeze. It was there that he stayed, until dawn crept over the horizon.

It was there that Orgrim wept, not only for the lives of his greatest friends, but also for the future of their son.

#// please shoot me #// this made me so sad #[ out of freedom ]#[ drabble ]#[ roots ]

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

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I Contain Multitudes by Ed Yong review – we are possessed by bacteria

Each of us contains 40 trillion microbes. Their power is enormous, and we are just beginning to realise it, as this thrilling book details

We are not alone. We have never been alone. We are possessed. Our inner demons cannot be cast out, because they did not move in and take possession: they were here before us, and will live on after us. They are invisible, insidious and exist in overwhelming numbers. They manage us in myriad ways: deliver our minerals and vitamins, help digest our lunch, and provide in different ways all our cheese, yoghurt, beer, wine, bread, bacon and beef. Microbes can affect our mood, take charge of our immune system, protect us from disease, make us ill, kill us and then decompose us.

As complex, multicellular lifeforms, we are their sock puppets. We spread them, introduce variety into their brief lives and provide them with all they need to replicate and colonise new habitats. We are perambulating tower blocks, each occupied by maybe 40tn tiny tenants. Our skins are smeared with a thin film of microbial life, with ever greater numbers occupying every orifice and employed in colossal numbers in our guts.

Yet, until late in human history, we didnt know they were there at all. We still do not know who they all are, or what they do. We discover new things almost every day. In July, German microbiologists announced a new antibiotic that kills the hospital superbug MRSA. It was produced by a seemingly inconsequential microbe fighting for space in the impoverished habitat that is the human nostril. Staphylococcus lugdunensis can produce a toxin that can see off MRSA, even if it is outnumbered 10 to one.

You wont find this particular microbe in Ed Yongs marvellous, thrilling and richly annotated book, but dont worry. Unless you are a microbiologist, almost all of it will be new to you. I call it marvellous: everything about the microbial world is to be marvelled at. And it is a page-turner in a very old-fashioned sense. All life is here, and death too, and sex and violence, including deviations of which you had never dreamed.

Wolbachia is a genus first discovered in 1924, inside a mosquito. Actually, it is in almost everything. Most of the planets animal species are arthropods spiders, flies, scorpions, mites, woodlice and so on and Wolbachia infects at least two in every five. It manipulates their sex lives: it kills male wasps, and the females replicate by cloning themselves. It selectively kills the male embryos of blue moon butterflies of Fiji and Samoa, so that females outnumber males by 100 to one. It changes insect sperm so that males can only effectively fertilise eggs that are also infected with the same strain of Wolbachia, and all of this happens because the microbe makes the journey through the generations via the ovaries and in the eggs. It is a feminist force. It has an astonishing arsenal of strategies for survival, and executes them brilliantly.

All this helps put the rest of us in our place. These things are tiny. They exist as just one cell, each vastly smaller than almost any single human cell. They have no brain or nervous system, but they exist in monstrous numbers every hour you sneeze, cough, splutter or just breathe an estimated 37bn into the air around you and untold variety. Collectively they are cleverer than us; they both compete and cooperate. The rest of us spread our variant genes by replicating: change happens with a new generation. Microbes can swap those handy mutations that deliver advantage in stressful circumstances with their neighbours: change happens on the spot, and this egalitarian, cooperative talent, called horizontal gene transfer, swiftly delivers microbial strains that can learn to resist whatever antibiotics we throw at them. Microbes have been around, and have learned a thing or two.

Complex life has a 500m-year evolutionary history: microbial life is at least 3.5bn years old. We are their offspring. We share our genes with them, we incorporate their DNA. To a microbiologist, all plants, birds, mammals, insects, molluscs, reptiles, fish and amphibians are just the last few twigs of one tip of the eukaryote branch of the microbial imperium. And although microbial life extends kilometres below the ocean basalt, rides on the dust and water vapour high in the transatlantic clouds, and makes a living in thermal springs, mine dumps, alkaline lakes and even radioactive waste, Yongs book addresses only the microbiome, our name for those microbes that live parasitically on, or in symbiosis with, or just manipulate, animals.

We meet Vibrium fischeri, which occupies the Hawaiian bobtail squid, turning on the luminescence machinery that cancels its shadow and makes it invisible to submarine predators. A bacterium called Tremblaya colonised the citrus mealybug, and then discarded the genetic material it no longer needed as a mealybug freeloader; another bacterium called Moranella colonised Tremblaya. There are now three parties in the symbiosis, between them contributing the nine enzymes necessary to create one amino acid. None of the three could survive without the other two.

Gut bacteria in the desert woodrat in the US south-west help the animal eat and dispose of the toxins in the creosote bush that would kill any other mammal. The rat, of course, is rewarding the microbe too: both benefit.

The story gets even more subtle when it comes to mothers milk. Human breast milk contains lactose, fat and more than 200 complex sugars called oligosaccharides. Human infants, however, can digest none of these. One single-celled creature called Bifidobacterium longum infantis gobbles up the lot. It is reportedly the dominant microbe in the bowels of breast-fed babies, and as it digests the sugars, it releases short-chain fatty acids, which then feed the infant gut cells. So the nursing mother feeds the microbe which then feeds the baby. No other mammal makes as many oligosaccharides as humans, or in such quantity. It may be that we can thank B. infantis for our large brains, or perhaps the spurt of growth in the first year of human life.

If you were looking for an instance of good bacteria and this tricky conceit is intelligently addressed in this book B. infantis sounds like a candidate. Like coprophagy and faecal transplant, also discussed in the book at length and with some glee, the notions of good and bad are deceptive. Our microbes just are, and do, and somehow we benefit each other, except when we dont.

Unlike ruminating cattle or the great grazing herds of the Serengeti, Yong says, humans could just about scrape by without their bacterial companions, but it is clear that our lives would be the shorter without them. We have an inner life, in every sense, and are the richer for it: richer still for this witty and compelling book.

To order I Contain Multitudes for 16.40 (Bodley Head, RRP 20) go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/i-contain-multitudes-by-ed-yong-review-we-are-possessed-by-bacteria/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/12/i-contain-multitudes-by-ed-yong-review-we-are-possessed-by-bacteria/

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allofbeercom · 7 years

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I Contain Multitudes by Ed Yong review – we are possessed by bacteria

Each of us contains 40 trillion microbes. Their power is enormous, and we are just beginning to realise it, as this thrilling book details

To order I Contain Multitudes for 16.40 (Bodley Head, RRP 20) go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/i-contain-multitudes-by-ed-yong-review-we-are-possessed-by-bacteria/

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jimdsmith34 · 7 years

Text

I Contain Multitudes by Ed Yong review – we are possessed by bacteria

Each of us contains 40 trillion microbes. Their power is enormous, and we are just beginning to realise it, as this thrilling book details

To order I Contain Multitudes for 16.40 (Bodley Head, RRP 20) go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99.

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/12/i-contain-multitudes-by-ed-yong-review-we-are-possessed-by-bacteria/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/12/i-contain-multitudes-by-ed-yong-review.html

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