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tsuki-sennin · 2 years ago

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After unexpectedly being sold out by Lord Kaguragi of Toufu just as quickly as he was protected by him, King of Evil Gira is put on trial for his criminal acts. With his life on the line, Gira stands nervously in the international criminal court in the tundra kingdom of Gokkan's capital city of Zaiban. In spite of its reputation of law and order, Gokkan's massive population is predominantly incarcerated thanks to the hardline stances of its Sovereign and Chief Justice, Rita Kaniska. Can Himeno and Yanma discover a way to defend Gira against Kaguragi and Racules's machinations? Or may Rita's icy heart prove to undo the justice they hold so dear? So we must discover today...

In short, Spoilers, I guess...

-Wow Gira, you... seem really into getting arrested by this extremely powerful and gorgeous person.

-...I mean, I would too, but-

-I see Racules's Radical Royal Retainer... Douga, I think his name is, he don't like the bee boy.

-...I notice I tend to kinda skim over the Bugnarok in my narrations. That's not intentional at all, but I'm just really fascinated by this Fire Emblem-ass court drama we've got going here.

-To be clear, I mean court drama as in royal court drama, not courtroom kind.

-Oooooooh, Scorpion!

-...Ironically, I don't think they can live in snow capped places like this.

-"Snowball this bitch."

-Oh hell nah, they put my boy on ice.

Rita: "International terrorism is a crime... punishable by execution. Pray that you are found innocent." Gira: "Kyaahahahah~! You kna.... Y'know, in Hell, they f-f-ffffffreeeeeeze traitors alive in the depths of Cocytus! Hah... suppose this is a mere prelude to my fate... for betraying Racules!" Rita: "Racules has no jurisdiction over you here. You're mine to deal with." Gira: "OH GOD OH FUCK, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I'M A GOOD LITTLE BEETLE BOY, I PROMISE!"

-Ah yep. There they go. Questioning their permafrost justice.

-Oh shit, this is early.

-Ooooooh, goddamn Rita.

-I love you very much.

-Pop it On~!

-Oh their eyes...

-Man, these wind effects and snow effects are so cool.

-Wasting not even a second.

-Oh my God, they kick!

-Our prison at the end of the world. Big Daddy Alcatraz.

-No opening this week, huh?

-RITA HATES SCALPERS BASED

-SIX MONTHS IN THE DEEP FREEZE WITH YOU FUCKO

-The Judge retreats to their chambers.

-YETI

-SO CHUNKY

-MOFFUN

-God Rita

-They're so iconic, I love them so much.

-"Oh yes... Morphonia! Fetch me the King's Weapon. It's Rita Time."

-Getting massive Edgeworth vibes off of you, bucko.

-Ooooooh, seems like somebody's playing the mole.

-"Idk homie, seems like he just... made Kuwagon help him. That's not just something a bug does with simple coercion, you know?"

-SCREM

-"Who meeeee? Nooooo, noooo! You got it all wrong! Teehee~!"

-...and of course, the most biased source of information you could possibly find...

-"Kill him."

-"No."

-"Oh that's okay. I'll be sure to kill you too then!"

-OOOH POP OFF, YOUR HONOR

-"Sorry. I wanted to spare this innocent mosquito from drinking that liquid nitrogen you call blood."

-Rita Kaniska is the character of all time.

-Shaddap Scalper.

-...speaking of scalping, how DARE you touch this man's beautiful hair?

-"Can't gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss your way out of this one, boy."

-"Don't blame me, this is all on Rita~!"

-Hot damn, Gira.

-SCREM

-Here they come. All sauntering in like it ain't no big.

-Is this

-Is this fucking courtroom just a bunch of ski lift chairs

-That's fucking incredible, I love this.

-Racules.

-Oooooh

-Yassss

-Court is now in session for the trial of Gira of Shugoddam, King of Evil. All Rise for the honorable Chief Justice Rita, Sovereign of Gokkan.

-"WAIT PLEASE I DON'T EVEN HAVE A LAWYER-"

-Oh! Okay, we're free!

-"Waiiit... Wait wait wait wait, this is NOT how this trial should've gone!"

-I see we're doing this in reverse. Technical expertise, character witnesses, evidence... all laid out after a conclusion.

-RAINBOW JURURIRA

-IT WAS IMPORTANT AFTER ALL

-OKAY

-I suspected that Gira had some claim to the throne, but like

-I quite didn't expect him to be Racules's brother, but like... Goddamn.

-Gira and Racules kinda remind me of the depictions of... Richard the Lionheart and Prince John, especially in the really old Robin Hood stories.

-I just kinda figured it'd be a Hamlet and Claudius deal, but we've got a true Cain and Abel story right here.

-Well, I guess it stands to reason

-You never have a Rhino Beetle and a Stag Beetle together in a show like this without having them be related, now do we?

-Gira Hastee, huh?

-All around the room, Gira examined the faces of everyone involved in the trial as Rita laid bare their findings. Yanma, Shiokara, and Kuroko's looks of surprise conveyed a wide range of emotions, and yet Kaguragi and Himeno seemed to be not the least bit fazed. As Douga and Boshimar exhanged glares, Gira felt something inside him stir. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Perhaps to be more accurate, it was a wide range of despairful feelings: ironically it could be considered just as flavorful as the rainbow jururira, but it only left him an aftertaste as vile as rotten fruit and stagnant as the lukewarm water mosquitos lay their eggs in. Anger, sorrow, shock, dread, confusion... and yet most of all in that moment, Gira felt... a sense of betrayal. It was exactly the same sickening feeling he felt when Racules dismissed the lives of the people he was supposed to care for as ruler of Shogoddam, the same Yanma and the other rulers probably felt when Racules left them out to die at the hands of the Bugnarak. Gira had been betrayed on a level far beyond he could even imagine. And yet... Rita, by all accounts a complete stranger he'd have nothing to do with otherwise, someone who had every right to have completely dismissed him outright... They worked with those friends he made to discover the depths of his case.

-And that slowly but certainly helped his hope climb back up from the depths.

-Holy shit, man.

-Did Kaguragi plan all this?

-Not a single crime to begin with!

-Let justice be done, though the heavens fall!

-Where do you think you're going, buddy?

-Here they come! The bad buggos!

-Here they come.

-The Quintet Alliance! In its true form!

-"Stand up and fight, boy. There's no reason you can't or won't."

-"Okay, cool and all, but like... this dress isn't a snowsuit, can we make this fast?"

-"I thought I got kicked out, but okay."

-"Man, I totally saw this coming!"

-Tone Boy! Come and Kick It! Pop it On! Hatch It! Qua God!

-OHGAI

-OKAY ROB THE BOY OF HIS THUNDER, VERY NICE RITA

-Ohgai Busou!

-You are the King~!

-The bugs! Fully assembled!

-Ooooooh, man.

-Love these sets, holy hell.

-Man, these sweeping shots are so cool

-Beeg

-"King Ohger! ...that'd make a decent team name now that I think about it..."

-Oooooh, theme time!

-"Hmm?"

-Oh man, this is good for the soul.

-God Kabuto!

-You shot them!

-You jerks!

-It's a truly sad day when your level of teamwork can be compared negatively to the Donbrothers /hj

-God Damn.

-Well! We did it, somehow!

-"You fuckface!"

-Ohhhhhh

-This ain't good.

-One down~!

-OHHHHHH RACLES GONNA THROW DOWN????

#Rejoice O Swarming Evil! You're My King!#ohsama sentai king ohger #ohsama sentai kingohger #kingohger spoilers #kingohger #king ohger #king ohger spoilers #super sentai

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oppvenuz4456 · 4 months ago

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The Best Bartenders for Weddings in Mumbai: Elevating Your Celebration

Mumbai, the city of dreams, is known for its grand weddings, where every detail is meticulously planned to create unforgettable experiences. Among the many elements that make a wedding celebration memorable, the bar service plays a pivotal role in setting the tone of the event. A skilled bartender not only serves drinks but also adds flair and creativity to the entire experience, making the bar a lively and entertaining spot at the wedding. In this article, we explore some of the best bartenders in Mumbai who can elevate your wedding with their expertise and charisma.

For more Details visit our site https://www.oppvenuz.com/vendors/bartenders/?city=mumbai

The Role of Bartenders in Wedding Celebrations

Bartenders are much more than just servers of drinks at a wedding; they are entertainers, mixologists, and often, the life of the party. A good bartender can craft bespoke cocktails that match the theme and mood of the wedding, engage with guests to ensure they have a great time, and manage the bar efficiently, ensuring that service is smooth and seamless.

The best bartenders bring a blend of creativity and professionalism to the table, offering customized cocktail menus, innovative drink presentations, and exceptional service that leaves a lasting impression on your guests.

Top Bartenders for Weddings in Mumbai

Here’s a look at some of the top bartenders in Mumbai who specialize in making wedding celebrations extraordinary:

Cocktails & Dreams: Known for their exceptional mixology skills and creativity, Cocktails & Dreams is a popular choice for luxury weddings in Mumbai. They offer personalized cocktail menus, theatrical flair bartending, and even customized bar setups that align with the wedding theme. Their team of skilled bartenders can create classic and contemporary cocktails, ensuring there’s something for every guest.

Drinq Barmen & Academy: Drinq is not just a bar service; it’s an academy that trains some of the best bartenders in the country. Their bartenders are known for their professionalism, creativity, and ability to handle large-scale events with ease. Drinq offers a wide range of services, including signature cocktails, molecular mixology, and themed bar setups. Their attention to detail and commitment to quality make them a favorite among Mumbai’s elite.

Barwings: Barwings is a well-established name in the Mumbai bartending scene, known for their innovative approach to cocktails and exceptional service. They offer bespoke bar services tailored to the client’s preferences, with a focus on creating unique drink experiences. Whether you want a vintage-style bar or a modern, chic setup, Barwings can deliver with style and elegance.

Spiritzz Bar Solutions: Spiritzz Bar Solutions is known for their versatility and ability to cater to diverse wedding styles. Their bartenders are not only skilled in mixology but also in interacting with guests, ensuring everyone has a great time. From classic cocktails to trendy concoctions, Spiritzz offers a wide range of options to suit your wedding’s theme and mood.

The Wedding Bartenders: Specializing in wedding bar services, The Wedding Bartenders are experts in creating a lively and engaging atmosphere at the bar. They offer customized cocktail menus, flair bartending, and even bartending workshops for guests who want to try their hand at mixing drinks. Their bartenders are known for their friendly demeanor and ability to keep the energy high throughout the event.

Trends in Wedding Bartending

The wedding bartending scene in Mumbai is constantly evolving, with new trends emerging every season. Here are some of the latest trends that top bartenders are incorporating into weddings:

Molecular Mixology: Bartenders are using techniques like spherification, foams, and liquid nitrogen to create visually stunning and innovative cocktails that surprise and delight guests.

Signature Cocktails: Personalized cocktails that reflect the couple’s tastes and preferences are becoming increasingly popular. Bartenders work with the couple to create unique drinks that add a personal touch to the celebration.

Interactive Bar Stations: Interactive elements like DIY cocktail stations, where guests can mix their own drinks, are a big hit. This adds an element of fun and engagement to the bar experience.

Sustainable Bar Practices: With an increasing focus on sustainability, bartenders are adopting eco-friendly practices such as using locally sourced ingredients, minimizing waste, and serving drinks in reusable or biodegradable glasses.

Themed Bars: Bartenders are creating themed bars that align with the wedding’s overall aesthetic. From vintage speakeasies to tropical tiki bars, themed setups add a unique visual element to the celebration.

How to Choose the Right Bartender for Your Wedding

Selecting the right bartender is crucial to ensuring your wedding bar is a success. Here are some tips to help you make the right choice:

Experience and Expertise: Look for bartenders who have experience in handling weddings similar to yours. Their expertise in managing large crowds and delivering consistent service is essential.

Portfolio Review: Ask to see a portfolio of their work, including past wedding setups, cocktail menus, and any unique services they offer. This will give you an idea of their style and creativity.

References and Reviews: Client testimonials and reviews can provide valuable insight into the bartender’s reliability, professionalism, and ability to deliver on promises.

Customization Options: Ensure that the bartender is open to customizing the cocktail menu and bar setup according to your preferences. Personalized service can make your wedding more memorable.

Budget: Discuss your budget upfront and make sure the bartender can work within your financial constraints. It’s also important to get a detailed quote to avoid any surprises later.

Conclusion

In a city like Mumbai, where weddings are celebrated with grandeur, having the right bartender can make all the difference. The best bartenders not only serve drinks but create experiences that leave a lasting impression on your guests. Whether you’re looking for classic elegance or modern innovation, Mumbai’s top bartenders have the skills and creativity to elevate your wedding celebration. When choosing a bartender, consider their experience, creativity, and ability to customize their services to ensure your big day is as special as you’ve always dreamed.

#wedding banquets #bartender #mumbai #bollywood #salman khan

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 10

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. Mild smut in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Tony fluff, Tony snark, Tony sass and Tony smut (finally!). My & reader's brain be like: tony tony tony tony. A request for my readers: do I write a believeable tony? Is he in character, more or less?

My beta @miscmarvelwritings - she's not into Tony but even then, she was finally excited about them finally getting down & dirty. The patience of this woman...

"Tony, could I borrow, like, a hoodie or something?"

He eyed my attire critically for a moment, seemingly coming to the same conclusion I did minutes earlier, and made a beeline for the couch in the back of the lab. Picking up and examining a black mass of fabric, deeming it satisfactory, he tossed it to me. "It's clean enough, I guess."

The thin straps of my mesh top rubbed against a lot of tender skin, leaving pink lines in the wake of it. A sigh of relief escaped me involuntarily when I removed it -

"Woah, woah," Tony squeaked, covering his eyes with an exaggerated gesture. "Warn a man!"

I honestly didn't see what the big deal was. "Tony, chill. I'm pretty sure you've seen it all and then some." I snorted, stretching briefly, shrugging on the slightly oversized hoodie. It smelled like the lab - like Tony, too, but mostly like motor oil and iron. Beggars can't be choosers, however - I had already devised and executed the plan that will let me keep the hoodie.

"When you put it that way..." He smirked, briefly returning to his usual self and giving me a salacious eyebrow wiggle.

I laughed in response, wiggling my hips, feeling the hem of my skirt swish against my thighs. I considered removing the fishnet tights, too, but a brief look in the reflective wall divide between Tony's and Bruce's labs got me pulling out my phone to take two dozen selfies. I looked great with Tony's clothes on.

The engineer chuckled at my antics, coming up behind me as I sat on the floor with my knee raised, chin resting on it. The amber liquid sloshed over the top of his glass, dripping down his fingers. He sat behind me.

"Weller Full Bourbon?" I asked, bringing my nose closer to his fingers to get a good whiff. The distinctive vanilla notes in his whiskey were unmistakable. "Good choice," I made a serious face. "Fancy."

"I can afford it, darling," He snarked back, devoid of malice.

He was so close. And so warm. And I needed a new screensaver. Shuffling back, I reclined against Tony's chest, carefully wedging my head in the crook of his neck.

God help me.

I felt his breath hitch. The dark, magnetic pools of his eyes stared at me from our combined reflection. Tony's eyes were the most expressive, he could fake a smile, he could charm the press and countless investors, but his eyes only spoke the truth. Always. I loved working with Tony because his gaze would light up. It was akin to seeing a little kid on Christmas.

A muscular arm snaked around my waist, pressing my back to his chest. The metal of his arc reactor jabbed uncomfortably between my shoulder blades but there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

"You're filming, Princess," He interrupted my Moment.

"Sure," I answered, not caring. There could be another alien invasion happening and I wasn't able to give a damn.

I felt the vibrant chuckle more than heard; Tony snatched the phone out of my hand without permission. I noticed the furrowed brow when he opened my Instagram and saw the unmistakable evidence of my frequent partying, yet he didn't comment on it.

"Tony, the press is going to go nuts," I raised my eyebrows, seeing what he was planning to do.

"They've seen me doing worse things," He scoffed. And took a photo of us ‘just chilling’ in his lab, hugging. He picked out a filter and everything., and then posted it.

"First of all, I am pretty awesome to be 'doing', I've had only good feedback," I scoffed at his dismissive attitude, using my free hand to make quote marks. Then I turned my head to stare him square in the face. "Steve's going to be pissed and Ms. Potts is going to call to yell at you." I punctuated the statements with a raised eyebrow.

There was really no innocent way the press could represent the photo that he posted. I didn't care for it, my parents wouldn't give a damn (my father probably would encourage it, the free publicity and all). Tony himself didn't seem like the kind of man to care much about some gossip articles, if anything, he enjoyed provoking them into a frenzy. Or at least, he used to.

"I'll put them both on hold. I like to watch the line blink," Tony winked, smirking. "I've been told the press expects me to have a midlife crisis since my last breakup," Eyes darkening, the man swiftly finished off his drink.

Midlife crisis seemed such a bitter way of putting it. Considering my own preferences in romantic partners, I couldn't help but feel offended at the way people offhandedly dished out labels - "midlife crisis", "daddy issues" and so on and so forth. The briefest part of me traveled back to Mr. Davies' living room where - no, I am not going there.

"Huh," I said, coming to a conclusion. A sad one at that.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Princess, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who thinks about pesky things like reputation or consequences," Tony mused idly, coming to a conclusion of his own.

"Nope, I don't give a fuck," I agreed with his opinion wholeheartedly. "If I would have a publicist, they would quit on the second day."

"I pay mine, uh, twice the average amount and they still quit. We're doomed, baby," Tony's gleeful face was mere inches away from my own, whiskey-tipsy and glowing.

I snorted, sliding lower to further burrow into his arms. Tony's sudden touchy-feely mode wasn't lost on me. My own touch starvation overrode any common sense that I had left. The totally-PG (well, not quite) embrace, one armed hug brought me more satisfaction than any of my sexual partners had ever achieved to give me.

"Why are there so many messages from Banner? Are you staging a world domination plan and forgot to include me? I'm hurt!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, a whiny tone to his voice.

"Thor's space yeasts have corrupted our minds with their spores. Soon all will become... Mushroom!" I deepened my voice for the dramatic effect, flailing my arms on the last word for the extra flair.

The man wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye; his eyes were sparkling, laughing even. "I'm evicting Thor and his supremely selfish yeast. How dare it ignore me."

"I vouched for you, I really did," I kept up the silly game. "But alas, the yeasts deemed you too... Boomer," The pride in my voice could barely hold back the laughter threatening to spill.

"Did you just..?" Tony gaped. "Did you just call me old?!"

I attempted to get away, shrieking when the tips of Tony's fingers squirmed along my midsection. "It was the yeast! IT WAS THE YEAST!" My resistance proved to be futile. The engineer had mass and strength on his side, years of piloting and maneuvering the Iron Man suits showing just how quick and nimble he could be when the situation demanded it.

"Take that from an old man!" He exclaimed triumphantly, using his arm to hold down both of my hands from grasping at him. One of his legs held down my own; we were a squirming, writhing mass of limbs in the heat of a tickle fight.

The cocaine in my blood, the mild buzz from being drunk on Tony - my body reacted to the close proximity of the man who occupied my fantasies. I was blushing, breathing heavily, and it wasn't just from the exertion. It should have affected me less, but I struggled to keep my eyes from Tony's face; his own flush, the moist part of his lips.

I wondered how a deer in the headlights felt. Was it hot, like it's body was suddenly alight, or was it cold, liquid nitrogen freezing in its veins?

"Fuck," I mumbled half-coherently.

"What was that?" He arched an eyebrow, clever eyes carefully watching my own.

"I'm in trouble," I chuckled weakly, looking away, pretending to struggle against his arms.

"You're trouble," He announced, grinning. His fingertips slowed, skimming gently along my sides now.

I retaliated with a tentative brush of my foot along the softness of his jean-covered inner thigh. It was euphoric, seeing Tony shudder, the thick eyelashes fluttering for the briefest part of a second.

"We should stop," He whispered suddenly, making a move to disentangle us both. Mixed signals, we've got em, ladies and gentlemen.

"Why?" I was tired of this dance. It was fun but painful. My firm decision of the past still stood: I won't be the lovesick fangirl, I won't be another notch in his bedpost. The resolve was crumbling but it was still there, to some point.

"You're not sober, this is wrong," He mumbled. "I'm more than twice your age, Princess."

That ship had sailed, Tony. If only you knew... "Do you seriously expect me, out of all people, to find common ground with someone my age? Someone like Peter? Jeez," I tried to be amused. If it came out more pleading, I pretended to not notice it. It was the moment of truth. It needed to be said. "I'm FUBAR, Tony. I'm lucky if anyone at all will want to put up with me, much less someone I can stand. I'm spoiled, I'm selfish, and annoying. I know that. I just thought we were friends and you'd be...kinder about it." My mumbling was met with a somewhat perplexed stare.

"I..." His eyebrows threatened to have a close encounter with his hairline. "What the fuck? Are you dead set on giving me a stroke today? I have a heart condition," He yanked me back towards his chest, unceremonious and indignant. "You can be so smart yet so stupid. Gosh, where is the world rolling, I'm quoting Pepper now." He seemed to be muttering to himself.

"Pot, kettle." I didn't resist the urge to snark.

"Right," Tony rolled his eyes. "You're beautiful and all that jazz. You deserve much more than this." Uncharacteristically sad, he pointed to himself, again. "I'm an old man with more issues than Playboy magazine."

"And I'm an angsty teenager with daddy issues, we're a match made in heaven."

"Hell," Tony was eyeing our combined reflection with a sort of petulance. It was hard keeping track of his microexpressions; his eyes and face held fleeting, half-finished thoughts, just like when he was creating, inventing something new.

"Works for me. Lucifer's hot," I answered with my brain on autopilot. He caught my eyes in the shiny glass, trapping me in his calculative gaze.

"The Netflix one or the Supernatural one?" Tony asked, equally absent from the conversation. Neither of us were able to break eye contact, breathing laboured and hearts thudding in our chests. I felt Tony's pulse fluttering under my palm where I'd rested it on his wrist.

The organ that dutifully pumped blood through my own veins and kept me alive threatened to escape my body, jump out of my chest, make its way out my mouth. Tony's unblinking stare penetrated my skin, seeped into the hollow behind my eyelids, ignited a flame within me and froze my thoughts.

"The one with the detective kink," I answered breathily. "I have an affinity for brown-eyed, narcissistic, sarcastic men with self-destructive tendencies," The last part of my sentence was swallowed by Tony's lips.

My brain shorted out, just like that. Bourbon on his breath and a new dose of snark on his tongue, he licked into my mouth with the grace and finesse of years of experience. It was sudden, it was rough, it was fantastic. His beard left marks on my face and I craved the burn of it.

"Fuck," I moaned when we were forced to surface for oxygen. My hips had moved, pressed against his own, prominent arousal digging into the small of my back. Tony had me moaning and grinding into it in mere seconds.

A hand rested on my face with surprising tenderness, turning my face to look at my own reflection. My hair was a mess, lips puffy - Tony wasn't looking any better, hunger and lust in plain view. It was a good look on him.

"Watch," His breath ghosted over the shell of my ear, lips traveling to the nape of my neck to attach themselves to the very sensitive flesh of that area.

I obeyed, gazing at the scene with lidded eyes. Keeping them open was a struggle. My body was flooded with sensation, riding the waves of pleasure like a rollercoaster. I wanted to please him, needed to obey him, to feel him.

My thighs quivered at Tony's touch. There was no warning, no preamble as he wedged a firm hand, separating them quickly to follow the heat. His biceps flexed deliciously. Under my skirt, through the fishnets and the tiny, lacy panties I wore.

"Fucking shit," The man moaned loudly, finding me, predictably, soaking wet. It was one hot, sticky mess between my legs.

The keen that left my mouth might've been embarrassing, yet it only spurred Tony on. Gently parting my lower lips, he gathered the moisture, suddenly withdrawing from me. My confusion met his amusement in the mirror as he stuck the two fingers in his mouth, moaning obscenely and loudly at the taste.

The corners of my mouth lifted, happy. "To-ony," I whined, my pussy aching for more. Now that I had felt the relief and pleasure of his touch, I didn't want it to end.

"Princess," He replied, seriously and sternly. I shuddered at the scratchiness of his voice. The hand that I was missing returned, stroking over the outside of my pussy with broad, soft motions. I arched, presented myself into the touch. "So eager," Tony mumbled into my shoulder, catching a bit of my skin between his teeth.

His fingers dipped deeper, delving in between the puffy, engorged flesh and stroking once, twice, before finding my clit. The pads of Tony's fingers were rough, hardened by manual work and hours spent in front of his inventions, making, tinkering, creating. The friction was perfect. I followed each stroke with a fluid motion of my hips.

"Tony, fuck," I slurred my approval, needing him to know how amazing he made me feel. Tony's form pressed closer, both of us melting, molding into each other.

"Baby girl, what do you need?" His raspy voice tickled my neck. I was sure there would be an array of marks decorating me come morning and absolutely loved the thought. I belonged to Tony Stark, in body and heart and mind and soul.

"I want to cum," I had no shame left. "I want to feel you."

He groaned, rutting into me. A squeak was all I managed to emit as two thick fingers plunged inside of me with a wet squelch. My pussy immediately took hold of the situation, squeezing and rippling around them. I was so close, my nerves pulled up taut like an overtaxed string. The effect this man had on me was positively unholy.

My clit throbbed under his thumb. Tony somehow managed to reach every single sweet spot on my body, effortlessly, easily, like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Ohmyfuckinggod, Tony," I came hard, shuddering, drenching the fingers inside of me. The moment I began sagging in his arms was the moment they tightened around me; I felt Tony grind helplessly against me, saw his own eyes slam shut and his brow furrow.

The hand that was in me withdrew rapidly as he hastily popped the button on his pants, freeing his cock and giving it several desperate tugs. I couldn't see it; I had to settle for the sensation of his hand, his hips rubbing against my clothed back.

He came quickly, with a loud shout. My curiosity got the best of me and I used the brief moment of his weakness to turn around, take a good look at him.

Tony was a fucking mess with a fucking gorgeous cock. Thick and veiny.

My face was level with it before he could have opened his eyes. I wanted, craved to know how he tasted. With gentle kitten licks, I collected the stray drops of cum running down his hand, careful of the rapidly softening, sensitive flesh.

His eyes popped open in surprise. I smiled at him, unseeing, collecting as much of him as I could.

"Fuck, Princess," He breathed. "I'm just a man, I'm pushing fifty," Gently pulling my head away but holding it mere inches from his cock. Indecisive.

I reached over for his hand with my own, popping finger after finger in my mouth, collecting every drop of cum like it was nectar. I could be good...I If properly motivated. The salty musk was all the motivation I needed at that moment. He pulled me in for a filthy, sloppy kiss once I was done, both of us humming, vocalising the shared pleasure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @as-i-layhereinyourbed @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney

As always, feedback is welcome and this blog is keyboard smash & emoji friendly.

#tony stark smut #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x you #bun writes #party favours #TONY NEVER SHUTS UP YO

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years ago

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philia

n. a love between friends; based on mutual respect, common values, shared desires, and unwavering trust

Words: 2.5k Relationship: Sasha James & Tim Stoker, past Sasha James/Tim Stoker Tags: Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Aromantic Sasha James, Lovers to Friends, Awkward Conversations Warnings: internalized arophobia (throughout), fear of arophobia from another character (doesn’t actually occur)

|| Ao3 ||

If one thing could be said about Sasha James, it’s this: she doesn’t scare easy. All the traditional spooks—spiders and the dark and heights and everything in between—don’t send her heart racing like they did some of her childhood friends, and when she was old enough to go to the library by herself, she slowly and methodically worked her way through the meager horror section at her disposal. She liked the way that the fear tasted, metallic in her mouth and sending gooseflesh tingling across her arms and lips, and even when she landed on a book or a movie that pushed her beyond her limits for terror, she found that she couldn’t look away, too immersed in the way that her hands shook as she turned the page.

Maybe that’s why she ended up at the Magnus Institute. When the horror began to feel stale, each story contrived beyond the point of enjoyment, where better to turn to than somewhere that collected horrors that were real?

Sasha lasted three months in Artifact Storage before she decided that she’d finally found her limit, and it was gold monocles that turned your sight inward and stainless steel knives that leaked briny blood and a chalkboard eraser that could peel the skin clean off your face with a single stroke. Her brand of horror lay in stories, not in things, she decided then. In stories, at least, the fear was contained.

The problem, though, is that it’s easy to not be afraid of stories. Even if they’re real ones, told by real people, they’re still just stories, and so Sasha can separate herself from them, lock them away in the Institute at night and return to the more mundane horrors of her television screen or her bookshelf. It’s much, much harder to not be afraid of the things she can’t escape.

Sasha James doesn’t scare easy. But when she walks into the Institute on Monday morning and sees Timothy Stoker sitting at his desk, positioned opposite to hers and in the perfect location for mid-day glances and snippets of conversation, her heart jumps into her throat so fast she thinks she might choke on it.

Sasha puts on her headphones, sits down at her desk, and doesn’t let her eyes stray from her computer screen for the rest of the day.

And the next.

Fear is a funny thing, she thinks as she stands in the shower that Friday night, letting the water drum against the back of her skull and trying to figure out why even after fifteen minutes of standing in the scalding spray, her skin still itches with unseen dirt that she can’t quite rid herself of. It can spur people to go to lengths they never thought imaginable. Like Gregory Chavez, who found he could run nearly two miles at a dead sprint when chased by a thing that had once been his son but that now craved nothing but blood and terror. Or Biah Wynn, who found it within herself to burn her family home to the ground with her brother still inside when a sharp-tongued thing from her dreams told her to.

Or Sasha James, who’s been avoiding her best friend for a week because she had sex with him and now can’t bring herself to admit that it was a mistake. Or, more accurately, to admit why it was a mistake.

Tim probably hates me now, she thinks as she tips her head back and lets the water run over her eyelids, holding her breath as it trickles over her closed lips and hits her arms where they’re crossed over her chest in a protective gesture. And he’d be right to. I kind of hate me now.

Sasha turns the shower off, laments for a moment the state of her water bill for that month, and readies herself for bed.

She allows herself to continue this way for two more days before the voice in her head manages to convince her that don’t ruin a good thing is becoming more and more of an impossibility the longer she ignores the inevitably awkward conversation that they need to have. Her resolve finally breaks through the sharp static of fear Monday evening, when Tim pushes back from his desk and Sasha says, breaking the silence with all the grace of a battering ram, “Fancy a cuppa?”

Timothy Stoker doesn’t startle easy. At the sound of Sasha’s voice, however, he jumps so badly that the file folder he’d been preparing to stow away slips from his hands, spilling loose pages on the ivory tile floor in a mess of white paper and black ink.

“Jesus,” Tim says, bending down to collect the papers. His eyes are cast firmly on the ground when he says, voice tight, “A little warning next time before you decide to break a week-long vow of silence?”

Sasha’s wince is full-body. “Sorry,” she says, trying and failing to impart a week’s worth of apologies into a single word. Then, with forced levity: “Permission to speak again?”

Tim’s quiet for a little too long. He’s collected all the papers and they sit limply in his hands as his eyes trace the lines between the tiles, lips curled down into a pained expression that Sasha hates, though she knows it’s nobody’s fault but her own. Then, quietly, he says, “I don’t know, Sasha. Maybe a week ago, the answer would have been yes? But I… I don’t know if I feel like talking now.”

Thorns of Sasha’s own design dig into her heart and claw up her throat, and she fixes her eyes on the surface of her desk. It’s full of yellow post-it notes she doesn’t remember writing and approximately twenty stray pens and pencils and a million other things that are far, far less important than the man still squatting on the floor next to her, pretending to organize the papers in his hand.

“Okay,” she says, and the word bites into her tongue with razor-sharp teeth. Then, even though she said she wouldn’t, she says, “I’m sorry, Tim. And I want to explain, if you’d let me.”

Please let me.

Tim looks at her, just once, and the hurt in his eyes cuts into Sasha like broken glass. “I… I just need some time,” he says, like Sasha hasn’t given him too much of that already, like she hasn’t already had the thought of I just need more time, more time to figure this out running through her head for days.

“Okay,” she repeats. The smile she musters up feels hollow, too full of hope to hold up to scrutiny.

“Okay,” Tim says.

Tim leaves. And Sasha works late, if only to give her mind something to do that isn’t wallowing in guilt and self-pity.

She works late Tuesday, too. And Wednesday and Thursday. Then, as her computer blinks 17:00 on Friday and she flips open another file, she hears from behind her a quietly amused, “You’re turning into Jon, you know.”

If asked later, Sasha will maintain that she didn’t startle at the sound of Tim’s voice. The file, at least, stays firmly clasped in her hand, though she sets it down before turning in her chair to see Tim standing a few feet away, jacket slung over one arm and hesitance written all over his face even as his mouth forms a teasing smile.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Sasha says, aiming for levity and coming close enough for it to count. “I don’t have nearly enough grey in my hair for that yet. Besides, you know I can’t pull off a sweater vest.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.”

Sasha smiles fully, letting tendrils of humor pull the corners of her mouth up toward her eyes, and the lines of tension in Tim’s face begin to smooth. The hesitance is still there, the hurt lying just beneath, but it feels a lot less like a wall and a lot more like a locked door. She just hopes that Tim still trusts her enough to give her the key.

“Fancy a cuppa?” he says.

They pick a little tea shop a few blocks away from the Institute, open later than the rest and with prices that only make Sasha wince a little bit as she orders a cup of jasmine green tea and then sits at a little corner table across from Tim, away from the hum of the rest of the café. He wraps his hands around his mug of Darjeeling, looks at Sasha, and says, “Is this the part where you say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?”

Sasha winces and takes a long sip of her too-hot tea to cover it up. When she pulls back, the roof of her mouth thoroughly scalded, she says, “In… a manner of speaking.”

It’s Tim’s turn to wince, though he doesn’t bury it in his tea, instead painting over it quickly with a mask that’s not so thick that Sasha can’t still see the hurt that lies beneath. “Right,” he says, and the little laugh that escapes him is entirely devoid of humor. “Guess that’s it, then. Nice and succinct—don’t know why it gets such a bad rap in rom-coms, to be honest.”

The guilt is burning its way up Sasha’s throat, hot and sticky. It’s a struggle to force herself to speak around it, but she does, because it’s important. Because it matters. Because she’s not going to lose her best friend just because she’s afraid. So, she swallows the lump in her throat just enough to say, “It’s not because I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Tim; it’s because I don’t want to be in a relationship at all. A… a romantic one, at least.”

Tim doesn’t say anything at first, and though Sasha knows he’s just taking the time to parse her words, to understand what she’s trying to tell him—he’s ace, he told her before they… before, so he’ll know what she means—she can’t keep the anxiety from clawing up the back of her throat with acid-dipped nails. She takes a drink of her tea, and then another, until she’s staring at the bottom of her mug with her heart thrumming in the back of her throat. The sound of her own pulse in her ears is so loud that she almost doesn’t hear Tim when he says, quietly, “I’m sorry, Sasha.”

Sasha sets her mug down hard enough to chip, surprise and guilt turning her blood to liquid nitrogen and her muscles to ice. “No, please- please don’t apologize, Tim, I should be the one who- I should have told you sooner instead of- of leading you on when I was never going to reciprocate. And then you told me you were ace and I- I still didn’t say anything because- because—”

Sasha waves her now-free hand in the air wildly, grasping for a reason that just won’t come. Finally, for want of anything better, she lands on, “Because I somehow thought that was going to be the thing that you’d hate me for instead of for how I’ve been acting all week.” She deflates, ever so slightly, and says, “I am so, so sorry, Tim.”

She affixes her eyes to the table, to the spiraling wood grains that trace lines across its surface, and doesn’t let go. She can think of a million expressions Tim might be wearing right now, ranging from guilt to sympathy to frustration to hurt, and she doesn’t want to see any of them.

A hand, warm and terra-cotta brown, settles on top of hers, and Tim says, “I meant that I’m sorry for assuming that the reason you were avoiding me was about me. I should have asked sooner, but I…” He lets out a small laugh. “I suppose I thought you hated me. That I’d done something—though I couldn’t figure out what—and now you never wanted to see me again. And then I- I made it about me. Got frustrated when you wanted to talk. Didn’t even consider that there might have been something else going on.”

“Why would you have?” Sasha says quietly, eyes still glued to the table. “I didn’t give you any indication that there was. I didn’t say anything.”

Tim hums, a sad sound, and says, “I suppose neither of us did.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment. In the interim, the sounds of the café filter in: the clank of cups against countertops, the hiss of steam as it spills free from stainless steel water heaters, the chatter of those around them who are lost in their own worlds of words and wants and wishes. Then, Tim’s hand tightens around Sasha’s, almost imperceptibly, and he says, “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

Sasha finally looks up from the table. Tim’s watching her, his eyes full of an affection so sweet it tastes of melted caramels on Sasha’s tongue. “I’ve loved you in so many ways, Sasha James, in so many times and places and moments. And I’m not going to give them all up if one of those ways isn’t something that you want from me. I’ll just put that one aside and replace it with new ones.” Tim shrugs and smiles, and it’s so casual, so easy, that Sasha thinks she must be dreaming it. “If you don’t want to date, then we won’t. And that’s not going to make me love you any less.”

Sasha looks at Tim, trying to wrangle the tendrils of emotions within her into something beyond the electrifying, giddy happiness that she feels bubbling up in her chest. What comes out, in the end, is a small laugh and a quiet, “It’s that easy?”

Tim holds up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“Huh.” Sasha taps a finger against the edge of her mug, feeling the press of now-cool ceramic on her skin. The smile tugging at her lips is insistent enough that she finally just lets it slip free, uninhibited by shaking hands or acid claws or rapid-fire heartbeats. It’s still a nervous thing—a fawn just learning to walk, a baby bird pushed from its nest and struggling to unfurl its wings mid-freefall, a butterfly emerging from its cocoon with stained-glass wings and a life turned upon its head. It remains so for several weeks, through the still-awkward coffee runs and the times Sasha spends curled up on Tim’s couch with the space between them burning red-hot and icy-cold in equal measure and the staggering guilt that still returns as Sasha stands in the shower or lies in bed or walks through the doors to the Institute to see Tim sat at his desk, his smile growing wider each day.

Then one day Sasha reaches for it, almost absently—that nervous feeling, the almost-falling swoop of her stomach—and finds it gone. She reaches and instead finds Tim, standing in the kitchen of her flat with flour dusted on his nose and kneading a ball of bread dough as he regales her with a story of his first tried-and-failed attempt at making bread that involved not one, but two separate fire-alarm incidents. And when she smiles at him, it feels so light and freeing that a laugh comes with it, bubbly with surprise and affection.

She spreads stained-glass wings, strong enough now to carry her weight and beautiful in their own right, and lets the wind carry her home.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #aspecarchives #the magnus archives fic #tim stoker #sasha james #asexual tim stoker #aromantic sasha james #internalized arophobia //#my fic #my writing #looks like we're keeping this posting style! i think i like it a lot better.. more readable

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

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A Den of Iniquity (Part 5)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Violence, Vomiting and Adult content.

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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Anne’s ability to remain sober was yet to be seen. Dracula felt amusement ripple through him as his shadowed fingers moved along the walls of her basement home once again. She was asleep in front of her sofa, sleeping off the night shift she had just finished. The sun wasn’t up yet this late into the winter, and so, Dracula’s powers were not weakened by the threat of the sunrise. His smoke curled from the shadows, rippling in a wave down the walls, collecting on the floor like a pool of liquid nitrogen, cold and churning. The vampire’s form took shape within the rippling cloud before he reached within to produce the Van Helsing’s family book. The cracked leather back contacted the coffee table with a dull thump and Dracula turned his red eyes on the sleeping form of Anne. She didn’t stir. The vampire opened the book to the front page as he reformed into a human shape, his gloved fingers peeling free a page of her notebook silently. Dracula took her pen from the table and penned out a message in old cursive just to spite the woman’s eyesight.

‘Perhaps we can talk about the mysteries of the darkness once more in the morgue? This evening.’

With a curl to the end of his name, the vampire tucked the note inside the front cover and closed the book carefully, admiring the old cursive of Abraham’s writing as he made sure to place it in front of her. The vampire snatched the whiskey from her hand and replaced the lid before moving to tuck it away in her cabinet once more. He paused as he peered inside at the three other bottles. He looked at the label of the bottle in his hand, contemplative of such a desire to drink, before he replaced it in her cupboard and left in a rush of cold mist, trickling from her window over the small garden and out into the night once more.

Anne woke up with a start. Her neck burned with agony from being laid against her armchair, her head pressed back against the side of the headrest. With a groan, she raised her head and clutched at the back of her neck, trying to rub some blood flow back into the region. The sunlight was harsh against her eyes. She’d forgotten to close the curtains again when she got home. Anne looked at the window, glaring at the sunshine as she untucked herself from the armchair and glanced at the heavy, coffee table in front of her. Her blue eyes widened with disbelief as she gazed at the leather cover of her family’s Vampirology book. It was laid beside her empty whiskey tumbler. In a rush, she grasped the book from the table and cracked open the cover. A piece of paper skittered free, flopping onto the side of the armchair. Anne scowled as she plucked the paper from the armrest. Vladimir. That damn Vampire had been in her home once more. She read the cursive and scoffed before angrily slamming her book down onto the coffee table.

“That fucking vampire.” She ran her fingers through her hair, huffing and puffing to herself as she stormed over to the window and looked though. It was open. She slammed the window shut before balling Dracula’s note into a small ball and throwing it at her desk in the corner of the lounge. With a growl she kicked the armchair before taking a deep breath and picking up the balled-up note and rereading it. On the back there was a carefully written date and time.

It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. The King of Vampires knew where she lived anyway.

The packets of cigarettes weren’t really a good substitute for the drinking, Anne figured out as she stood on top of the hospital roof, by the huge incineration chimneys. The incinerators were not burning, so she was free to smoke up on the roof for a while.

A rush of wind made her shudder before a smooth voice spoke behind her, “It is a beautiful night.” Dracula purred from above her. She pushed away from the wall and took a long drag of her cigarette as she looked up at the vampire who hung from the bar fixings of a satellite on the roof. A creature wrapped in its own wings morphed into the shape of a man, covered in a dark coat. He flopped from the bar yet landed like a predator, gracefully on his feet, his black coat hiding his form, wrapped around him tightly. Anne tapped the end of her cigarette, flicking ash onto the floor as she watched the monster walk across the roof, his heeled shoes silent against the concrete.

“Maybe for beasts like you. I’m fucking cold.” She took another drag of her cigarette and ignored the vampire as he loomed over her, stood inches from her back.

Dracula grinned with fangs, “Those sticks will kill you, hunter.” His voice curled in her ears like a dark promise.

“I’ll be dead with the liver cirrhosis first.” Anne stubbed the end out against the bricks before she dropped the end into the wall mounted ashtray, “What do you want, Dracula? Weren’t we meant to meet in the morgue?”

Anne turned around into his chest and scowled at the closeness, looking up at his human face with distaste. A pale face was framed with dark hair which twisted with a mind of its own. His eyes were human-like, the dark brown almost black as he rubbed at the pointed facial hair on his jaw. The vampire’s hands stretched out between the two of them, and his fingers uncurled to reveal a single glass vial.

“Your blood?” Anne looked at the vial suspiciously, “What do you want me to do with it?”

Dracula’s other hand disappeared behind his own back before Anne gasped. A smoky hand revealed itself, her blade clutched in his hand. The vampire grinned with a hiss, mocking her as he tossed the weapon behind himself.

“Do what you want with it. Try and find a way to kill me. Seek cures for your diseases or simply drink it. I care not.” He hissed at the sight of her crucifix and flicked a finger, watching the silver melt from her neck before he continued, “Consider it a payment in blood for your…help.” He drawled the word before dropping the vial into Anne’s outstretched hand, “May its mysteries unravel swiftly, Doctor.”

She wasn’t fooled. Dracula wasn’t an idiot. He wanted her to have his blood for a reason.

“You’re a creature of lies, Dracula. I’m not an idiot. I know when I am being made fun of.” Anne eyed the blade behind his imposing figure, “You must know, that after six hundred years, there is no return from the damnation of death you have chosen?”

Dracula looked at her, his eyes bleeding to red as the wind whipped at both of them, “The blood is the life.” He offered before he stepped back towards the shadows, his body melting into them as he flashed white fangs, “Perhaps you can find the answers of that life?” He laughed as he disappeared, not a trace of his red eyes or white teeth left in the shadows of the hospital as Anne rushed for her blessed blade.

The vial of blood was cold in her hand and she looked at the label with her glasses perched on the end of her nose. His office number was penned over the sticky note.

The vampire watched the moon as he soared over the London rooftops, contemplating the foolishness of his own actions. Perhaps, he had just handed the key to his demise to a Van Helsing. The last descendant of the line. The last one that could kill him. There was a secret in his own condition. What he was could not be changed, he was too steeped in blood for that, but perhaps he could find the key to saving someone? Death wanted you. It wanted your life, but your soul would be damned, slipping through his fingers to hell if he did not act before the creature sought to take you. To condemn a person to darkness was for them to never be the same. A walking corpse and a shell of a person, filled with the desire to drink, sin and kill. He remembered, vividly, the feeling of your spectre on top of him and wondered if that was the future as he opened his wings and swooped down towards St.Paul’s Cathedral. His claws gripped at the tip of the spire on top of the dome. The night was loud beneath the building, taxis beeping still in the streets below. Humans never did truly rest anymore. Dracula peered at the stars with hellish eyes and watched the clouds roll over them, a cold fog dripping over the buildings around him from the drop in temperature.

Dogs barked as he soared away from the cathedral, his wings spread as he caught the frigid wind and climbed higher over the city, gazing down at the orange streetlamps glittering below. It was a beautiful place, full of life even at a late hour. He compared his previous knowledge about London to its current state and purred at the delightful tastes of the humans scuttling below. People from all walks of life. Thinking of the taste of blood made him hunger for it and the vampire circled slowly towards the night time clubbing scene as he thought on the words of Death. Her death. As he landed, he felt his wings fall back into a coat and looked at the entrance to one of the rock bars. A man was outside in the fresh air of the side alley, looking up at the sky. His arms were covered in gooseflesh as she shivered in the cold of the November air, his vest clearly not the correct choice for the weather. Dracula watched from the streetlamp as he pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing something on it. The vampire walked across the road, his dark eyes flashing as he turned his influence on the man, churning his thoughts with desires he never knew he had until the darkness played with them. The man turned his head and opened his mouth as he looked at the vampire walking towards him.

Dracula peered down at the young man, “Good evening.” Hypnotism clouded the man’s eyes as he reached to brush a finger over his cheek, nail dragging against the skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

The vampire pressed him against the alley and covered his eyes before feeling the heaviness of hunger in his gut and the sharpness of his own teeth, “Here is fine.” He muttered as he exposed the man’s neck, holding his legs open so it would appear like a tryst in the alleyway if anyone were to walk past. His gloved hand muffled the scream that escaped the man as he bit into his neck, hard and deep. Blood spurted over his tongue as he lapped at the wounds, sucking harshly before it started to flow by itself, the artery spurting violently from the damage of his teeth. His stomach ached with fullness as he tore himself away and licked at the wounds, looking at the puckered flesh as he cleaned the neck completely clean. Dracula took his scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders and neck, hiding the damage as he tucked him close to the alley entrance and slipped into the shadows once more.

“You will remember nothing of this. Go home. Sleep.”

A moment later, the man awoke with a groan, clasping his neck and head in pain before he shivered and pulled the shawl of the scarf tighter around himself, hailing a taxi from the side of the road. The vampire licked blood from his chin as he turned down a side road, the feed not helping to clear his mind any.

“I’ll be home tomorrow morning, Drac. Sue said she’d come in and check in on you early and I filled your bowls.” You looked at your cat and sighed. He was sulking, tucked up on top of the cupboards again out of the way, “Be good!” You tugged his tail and dodged his paw before you picked up your overnight bag and headed towards your door. You locked it and tugged the handle before descending the stairs and heading towards the pavement. There, parked up on the curb, was a slick black car. The tinted glass slid down smoothly, and Vladimir poked his head out of the car, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose as he smiled at your approach.

“Somehow I’m not surprised by the BMW.” You joked as you looked at him through the window. He was dressed in a heavy turtleneck jumper, his hair tied back with tight jeans ironed to perfection. Vlad open the door of the driver’s seat and shuddered in the cold.

“It was more money than I expected to pay.” He opened the back of the car with a press of a button and huffed, “I think the dealer got most of what I paid.”

“Imagine that being your only concern.” You laughed and rolled your eyes, “It is a gorgeous car.” You complimented as you put your bag in the back and walked around to the passenger seat. Vladimir made no move to open you the door but simply climbed back inside and pushed the stick into gear as you clipped your belt into place.

“Let us go, then. I have a few things for us to do.” He pulled away from your home and shop with a spin of the wheel.

“Does that list include the movies you promised?” You glanced around at the interior of the car.

“But of course!”

His home was as grand as ever, though devoid of any extra staff this time. You looked at the wood to carpet floors and sighed. It was a dream home. You looked at the curtains and rugs and smile at the change from red to purple.

“Did you get new curtains because of me?” You asked as you pulled your coat free and felt your hair. It was raining outside, in a typical November fashion, and you made sure to hang your coat a little closer to the radiator on the stand, so it would dry and not smell too musty from the rainwater.

Vladimir tugged at his jumper and decided it was dry enough to not change before he replied, “I might have changed them. I decided royal purple was more fit for a woman of your stature, madame.” He dipped to take your hand, kissing it like a prince before he laughed joyously and twirled you under his arm.

You were a little overwhelmed with the treatment and blushed at the attention as Vladimir spun you towards the stairs.

“You can put your bag in the guest bedroom.” Vladimir pointed to the top of the stairs and turned his finger to the right, “It is the door to the right of the bathroom. Second door on the right.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled and took your bag handles in your hand before climbing the stairs to deposit your things in the guest bedroom.

It smelt of fresh roses. Fresh Tudor roses sat in a vase on the vanity by the window. The soft scent wafted across the fresh bedding and permeated from the curtains that were drawn over the window. It was dark now outside, the winter making the days incredibly short. With another inhale of the fresh smell, you placed your bag on the bed and smiled around at the décor. It was all expensive. Real wood and shined wax surfaces with rich coloured walls. There was even a canopy bed. You pulled the ties from the sheer curtains and watched them fall with a grin. It was a room fit for a princess. You took your toiletry bag from your satchel and walked to the vanity. It was cleaned and lined with intricate glass bottles, made for expensive oil-based perfumes. The toiletries in your bag paled in comparison to how much the Egyptian glass bottles must have cost Vladimir. The stopper was hard to pull out but when it popped free you hummed at the smell of the Myrrh based perfume. You looked at the oil inside and frowned as the liquid dripped up to the edge of the bottle. A drop of oil clung to the corner and you pressed your finger to it before dabbing it against your neck. Another drop followed it. It dripped, floating upwards before dropping back into the bottle as though it had never defied gravity. You took the stopper and tapped it back into the bottle before dabbing the oil on your neck, a dot behind each ear and one on each wrist. It was a heavy smell. A light scent of cinnamon mixed in with cardamom behind a heavy base of Myrrh.

Vladimir was sprawled out on a large sofa in the lounge, his feet up on a stool and his fingers playing with the buttons of his remote control for the television. You smiled as you entered the room, playing with the corner of your top before you sat in the spare seat next to him, tucking your feet under yourself as you looked at the television. He’d been passing the time with dramas, though his phone on the cushions told you he hadn’t been bothered for actually watching what was playing. Vladimir held his arm up off the cushions and curled the fingers of his other hand. For a moment, you were apprehensive, but you were quickly swayed by the idea of a hug, and scooted along the cushions before letting Vladimir tug you close, hugging you to his side as he offered you the television remote.

“Guest’s choice first, my dear.” Vladimir let you take the remote and ran his fingers over your hair before lowering his nose beneath your chin, “Did you use a perfume?” He asked as he tucked cold fingers under your chin, swiping it over your skin before sniffing at the smell on his hands, “Myrrh is expensive. A good choice.”

Embarrassment coloured your skin, “It smelt nice so I…”

“I’m not mad. They are made for using.” Vladimir cooed before he watched you open the various streaming services he had.

“What was it that you wanted to watch?” You asked Vladimir as he pushed your drink across the coffee table and handed you a menu for take-out.

The business owner hummed, “There was a film.” He opened his hand before pointing to the screen as you scrolled over a film, “That one. About…Ah yes. The monster and the woman. Apparently, it won awards, no?” He asked as you clicked open the film for him to see.

“It did win a lot of awards, yeah.” You confirmed as he settled back against the cushions, his arm wrapped around you firmly, holding you against his side as you pressed play, “What do you want to order?” You asked, holding out the menu for him to see, “Chinese?”

“I’m not hungry. I had a business dinner before three o’clock. Order what you want, my dear. I’ll pay for it.” He offered as you hummed, “I have heard that the chow mein from there is good.”

You laughed at his pronunciation but nodded none the less, “I think I’ll get that then.” The menu had the number on the back, and you rang to order before returning your attention back to the movie that Vladimir had requested be put on. It was about a mute woman and her fish god lover. You quickly became entranced, warily pressed up against Vladimir as his hand circled your waist.

The blood pumping against him was a temptation he was now very able to resist. Hundreds of years meant he could control himself. It was a short leash, and he felt the urge to simply feel the crunch of bone and meat under his teeth intensely. His leash grew a little shorter as he ghosted his fingers over your wrist, feeling the thumping of a nervous heart underneath the skin. Dracula’s ear perked at the door and he took the excuse to escape the blood and flesh that felt so divine underneath his fingers. He heard you pause the movie and cursed that you were listening.

“Hi. Chinese delivery.” The driver offered him the bag of food.

The vampire smiled thinly, “Thank you.” He gave the man a twenty-pound note, “Now please take your multi-tool and cut your arm.” The words were carried on a heavy breeze, thick and laced with temptation. The delivery man’s eyes went cloudy, unfocused as he tugged a swiss army knife from his pocket and flicked open the blade. The vampire watched him cut the skin and hissed through his teeth, opening his mouth as the man held his arm higher in the air, letting blood fall from his skin. Dracula shuddered as he opened his mouth to catch the stray drops. He licked the skin with a cold tongue, smearing pink spit in his wake as he sucked fast mouthfuls of blood into his mouth, thankful all the curtains were drawn to hide him.

“Have you got enough money to pay?”

The vampire released the wound and licked the blood from his mouth, his meal settling in his stomach. He licked a drop of blood from the plastic bag handle and wiped at his mouth.

“Have a good evening, sir.” He spun his index finger and watched the delivery driver nod and disappear back towards his car, blood dripping down towards his fingers, “I’ve got enough don’t worry.” He clinked some coins in his pocket and closed the door as the driver pulled out of his drive and onto the street. He grabbed a tissue and wiped his face. There was only a small trickle of blood and he sucked at his teeth before he went to the kitchen to fetch you a plate and cutlery.

Vladimir smiled under your gaze as he entered the lounge again, “I got you a few things. I didn’t know whether you would eat it out of the box?” He placed the plate and cutlery down followed by your food.

“Thank you. You’re sweet.” You cooed at him as he sat back down, “Oh. I think they spilt some sauce on the box.” You grumbled at the splodge of blood on top of the plastic box. He felt his heart sink a little before you simply wiped it away with a curl of your nose. Dracula smiled as you tucked into the food, settled back at his side as you ate quietly. He restarted the movie, feeling relief flood his system as you didn’t question the mysterious red substance.

The beast purred at the idea of the next meal being you. His gripped your thigh gently to ground himself. You were not a meal to be eaten and wasted. He wouldn’t throw you at Death’s feet.

After a movie named ‘The Others’ you both decided it was getting to be late. You looked at the clock and hummed against his side, fingers curling into the black jumper over Vladimir’s chest. It was a fine make, expensive wool soft under your fingers, and you smiled sleepily up at him as he adjusted you, sitting you in his lap, your thighs either side of his own. It was intimate, but you found your heart soaring at the contact and at the idea of where it meant you both were with each other.

“Are you tired, my dear?” He asked softly, his nose pressed to your ear before he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, the smell of Myrrh intoxicating.

“Mmm.” You hummed, fingers playing with the ends of his beautifully wavy hair, the dark, black locks slipping through your fingers like snakes.

“Would you like to rest now?” Vladimir made a pleased noise at the attention to his hair.

Your fingers paused in his locks, “I’d like a shower…If that’s alright?” You asked quietly.

“That is more than fine.” He nodded before letting you stand up, his cool fingers lingering against your hands as you stood, “You know where the bathroom is, yes?”

“First door on the right. I know.”

“I’ll bring you some fresh towels.” He promised as you left the room, closing the door behind you.

The vampire felt his stomach churn with an unknown sensation, the memory of you against him, burned into his skin like a fever.

The water was hot against your skin, soothing the ache in your back from working at the counter the whole day serving tourists. You rubbed at your skin with the minty smelling soap, enjoying the tingle of peppermint over your skin as you washed the lather of soap away. The wet room was slate and sparklingly clean. The glass fogged and you turned in the spray, admiring the chrome shelving and posh soaps and shampoos Vladimir had carefully lined up. A need burned in your stomach, but you ignored the temptation to stir the fire smouldering down there as you turned and swiped at the fog over the glass. Vladimir’s cool hands would make a better job of sating your desires. You were quick to dismiss the idea and turned back into the hot water. That was until the door creaked open behind you.

“I have brought you towels.” Vladimir spoke from the door before pausing, watching your skin disappear as the swiped area of the glass fogged back up, slowly making your form disappear from his view once more, “Forgive me…” He spoke loud enough to just be heard over the harsh spray of water, “But you are beautiful.” Vladimir complimented as he placed the pile of fresh towels on top of the toilet lid

Burning water did not cool your skin as you listened to his voice. You turned under the hot water as you listened to him step closer to the shower screens. You heart thudded in your chest, shaking your hands as you took a step closer to the glass as well.

“You are radiant.” Vladimir purred, “Gorgeous like a goddess. Something to be worshipped.” You looked at the figure beyond the foggy glass and watched him place his hand against the screen.

All of a sudden, you managed to find your voice, “Is that what you say to them all?” The words were half choked in your throat, but Vladimir heard them all the same.

“I have only said those words once before…and she is gone now.” He promised. You could feel the agony in his words and you glanced at the glass before wiping away the condensation to reveal his face, intense eyes looking into your own, despite not being able to see you until a moment ago, “She is dead and no other has ever…filled the hole.” He pressed his forehead to the glass. His dark eyes shimmered with a colour you had never seen before he smiled and turned away from you, “I will leave you. I apologise for being so forward.”

Before he could leave, you opened the shower door and grabbed for a towel, hiding your body from his eyes before he could see you again.

“I…I don’t.” Your mouth seized as his eyes turned darker, a smirk curling on his lips as he admired you, even hidden behind a towel.

“Won’t you let me see you?” Vladimir whispered, “Won’t you let me worship you?” He asked as he came closer, his hands reaching to cup your waist as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart thundered underneath his touch, “I don’t know if I should let you.”

Vladimir’s nose pushed under your chin as he smelt the heavy scent of the Myrrh perfume still clinging to your damp skin, “And why not? Why deny yourself such pleasure?”

You reached for his hair again and pushed it away from his cheek, “Because I don’t feel like I know you.” You confessed, “I don’t know who you really are.”

Vladimir looked at you, your faces close, your noses brushing together before he leaned down to place a single kiss to your lips.

Together, you melded against one another, hands clutching each other at you deepened the kiss a little. He pulled away as quickly as the feverishness began.

“I can tell you. Soon, I will tell you everything.” He promised as you looked at his handsome face. His eyes were wet, red at the corners before he hugged you tightly, “I…I think I feel something deeply for you. I understand this is a lot.” He confessed to you in a rush, shuddering against you as though he was crying.

“I…” Your mouth was dry, “I think I feel the same, but I don’t…I can’t explain it.” You whispered against his jumper.

Vladimir pushed his fingers into your flesh, as though you were going to disappear, “I can’t either.” He agreed, “But I know that I want to be with you…However you want me.” The man fell to his knees, “I am your servant.” The man’s hands grazed up your legs, slowly, dragging cold lines behind his fingertips as he looked up at you, hair falling over his eyes and cheeks.

You reached for his face with a soft smile, “I don’t want a servant.” He let you tug him back to his feet, “I want an equal.”

Vladimir’s lips met your own in a crush of passion, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he held you as close as he could manage, his arms moving from your face to clutch your body close.

“Do you think you could love a monster?”

“If that monster loved me, I could.”

The sound of an alarm sounding woke you up. It was loud, a persistent beeping noise against the drowsiness in your head. It was sharp and ear piercing. You rushed to find your phone at the noise, rustling in the duvet to find it. After a moment, you opened your eyes, and found the phone on top of the nightstand. You silenced your alarm and groaned into the room as you tried to force the sleep from yourself. The room was silent now. You dragged your phone from the stand and squinted at the time before rolling over and realising you were alone. It was nine in the morning and Vladimir was nowhere to be seen. You sat up with the sheets and looked down at yourself. You were naked yet there was no ache in your body. There was no mess either. Nothing had happened. You remembered laying on top of Vladimir, kissing him between tales from his homeland as you listened and learned. The tale of the beast in the castle. The River Princess. The fog in the hills. All of it fascinated you. You’d listened to the sound of his voice, late into the evening, tracing patterns on his skin as he rumbled with laughter.

The bedside table rustled as you placed your hand on it. You frowned and gripped a piece of paper. It was labelled with your name. You unfolded the paper and looked at the note inside. Vladimir had an early meeting to attend. A sadness curled in your chest as you sat up properly and peered at the grandness of Vladimir’s own bedroom. You got out of the bed and walked over to his vanity before frowning. All the mirrors were covered in black silk, hidden out of view. You pulled back one of the sheets and looked in the floor standing mirror. It was in good shape yet old, like an antique. Your own face looked back before you re-covered the mirror. There wasn’t anything different in Vladimir’s room until you caught sight of the great portrait on the old chimney breast. A painted man looked down at you, a sword laid across his lap. You looked at the sword mounted underneath the painting and gazed in awe at the sharpness and magnificence of them both. Wondering if he was a collector, you took one of Vladimir’s red robes from his door and tied it around your waist before venturing to get some breakfast.

Dracula hissed as the door closed, blood spurting from his mouth, his latest meal laid in the soil next to him as he purred, claws slipping further into the earth as he listened to you move. The sound of silk over skin made him gurgle again as he closed his eyes, wishing that the night could replay over and over in his mind.

‘I know you have gone home but thank you for spending last night with me. I adored it. Will I see you again soon?’

You smiled down at your phone as you paused eating your lunch inside your shop. You replied with a witty comment and waited for his reply before going back to your lunch, thinking on the way Vladimir’s hands could hold you in other ways. Your brain skittered into the gutter for the rest of the afternoon.

Anne held the glass slide in her hand as she tried to comprehend what she was holding in her hand. It was beyond what she had seen before. Nothing compared. No disease had such virulence nor the ability to do what she had seen from Dracula’s own cells. His lymphatic cells were an amazing thing to watch, simultaneously killing and repairing the red blood cells, making them immortal. The blood she had originally was just as active now in her hands. She’d injected a rat with a small does, just to see what happened. The beast had appeared unfazed initially. Slowly, it had died off, its legs stopping working before she did the kindness and put the animal to sleep. It hadn’t died from the drugs. She ended up having to take the creature’s head off. Immortality. The rat was impervious to chemicals and drugs that could kill. It was an amazing thing, but Anne wasn’t swayed. She knew what the blood meant, and what it was capable of. A constant state of death and life. A curse upon those who were infected with Dracula’s blood. Damnation from God. Rejection of the light was not curable. She needed to tell the vampire that. He was beyond the help of mortals. Damned forever. He could live as a hunted beast or die by her hands.

“A frown makes you look older.” Dracula rumbled from underneath her. Red eyes opened in her shadow and Anne jumped backwards as the beast slid from her shadow and coalesced into a physical form. The shadows swirled into the human form of Dracula and Anne levelled him with a look of contempt.

“Has six hundred years taught you no manners?” She huffed as he drew the vial of the vampire’s blood from her coat and held it up for him to see. There was a little more than half left, “I wanted to tell you about this.” She tossed the blood back at the vampire.

Dracula caught the vial and took the top from the vial, smelling his own blood before he stuck out a pointed, long tongue, a mouth full of pointed teeth opening wide as he took his own blood back into himself.

“What did you find, Anne?” He asked as he tucked his hands into his pockets, licking blood from his bottom lip.

“Everything I expected to find. Your own cells are killing themselves and then repairing at a rate that is explosive. You shouldn’t be moving at all.” She huffed, “Though I suppose you aren’t alive. You’re a monster. A walking corpse.” Anne took a holy blade from her sleeve and watched as the vampire’s hair waved over his head in a mind of its own.

“You raise a blade to me after I gave you the answer to eternal life?” Dracula’s voice boomed off the concrete of the rooftop, “After I gave you the answers to everything?” He snarled as his hair covered his face, blood red eyes burning through the strands as he took his hands from his pockets and watched the hands grow and shift into snarling curls of shadowy monsters.

“I raise my blade at a beast and a monster. A creature that has killed for fun, enjoyment and sport. You enjoy all of this. You enjoy playing with people like a game!” She hissed at him as she drew a long sword from her belt. A sword and a dagger. Dracula’s mouth opened up the sides of his face as he faced the hunter, eyes peering from a moving creature of shadows.

“This is the face of life!” He howled at Anne, shadows bursting from him as dogs howled at the night sky below.

“You are nothing but corruption and death!” She shouted back, her feet planted firmly on the floor as the vampire hissed and spat across from her. Without another thought, she sent a small blade flying towards his red eyes. The shadows moved into two pieces, and the dagger flew through him before she was upon him with blessed steel. Her swipes swished through nothing but air as Dracula soared into the sky above her and dived, great clawed talons scratching at her face. Anne launched her dagger at him as he climbed once more and grinned at the vampire howled, blood spurting from his grey skinned side.

With a growl, she watched the vampire soar into the night sky, escaping with her blade lodged under his ribs. The night sky was littered with cold looking stars, clouds rolling over the moon as she watched the bat wings disappear behind the church and rooftops. It was a moment later that she looked at the scratches on her arms and the trail of wet saliva over one of them. Dracula had tasted her blood. He knew her plans, or at least pieces of them. She cursed the beast as she got to her feet, sheathing her old sword before collecting the holy throwing daggers from the rooftop. Anne tucked her coat back around her weapons and looked at her ward watch which was clipped to her pocket. Her shift started in an hour. She had enough time to return home and clean herself before she had dead bodies to look at and examine.

“I’ll finish my family’s work, Dracula…” She opened the stairs, “Starting with that new toy of yours.” The stairwell doors closed with a resounding slam.

#dracula #dracula x reader #count dracula #vlad dracula tepes #vladimir dracula #count dracula x reader #vladimir dracula x reader #dracula x female reader #dracula 1992 #bram stoker's dracula #bram stoker's dracula 1992 #count dracula x female reader #vladimir dracula x female reader #fanfiction #reader insert #fanfic #my writing

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

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Turned - Patrick Stump x Reader

Request: hey would you be able to do something with patrick set in the sixteen candles mv where the reader gets turned? i love your writing btw and if you have too many requests then thats fine :)

Warnings: blood, pain, vampires

Word count: 2 721

The sound of your shoes on the hard paving stones echoed back from the walls left and right of the dark street, but you could not hear it over the sound of blood rushing in your ears and your heavy breathing. You were a good runner, always had been, but now your body reached its limits, and you knew you had never had a chance to begin with. They were monsters, predators, created solemnly for the purpose of hunting down humans. You had spent weeks hunting them, trying to work against these forces of evil that had taken away your closest friend. Pete was not dead, they had turned him into one of their own, a vampire, but maybe that was worse than death. And it was what was about to happen to you, you realised as you came face to face with a pale, evil smiling, young man. He wore a hat and old fashioned clothes, some weird, dead, furry animal hanging over his left shoulder.

You spun around, ready to bolt off into the direction you had come from, but only collided with another one of these monsters. They had been closer than you had thought. Probably they had even made a game out of chasing your around, just to see you suffer.

Nauseous, you turned back to the vampire you had seen first. He was the leader of the Dandies, no doubt.

“Stay away from me,” you hissed, your body shaking both from adrenaline and fear.

“Oh, that’s what you want, right?”

You had never heard him talk before, had hardly heard any vampire talk before, other than Pete. Usually they just restricted themselves to hissing at you.

Strong hands gripped your arms from behind, twisting them painfully to your back. From the corner of your eyes you saw more and more figures emerging from the dark around you, all of them part of the Dandies.

This was it, you realised. This was the end. Either they were going to kill you, or they would turn you into one of them. You remembered what Pete had told you one evening, that it felt like he was losing himself to the darkness, that every breath he took brought him closer and closer to turning into a monster. What had you replied to that? That as long as he did not want to become a monster, he would not turn into one? And had he not answered that it felt like his body and his mind were no longer really connected, that he feared his instincts would take over soon? You had shrugged at that, promising him that you trusted him not to hurt anyone, and to prove it, you had hugged him tightly. At first he had been stiff and tense, as if he was afraid he might attack you any moment, but after a few seconds he had relaxed and hugged you back. So maybe there was hope for him. And that meant that there maybe was hope for you too. If the Dandies would let you live.

The head of the gang slowly made his way over to you, swinging the walking cane he was carrying. Fear made you heart beat even faster than before, and you knew that this made it even harder for the vampires to resist the urge to tear you to pieces. Suddenly a voice rung in your head.

“They want you to be afraid. They thrive on our fear, so we can’t give it to them. Never be afraid of them, fight back. Fight as long as your body allows you to. Always fight.”

Along with the memory of Patrick’s words, the memory of his hand on your shoulder came back. And suddenly you did not feel scared anymore, only angry. Angry because maybe you would never get to see him again, maybe you would never get to talk to him again, maybe you would never get to tell him how you felt for him. Andy had urged you to tell Patrick, again and again, promising you the blond would feel the same, but you had always chickened out, had never had the courage to be honest with Patrick. And now it was probably too late. All you could do was go down fighting.

And that’s what you did.

You started throwing yourself backwards against the vampire who was holding you, knocking the back of your head right into his face, causing him to let go in surprise. Spinning around you knocked him in the throat, causing him to wheeze and sink to his knees. The moment of your triumph was short lived, because the other vampires started attacking now. You managed to take out two more, but after just a few seconds the fair amount of ten vampires had taken hold of you. Some were holding onto your arms, two even held your legs restraint with which you were kicking around fanatically now. And another two were gripping into your hair, pulling your head back so your throat was exposed to the leader of the gang, who was smiling happily.

“Aw, putting up a fight,” he grinned. With inhuman speed he crossed the past meters between where he hand been standing and you, bending down to your neck. “Say hi to Peter for me.”

You had always assumed getting bitten would hurt, but you had severely underestimated how much it hurt. You could feel the teeth sinking into the soft skin at the side of your neck, ripping open your flesh, but even through the pain you realised that they were not ripping you apart, they were turning you. As if on command you felt the venom flood into your system. Like fire it worked its way from the wound in your neck up to your head and downwards to your heart, feeling like flames were traveling inside your body. And once these flames had reached your heart, they turned cold. Ice cold. The burning hot turned into burning cold, freezing your body, not at all soothing the pain from earlier, only making it worse.

In the distance you heard someone shout your name and some courses, and then the vampires let go of you, dropping your body to the ground. The impact with the stones of the street was nothing in comparison to the pain that continued to spread through your system as the venom took over. The world had blurred around you, your vision was hazy, the sounds mixed up into an almost even noise of static. Something touched your face, something warm and alive. Then hands pressed against your neck, and you could tell the person was shaking. A familiar smell hit your nose and you knew it was Patrick.

Patrick had come for you. He was here. You were not alone. What you had not expected was the bitter taste on your tongue that you realised next. It started out as just bitter, then it got hot and while whatever it was that Patrick was feeding you impatiently, started running down your throat, it began burning the insides of your mouth. You tried to spit it out, still unable to register anything around you, but a hand covered your mouth and nose, forcing you to swallow, before they made you drink the next mouth full immediately. You did not know what was worse at this point, the feeling of the venom that still furiously spread through your body, the burning sensation of whatever concoction they were forcing into your system, or the feeling of suffocating.

Words were being spoken, and then turned into what almost sounded like a poem, but you were still unable to make out single words. Something touched your forehead, soft and warm and careful, but through the pain you barely registered it. You tried to speak, but if you managed any words at all, they were probably incoherent bubbling. And then, much to your relief, you passed out, the last thing you registered being lifted off the floor by Patrick.

When you slowly began waking up, the first thing you noticed was how cold you felt. It felt like someone had decided to bath you in liquid nitrogen. In fact you were so cold that you could barely move, only your eyelids were following your command and opened slowly, presenting you with the familiar sight of the ceiling in the warehouse in which you and your friends had your base. The sounds around you were familiar as well, the constant humming of the traffic outside, the whispering of some barely working lamp, the sound of someone training with the dummies.

You felt exhausted, all the pain from earlier had drained you beyond imagination. Memories came back pouring in, the attack from the Dandies, the venom rushing through your veins, the terrible stuff Patrick had made you drink- that had probably been the concoction he had mixed up for Pete in order to slow down his turning process. Patrick and the others must have found you, and while Patrick took care of you, the others kept you save from the Dandies, who ran away, now that their goal, turning you, had been achieved.

Patrick. You closed your eyes and thought of him. How he always had been concerned for your safety, how he always had looked out for you. You remembered the long evenings, or rather mornings, when everyone else was asleep, and the two of you had been sitting somewhere on a roof, watching the sunrise over the city. You had always sat close to him, and often he had given you his jacket to keep you warm, even though you had never been one to feel cold easily. But now you did. Now you felt like you were freezing.

You were still contemplating whether or not it was a good idea trying to sit up, when suddenly steps approached you, and the next moment a familiar voice spoke up.

“(y/n)! You’re awake?” Patrick sat down next to the matrass on the floor you called your own. He reached out his hand and brushed his fingers over your forehead. His skin was hot against yours. “How are you feeling?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, and Patrick’s hand immediately moved to the side of your face, ready to shake you awake again, but you quickly looked up at him.

“Tired, exhausted, cold, in pain, angry, sad, hopeless,-“ you listed.

“Well, I got good news and bad news for you,” Patrick joked, but his eyes were sad and concerned “which ones do you want first?”

“Hit me with all the bad stuff you got.” You tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a whimper.

“Well, the bad news is that these bastards bit you, and we were not there in time to stop them.”

You nodded. You remembered this much. Deciding you needed to sit up, you propped yourself up on your elbows, barely managing to sit, but Patrick quickly helped you, and sat next to you, in order to support you.

“And, also bad news, I got more of this wonderful stuff for you.”

When you saw he was holding up a huge cup of thin, red liquid, stinking of garlic, you almost threw up. It was the same stuff they had made you drink down in the street, but now that your senses were a little clearer again, it stunk worse than you could have imagined.

“Really,” you sighed, knowing you had no choice.

Patrick shrugged and handed you the cup.

“I mean, I could say it’s for your best, if that makes you feel better,” he offered, to which you only gave him a stern look, before starting to drink the disgusting mix of whatever was in there.

The liquid once again burnt your mouth and your throat, but it did not seem to be as bad as the first time. What was worse though was the instinct to throw the contents of your stomach back up again, the general disgust at the contents of the cup, as if someone had asked you to drink your own puke. You tried pushing that picture aside, instead focusing on how you used to like garlic, and eventually managed to empty the cup, before placing it aside with shaky hands.

Patrick had watched closely, amazed how bravely you had done as he had asked of you. It had taken Pete weeks to be able to drink a small espresso cup full of the stuff, before that he had only managed to consume the concoction drop-wise.

“You said there are good news,” you eventually managed to ask, when it felt safe to open your mouth again without throwing up, “please tell me there’s good news?”

Patrick nodded, and smiled a little.

“Good news is that we were there incredibly quickly, and Joe’s idea to always carry some of that drink with us came to use. And the priest was there too, so we were able to prevent the worst, thanks to holy water, garlic and prayers.”

Surprised you looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Patrick grinned and gently reach out his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek, “that we are certain you won’t turn into a full blown vampire as Pete will, at least not if you keep drinking this stuff here.”

He nodded towards the empty cup.

“What- what are you saying,” you stuttered, unable to wrap your head around the words Patrick had just spoken.

“You might have a bigger appetite for raw meat and blood sausages, probably will get a nasty sunburn when exposed to direct sunlight, but you most likely won’t feel the urge to attack people or drink blood when hungry.”

Shaking, you took a deep breath.

“These are good news,” you agreed, feeling relief flooding through your system. If what Patrick was telling you, was true, then you would definitely be able to arrange yourself with drinking this disgusting drink he had created.

For a long while you and Patrick looked at each other. You remembered how much you had longed to see him one last time, when you had been attacked. And now he was sitting right in front of you, his eyes softly looking into yours, a timid smile on his lips. Oh how badly you wanted to kiss him right now!

As if he had read your thoughts, Patrick suddenly leant in, but you stopped him. Immediately an expression of pain and embarrassment painted across his face, and he was about to draw back, but you closed your fingers around the jeans jacket he was wearing, holding him in place a few inches away from you.

“I don’t- it’s not- it’s not that I don’t want to- “ you mumbled, looking up helplessly at Patrick before casting your eyes down into your lap, “What if you’re wrong? What if I hurt you?”

You could feel Patrick relax, and a warm hand closed around your cold one, which was holding onto his jacket.

“First of all, I’m extremely certain that I’m right,” Patrick’s voice sounded as if he was explaining something to a small child, and you could tell the frown had turned into a smile again, “and secondly: I trust you, alright?”

Hesitantly you looked back up at him. He had leaned in closer, so close that his forehead was almost resting against yours. His eyes were watching your every reaction closely as he leant back in, but when you did not stop him nor drew away, he finally closed the gap between your lips.

You could taste the blood underneath his skin, could feel his pulse against his lips, and the warmth of his body flood through his clothes into the air around him, and into you. But he was right, you did not feel the urge to tear him to pieces or anything, it was just irritating to be able to feel him be so alive.

Patrick gave you time to get used to everything, but when you wrapped your hands in his hair, pressing closer to him, he lifted you into his lap, never breaking contact to your lips.

And while you were kissing him in this old warehouse, you could not help but starting to believe that maybe things would eventually turn out okay.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @500240 @starduststyx

#patrick stump x reader #patrick stump fanfiction #patrick stump x reader fluff #patrick stump imagine #vampire au #vampire!au #vampire!reader #a little less sixteen candles a little more touch me #fall ou #fall out boy fanfiction #fall out boy imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

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rewind-eject · 5 years ago

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Cybertronian Food and Drugs

Just a list of things I know for certain about what Transformers put into their bodies.

+ In decreasing order, a Cybertronian needs Energon, oil, and ore to function.

+ Although its chemical composition is currently unknown to us, one of Energon’s properties is as a fuel in fusion which is how it powers Cybertronians.

+Oil flows like blood through a Cybertronian acting both as a lubricant between parts and as a heat sink.

+ Various ores are required for the Cybertronian’s self repair system. They don’t use this metal for energy so a full grown Transformer has a mostly liquid diet.

+ Protoforms and Sparklings however are voracious for ore in order to grow to full size.

+ A Cybertronian nervous system is effectively a superconductor so cryogenic coolants like liquid nitrogen are used as a stimulant.

+ Prowl pounds down coolant like a college student with coffee on final’s week.

+ On the other hand, hot liquids slow your processors down and make your logic fuzzy. Maccadam’s hottest proof drink is called the Slagmaker.

+ Mixmaster’s name comes from his mixology skills.

+ Shorting is the name given when a Cybertronian intentionally deactivates their resistance before touching a live current. The extra voltage makes you feel like you have all the energy in the world while the heat going into your system makes even the dumbest ideas seem good.

+ Its dangerous because if you keep the current low enough you’ll swear you can see Primus but overshoot it and you will meet him for real,

+ The twins have tried shorting once back when they were even more reckless than they are now.

+ They drove Ratchet to drink. He was a regular at Maccadam’s before he met them but he swears its still their fault somehow.

#cybertron #cybertronian #cybertronian food #cybertronian drug #The ReVerse

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themrmalice · 4 years ago

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Treacherous Deep

By Malice

Narrated on YouTube by The Disciple: https://youtu.be/rmoQAE5QBM8

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Metal groans in discomfort as its frame compresses, glass shakes and snickers, full knowledge that it alone stands as a barrier between the crew and the black depth outside. Like invisible arms squeezing the cabin with all its might, wishing only to crush the sub like a tin can. Within were 5 “Derelicts” a term coined for salvagers, investigating a signal that blew through the system from 15,000m below the tense surface of water. Clean, lacking waves, like a marble. Took 4 blasts from an orbital kinetic cannon to break the surface tension, allowing the Derelicts to go beneath its murky waves.

Passing 4,000m, the Abyss, where no light dare tread, and where only 1 singular pulse of light may emit. A fiery red beams from a subsurface station, pulsing, again, again, again. It was still a few thousand metres down, in the pitch black beneath us. Perched on the only continental mass we could find, between two cliffs leading into a massive and unexplored crevice. Depth calculators still havent found the bottom, hidden as it is, we were sent in to find where the S.O.S. was coming from.

Passing 6,000m, its been quiet, with only a few low groans from the Ballast interrupting that silence. Hideous and beautiful, the ocean is nothing but a masterpiece. Our Sonar has not picked up anything thus far, and with a 4,000 mile radius, its only proof that we are truly in an abyss. No rocky formations, no lifeforms, not even bacterial life. Just our sub. The S.S. Moloch. As we sink deeper into the abyss, my job becomes far more difficult. I manage room pressurization. Normally Automated, but the station wanted us to be extra cautious. After 10,000m, its one button press from instantaneous death due to Barotrauma. I’ve seen it, at this depth the body is its own weapon. Implosion, your body guts itself brutally, the fashion by which it does this involves innumerable organs expanding and collapsing. In the blink of an eye, what used to be your friend is now a misty cloud of parting crimson.

Passing 9,000m, in just a few minutes, our ears will start to ring, a signal I need to up pressurization in the sub, just a tick too much however, and we will meet a watery grave. The control panel in front of me started to beep a couple hundred meters up, showcasing a warning that the pressure in my specific cabin was getting too low. If I let it beep for a second longer, my cabin would have collapsed, adding to the weight of our sub and eventually sinking the S.S. Moloch. Everything must be perfect, every tiny calculation, no room for error. Our Oxygen Supply, if the tempurature increases the entire supply could explode and puncture the bow, dragging us all down with it. The Sonar, if we lose power to it, even for a moment, wont be able to notify us of our descent speed. Moving to fast, we hit a rock and implode, moving to slow, and we are wasting valuable minutes beneath the surface. The Pilot, his hands are weary and eyes are straining, sweating profusely, one wrong move and we’ve lost time down here. This S.O.S. beacon was calculated to be below 20,000m. Under the crust and buried in the mantle.

10,000m, we found the station, who signalled us into a drydock for resupply and a small break lasting only 2 hours. A mistake in my opinion, the break may only slow us down. I remained on the ship, telling those on the station I cannot leave until I can guarantee the safe reentry of my companions. About 30 minutes in, I gave in and left. The station was dilapidated, held together by the bare minimum, I believe I found some gum holding a small hole in the ground of the dry dock together, frozen by nitrogen. Depth Gum too, made out of plants found down here, eases anxiety while retaining focus. The crew aboard the station, Station Lamia, one of 4 here and the only one at this depth in The Trench. The Crew were all very calm, relaxed, and overall pleasant. They gave us food, water, the occasional ration of alcohol, and eventually sat us down for a more serious topic. The Trench. The widest berth they’ve found down here was a mere 800m in diametre. Our sub could easily slip through, but that was merely the opening. Past 14,000m, the diameter never opens up to 800m, meaning we would need to take it slow and cautious. They warned us of the wild life down here as well. Incredibly territorial and incredibly large to boot. The largest creature they’ve seen can dwarf the entire station! Its so massive that it could never find its way out of the cavern system. The caves it resides in are too far beneath the trench to explore, but a probe was sent in and never found the bottom. Only the horrifying site of an unknown station. Upon exploration of it, the researchers found scriptures of unknown languages. A sign we have been looking for, a sign of sentient alien life. The unknown station was named “Incognita” and has been probed only twice. The full station has not been explored, as part of it was burrowed into the wall of the cave. Another threat they mentioned, oozing black liquid, an ichor so strong it could stick our whole sub to the side of a building on Earth with only 5 square inches of it. Its so powerful that extraction is next to impossible. They would require a requisitioned Extraction Mech AND have it modded to survive at this depth. To put it lightly, this cave system wants us dead. The Water, wants us dead. The creatures. The rocks. The currents. All of it wants us dead. The final and most foreboding threat they warned us about, the water itself. Its not water. It feels, looks, tastes like water. But its lighter. And on a microbial scale, it too moves upon its own volition. Tiny molecules that sink into the pores of skin and bones. The molecules themselves will expand and connect during expansion. When you swim in the water, you cant come out. They happily gave us a new Depth Suit, only one and not fitted. We boarded our sub and said goodbye. The Crew gave us hugs and we left with a somber farewell. They didnt expect to see us again.

Passing 12,000m, the pressure is off the charts and hard to control. Outside is no longer black, but now gray rocks painted by my light. These rocks moved swiftly. “I thought they said this cave had a wide berth?” I said to the captain. The radio clicked on, “Yeah, I thought so too. I cant remain mad at them though, I wouldn’t want to do constant calculations down here.” He has a point. But, this is a lot smaller than they led us to believe! We barely fit through some caves! The stalactites nearly scraped my window, but they were pointed at a peculiar angle. Odd. Why would they be pointed off to the side? Maybe the ship nudged them.

Passing 15,000m, we were nearing the point of the S.O.S., with enough Oxygen to get us back to the station with an hour to spare and enough fuel to get us to the surface and back, we were all feeling warily confident! The Crew had snuck a pack of Depth Gum for us onto the ship, so we were all feeling more relaxed than normal. Even with our ship barely fitting through some sections. The ship groaned a few metres down, made us all jump out of our seats! It was so loud we thought we scraped against the wall! Turns out the Ballast just kicked some sand from the bed! Our on board engineer screamed “Watch it! We dont want to poke a hole in the ballast, you know that right?” The captain quickly responded “I-I didnt hit it! The sonar didn’t state that the bed was anywhere close to us! We had about a 10 metre difference between the ballast and the sand bed!” “Uh-huh,” the engineer groaned, “just make sure you watch it next time. Please.” “Of course.” The captain wearily said. He looked more confused as he examined the Sonar, I peaked over and saw what was confusing him. The sand bed behind us was now much lower! How can that be? Its solid rock with a pile of sand on it! Thank god we only nicked the sand pile itself!

Passing 17,000m, this cave is by far an anomaly! Nothing we have ever seen before! The cave walls shift! I swear on my life! I told the captain and he said nothing, just a blank stare. Of course, thats a staple of him. He wears drab attire, only his captain coat and hat set him apart from the rest of us. The generic blue captains coat was nothing to scoff at however, for he had a number of badges, all decorated his upper left shoulder. One patch was a commendation of performing 12 missions below 10,000m. This would be his 13th. Another patch showed his military service during The Fall. One for 40 years of service. Finally there was one I hadn’t recognized. A red patch, decorated with a blue rose in the middle with the words “Flos Occidere” encircling it. I know that Patch I just cant put a name to it!

Passing 19,000m, we were approximately 1 hour from the S.O.S. The Captain turned to me, with his dead glare he said “I want you to go in the Suit and investigate the signal.” I was surprised, “Why me?” I asked. He spoke again, this time without tone “I want you to go in the suit and investigate the signal, thats an order.” I quickly responded “Yes sir!”. But something felt off about him. As we descended, the pressure began to stabilize and I asked him “May I go get a drink, sir?” He nodded quietly, eyes fixated on the sonar, which shifted every few minutes. I got up and began my descent into the musty storage, where I picked up a flashlight, a Seal, and a bottle of water. As I turned around the Engineering Chief was behind me, glaring at me with similarly dead eyes. “You got what you need for your dive?” I nodded, shaken by his posture and gaze, “Wait, how did you know I was diving? The captain never sent out a mess-” He turned around and grabbed a handheld sonar and the Dive Suit I was going to wear, “Better get prepared, we are only 500m from the bottom.” then he shoved them all into my arms and slowly walked away. I was trembling, both from that encounter, and the thought that we were already only 500m away from “The Bottom”. Which means either we are descending fast, or the caves shifted again, bringing the Beacon closer to us for some unexplained reason.

20,000m. We stopped just a few meters away from a Derelict, crushed into itself with triangular holes roughly grinded into the body. The scene was horrendous. I was alone in the jettison chamber, in my suit with an hour of oxygen available to me. I booted up my Seal, and it began to whir rapidly. I turned it off to preserve power, and gave a thumbs up to the camera. Voice Comms werent available in this suit, unfortunately, so I was on my own. The chamber opened and a cold wash of liquid cleaned the scuffs off my suit and I was immediately enveloped by the deep black. The ships bow lights were on, illuminated the whole of the wreck. I booted my Seal up again and it tugged me towards the wreck, where its perched flashlight poked into recesses and revealed exploded Oxygen Tanks and cracked glass. After surveying the outside, I wormed my way within through an incredibly large hold, the same triangular holds decorated the rim of it. The steel door ahead of me was covered in that ichor the crew on the station mentioned, so I wasnt getting in through that. Luckily the way the ship was bent showed a smaller hole that gave way to the inside. I barely squeezed through, and before I knew it I was inside the Medical Bay. Only a distorted arm floated towards the ceiling, other than that, the place was empty. I noticed that the door had claw marks on it, something with incredible strength tried to break in. I found the S.O.S. Beacon and turned it off.

As soon as the switch clicked into place, though, the lights from the sub were gone. Replaced by a deafening squeal of metal against stone, similar to that a rumble began beneath my feet! I had to get out of the sub! I clawed my way to a hole and began to tear through the rusted metal with only my hands. Unfortunately, the metal had cut a hole into my glove! I swam out, searching for my Sub, but nothing was there except the dead black! Limitless, I used my seal to chase upwards for a minute and found nothing, not even the cave walls! I felt a current, a pull, the water shifted from behind me! An unknown presence was here! I quickly descended back to the sub, and sheltered myself inside the Medical Bay. I saw something move, something massive! Enormous teeth and a gaping maw! Eventually, it all went black again, my light flickered off so all I could see was black! It came back on again, illuminated a pale figure in the distance, outside the hole in the sub, a massive mouth with hundreds of teeth, all swirling in an oval! It drew closer and closer, until I could see the shine of its teeth! It slammed into the sub, my light flashed off again, and all I could hear were the hideous moans emitted from the sub itself as it conformed to the mouth biting into it. The rumbling began again, god I cant take another cave shift! It continued for minutes on end until grinding to a halt! It was all quiet! My light still didnt work, the battery finally ran out! I felt the rush of the water, the water shifted again! But this time, it was next to me! I reached for my belt and grabbed an emergency flare, I struggled with the tip for a while and fumbled lighting it, until eventually, it snapped to life! And before me, illuminated by the red of my flare, a horrific figure appeared and disappeared again. It looked to have tentacles! I have no idea! I slowly rose to my feet, the whole medical bay was illuminated now, I could see the hole! Instantly I got up and swam out, where I was met with a distant sound that rang through my body. I felt something slowly envelope my leg, and tug me downwards. I let go of the flare and flailed back and forth as the thing grabbing me did! I was hurled into the sand, where I snagged a small pointed rock, which I used to jab into the gripping mass! With one hand I held it, and with the other I punched into the squishy thing with the rock! It let go, and I began to fall deeper. The flare was below me, showcasing a massive cave, something from my deepest nightmares! The walls were flexing and slowly writhing into itself, weaving a horrid shape around me. I continued to fall, feeling the water rush around me, watching the flare as it too fell. The walls began to slowly narrow, until only a small hole, big enough for one person to fit was found. It looked like it was excavated. When I gently landed beside the hole, I picked up the now dying flare. I raised it, nothing was around me! But i felt the water rushing to and fro. I reluctantly hopped into the hole, and slowly descended into it. I fell for what felt like hours, before reaching a small cave with no way out. When I hit the ground, a horrific sound bellowed through the cave. Another groan. The flare died out. I was alone in a crunchy pit. It felt like the floors were made of wood that had been burnt to cinders.

An hour passed, I began crying, watching my Oxygen Supply deplete slowly. Just let me die already. Before me, I saw a small yellow light, it was growing in size! Its the end! I’m free! I jumped to my feet and stammered closer! On my approached I realized, it was something physical. The size of a Walnut, growing, becoming more bright. It began to illuminate something it was hanging on. I moved in for a closer look, my hand outstretched to grab the pulsing seed. Until the seed flashed brightly, and showcased the horror that held it. Long, gangly hands. All its bones were grotesquely lengthened, and a swirling mass of tentacles weaving into a ball laid at its feet. A human skeleton. Its ribcage still loosely intact, and its arms slowly enveloping me. The skull was fully dysmorphic, the upper half of the skull was lengthened with sharp, elongated teeth pointing from the front. Below its jaw hung, barely held to to the skull. From the roof of the mouth, the seed hung. How was it moving? The last thought that crossed my mind. Only to be answered, by the realization of that very black ichor covering the joints and crossing from one bone to another. As its arms closed in, its head moved towards me, and the light began to fade.

#horror story #horror literature #writeblr #writing #writers #creative writing #science fiction #sci fi #Youtube

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thequirkdetective · 4 years ago

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Investigation 4 (12/6/2020): Explosion - Katsuki Bakugou

This investigation will cover the quirk of the most famous/infamous character in the BNHA fandom: Katsuki Bakugou. His ‘explosion’ quirk allows him to “secrete nitro-glycerine-like sweat”[1] from his skin and detonate it at will, and he uses the resultant explosions for direct close-range attack, movement, and illumination. The main detail to be examined therefore is the synthesis of the substance within Bakugou’s body.

To begin with, we’ll look specifically at the compound Nitro-glycerine. It is described by Encyclopaedia Britannica as “a colourless, oily, somewhat toxic liquid having a sweet, burning taste”. How exactly the taste of nitro-glycerine was discovered is not explained, and neither is the dubious use of the word “slightly”, but the entry does describe the exact stages of the decomposition of the molecule. Its extreme instability lies in its high nitrogen content. Diatomic nitrogen molecules form triple covalent bonds, and are thus very stable. Therefore, the nitrogen in its state within the nitro-glycerine molecule is unstable, as it ‘wants’ to form strong, stable triple-bonds. As the nitrogen is released from the molecule, energy is given off as heat, which allows the carbon and hydrogen atoms to react with the oxygen, releasing yet more heat. It is this second step, facilitated by the high oxygen content of the molecule, that makes nitro-glycerine so powerful as an explosive.

The instability of the compound creates difficulty – since it is in such a high energy state, it takes a lot of energy to synthesise. The commercial synthesis of nitro-glycerine involves heated nitric and sulfuric acids, but can be done at home, in an experiment not for the faint of heart (or perhaps the opposite, but we’ll get to that later). The ridiculousness of such an experiment can be summed up by a forum post by an amateur chemist using the phrase “only 65-70% concentrated HNO3 [nitric acid] and 96-98% concentrated H2SO4 [sulfuric acid]”. It’s safe to say that such a reaction is infeasible within biological environments, and most likely any environment without a few dozen blast shields and fume hoods. However, the main pathway is simply the nitration of glycerol, where each of the three hydroxide (OH) groups are replaced with a nitrate (NO3) group, and the mixture of sulfuric and nitric acid only exists to create protonated nitric acid (nitric acid with an additional H+ ion). It is this that reacts with the glycerol in an endothermic reaction, so if the two can be gathered from food then nitro-glycerine can be synthesised within Bakugou’s body.

Glycerol, referred to in the food industry as glycerine, is used as a preservative and sweetener, and as such can be found in a handful of foods, such as dried fruits, soft drinks, and icing. Despite this, the average intake of glycerol per day is rather low. Additionally, I have yet to come across a food containing nitric acid in both high enough quantities to be used for nitro-glycerine production and low enough quantities to be safe, or indeed containing nitric acid at all. The role of nitric acid in the reaction is rather indirect, though, and a safer way to obtain the nitronium (NO2+) ion could be found, specifically via nitric oxide (NO). This compound can be obtained via the ingestion of many foods, including red meat, beetroot, garlic, and dark chocolate. The compound would then bind to a protonated oxide ion, and become the desired nitronium ion.

It is important to note that when explaining his quirk, Bakugou uses the phrase “nitro-glycerine-like”. The pronunciation is ambiguous in the dub (either “secrete nitro-glycerine-like sweat, or “secrete nitro-glycerine like sweat”), but the subtitles reveal the former to be true, and therefore we know that the substance that is produced is not pure nitro-glycerine. Nitro-glycerine, despite the name, is in fact not a nitro compound, but a nitrate ester. These compounds all have the property of explosive, smokeless decomposition, but are again synthesised using nitric acid. The intake of nitric acid is unlikely to be the ingestion of the compound in solution, due to the acid’s tendency to corrode biological tissues. Bakugou’s internal organs have not yet been shown in the anime, but it is safe to assume that he does not internal chemical burns by drinking acid. The issue is therefore one of acquiring the acid (interestingly, passing electricity through moist air creates small amounts of nitric acid, a technique that could be completed with the help of Denki Kaminari) and somehow ingesting it without causing large amounts of corrosive damage to the digestive system. Therefore, the compound would most likely be synthesized rather than ingested in its native form. The synthesis of nitric acid involves the reaction between nitrogen dioxide and water, releasing nitric oxide and nitric acid. This nitric acid can then be reacted with glycerine to produce nitro-glycerine (although glycerine is relatively rare in the body and diet), or an alcohol to produce a corresponding nitrate ester. These esters are all to a certain degree explosive, especially methyl and ethyl nitrate, created with methanol and ethanol, respectively. Since methanol is incredibly toxic to humans (there’s a reason people don’t drink methylated spirits and tell you about it), it can be assumed the substance secreted by Bakugou’s skin is ethyl nitrate (formula C2H5NO3).

Now the exact compound and method of synthesis is known, we can look at some of the possible side-effects of such a quirk. The first, which has been theorised by a few different fans, is the fact that nitro-glycerine is used to treat high blood pressure. At first it may seem that this problem is irrelevant, since it is expressly stated the compound created is not nitro-glycerine, but the treatment works via nitro-glycerine’s decomposition into nitric oxide, catalysed by the enzyme mitochondrial aldehyde dehydrogenase 2. It is then the nitric oxide which causes vasodilation, not the nitro-glycerine. This is a problem due to nitric oxide’s role as a by-product of Bakugou’s production of ethyl nitrate, and thus any of the compound that enters the blood stream would be absorbed by the blood vessels and cause lowered blood pressure. This could become dangerous, as low blood pressure creates dizziness, fatigue, nausea, and in extreme cases, loss of consciousness. Usually, low blood pressure (also known as hypotension) does not need treatment, but chronic hypotension can be treated via medication to alleviate the symptoms.

Another minor issue is the lack of normal sweating. Sweat lowers body temperature by evaporating, taking energy from the skin and cooling it. Ethyl Nitrate would perform similarly to normal sweat in this scenario, with any slight differences in energy change regulated by the amount of ethyl nitrate which is secreted (just like how the amount of sweat people secrete is based on temperature). However, it would make especially sweaty areas of Bakugou’s body dangerously flammable. It should also be noted that only Bakugou’s hands are every depicted as having explosive potential, so either Bakugou only sweats through his hands, leading to incredibly clammy, flammable and dangerous hands in any slightly warm environment, or sweats normally, leading to the possibility of his explosions spreading across his whole body. If he just sweats from his hands, this also explains the disproportionately large frequency and size of explosions he can release.

It hopefully should be rather evident that sweating explosive compounds and causing them to spontaneously detonate on one’s skin is not good for one’s bodily wellbeing. The immediate worry is one of burns from temperature increase. Ethyl Nitrate burns with 1348922 Joules per mole. I can’t find any measure for the average amount of sweat on someone’s hands, but it’s safe to assume it’s only a few ml and so the explosion of jus the residual sweat on Bakugou’s hands wouldn’t do much damage to the skin, since the heat isn’t very high or prolonged. The frequent detonation of small amounts of sweat would at worst cause hardening and callousing of the skin. But what about large quantities of sweat?

One of the largest (and first) uses of Bakugou’s quirk in combat seen is when the gauntlets integrated into his hero costume are used against Deku. They allow the storage and voluntary detonation of large volumes of Bakugou’s sweat, leading to a large explosion with significant offensive capabilities. But as Newton’s third law of motion states, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, a force of equal magnitude to the one exerted on the opponent, but in the opposite direction (along Bakugou’s arm). The magnitude of such a blast could be calculated by estimating the volume of storage in the gauntlet. The gauntlets stretch across the length of Bakugou’s forearms, and have a similar width. If we approximate them to a cylinder of length 30cm (12 inches), and width 20cm (8 inches), the volume of the gauntlets is ~9500cm3. Of course, some of this space is taken up by Bakugou’s arm, so simplifying his arm to a 10cm wide cylinder (to account for some beefy forearms), the volume reduces to ~7000cm3.

Let’s then estimate that 75% of that volume is sweat storage, so the final value for the volume of sweat each gauntlet comes to approx. 5250cm3, or 5.25 litres (1.2 gallons). This amount of liquid would weigh nearly 6kg (13.2lbs), not an easy feat to swing around with one arm, let alone jump and do acrobatics with (but again, we’re observing that Bakugou has some large muscles). We know the detonation of Ethyl Nitrate releases 1348922 Joules per mole, and 5.25 litres of Ethyl Nitrate is the equivalent of 64 moles. Therefore, the explosion of one full gauntlet releases 86.3 MJ of energy, equivalent to 20kg (44lbs) of TNT.

With proper preparation and placement, 1kg of TNT can be used to destroy a small vehicle. The explosions caused by many amateur bombs are equivalent to around 10kg of TNT. It is safe to say that if the entire gauntlet were detonated at once, the building would suffer catastrophic structural damage, most likely leading to at least partial collapse, and both Deku and Bakugou would be immediately killed (its seems All Might may have been on to something here). Although the damage caused by the use of the gauntlet is severe, it does not equate to the detonation of 20kg of TNT, and therefore we can deduce that only a portion of the total capacity of the gauntlet was detonated. The question is, how much?

After examining the many different controlled explosions usefully uploaded to YouTube, I estimate that the explosion Bakugou unleashed in episode 7 equated to roughly 10kg (22lbs) of TNT, or half of the maximum force of one gauntlet. The exact force exerted by the explosion is near impossible to accurately calculate, since the gauntlets direct the blast in a line, the dimensions and material of the corridor are not fully known, and well as many other factors come into play, not to mention I can’t find an equation that includes all of the terms ,corridor dimensions’, ‘material of corridor’, ‘width of gauntlet barrel’ and ‘weight of Bakugou and Deku’. However, we can turn to Newton again to figure out the damage to Bakugou’s arm. It is here we recall Newton’s third law of motion. It means that the force applied to Bakugou is at least the same magnitude as the force applied to Deku, and almost certainly much more since some of the force that would have hit Deku instead goes into destruction of the building. According to the BNHA wiki, Bakugou is 172cm tall, and we can see he is ~2.5 wall-tile-widths from the floor. This means the tiles in the scene are around 69cm wide and tall. Japan uses the metric system for all but traditional craft, and so it is likely the tiles are some round number of centimetres, let’s say 75cm. After the blast travels past and destroys ~35 tiles, 26m or 85ft (this seems rather far away for ‘close quarters’ combat, but here we are), it hits Deku and blasts him backwards, through the door behind him which sits 20 tiles (15m or 50ft) away. The blast is then immediately shown damaging the outer wall of the building, creating a roughly circular hole three windows wide. Afterwards, we see Deku standing in a new room, with the walls now tiled differently, but the width of each tile is the same 75cm when we compare them with the identical floor tiles. This shows us he is 7 tile-widths (5m or 16ft) from the door, having travelled a grand total of 20m (66ft).

The wind speed required to blow the average person off their feet is 45mph, the speed of a significant tropical storm. To work out the force of such a breeze, and thus the minimum force Deku was hit with, we must multiply the surface area of Deku’s body in m2, the wind speed in m/s, and the density of the air in kg/m3, giving us a final measurement of kgm/s2, or Newtons. Substituting in the numbers gives us approximately 50 Newtons of force as a minimum. Assuming this force was exerted over 1 second, we can see that 1 Deku 1m/s isn’t a realistic way to blow through a solid door. Let’s go bigger.

The magnitude of a force in Newtons can be calculated by multiplying the mass of the object the force acts upon and the resultant acceleration of the object due to the force (this is Newton’s Second Law of Motion). Since Deku starts at rest and acceleration is change in velocity over time, his acceleration is simply half his final velocity. The velocity now needs to be measured, which can be done via the approximate momentum need to break down a door.

The Enforcer is a modern battering ram used by the British Police do just that. It weighs 16 kg, and assuming it can be swung at ~15m/s (lets be conservative, Deku doesn’t need any more broken bones) the momentum it carries is 240kgm/s - this can also be understood as exerting a force of 240 Newtons on the door. For Deku to exert the same force, assuming he has an above average body weight[2] of ~75kg, he would have to be travelling at 3.2m/s. Let’s round up to 5m/s to account for his flight through the air and short trip beyond the door, since going at 2.3m/s would keep one airborne for long. This means that he has a force of 45kg × 5m/s acting upon him when hit by the blast, a force of 225 Newtons. Going back to Newton’s Third Law of Motion, this means Bakugou’s arm recoils under at least ~500 Newtons of force, since the blast originates from the gauntlet, (we’re being conservative and saying around 50% of the force missed Deku). Now we must find out the damage that this force would cause.

500 newtons is a lot of force, but it’s not the only thing to keep in mind. Boxers can punch up to 2500N, but the force doesn’t last long, maybe a tenth of a second. The main thing to focus on is impulse, and we can see that punches have an impulse of only 250kgm/s. The explosion force on Bakugou’s arm is applied over a significant time, giving an impressive impulse of ~1500kgm/s, or 6 boxer’s punches at once. The force required to dislocate a shoulder at the deltoid is around 85 Newtons, which means it’s not looking good for Bakugou’s tendons. However, the human shoulder can support a lot of force. People can dead-hang an excess of 100kg for an impressively long time, the equivalent of 980 Newtons (do note that this is in the opposite direction to our scenario, and does not carry a very high impulse). Even with the sudden shock, it’s doubtful that the 500N of recoil would do anything more than a possible dislocation (again, we’ve got serious muscle to take into account), which whilst being immensely painful would not be fatal or irreparable. But since half the force was enough to fling Deku through the air, even with adequate bracing Bakugou would near certainly be accelerated backwards and into the wall only a meter or two behind him, causing severe damage to his back, ribs, limbs, skull, and gauntlets. The headwear and shoulder guards of his costume may absorb some of the impact, but depending on their structural rigidity would probably do more harm than good, especially the sides of the mask which would be rather dangerous at high velocities.

Either way, Bakugou would be quickly propelled backwards, as if standing right next to an explosion of 10kg of TNT (a rather direct parallel) or being hit by 100 golf clubs simultaneously, if he were to unleash half of the possible blast of one of his gauntlets. Firing eve one, let alone both at full power would rival many modern-day chemical explosives, and would certainly be fatal to Bakugou and anyone within a considerable radius.

To conclude, Bakugou’s body uses nitrogen dioxide and water to create nitric acid, which is reacted with ethanol to produce ethyl nitrate. This is the explosive substance that Bakugou sweats, and it facilitates the explosions he can produce. Small amounts of the compound, as present on Bakugou’s skin, could be detonated, but to little effect. However, the storage of the compound allows significant explosive potential, with half of one gauntlet having the rough explosive power of 10kg of TNT, the equivalent of one small conventional bomb.

[1] Season 1 Episode 7: Deku vs Kaachan

[2] Season 1 Episode 3: Roaring Muscles

If you liked this investigation and want to have a say in the next one, then make sure to send a recommendation for which quirk I should investigate!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #tw: bomb #tw: explosives #quirk investigation #bnha analysis

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cdpink25-blog · 4 years ago

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Vivo center Birmingham Reviews

genital tightening Up frequently Asked Question.

Content

Cellulite: What causes Cellulite as Well As exactly How To remove The feared Orange Peel

exactly How Hifu functions.

What Are The conveniences Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

What Can I expect After A Facelift?

The marks will typically be red at first, then purple, and afterwards fade to become paler over 12 to 18 months. Periodically, marks might become broader, thicker, red or agonizing, as well as you might need to have surgical treatment to fix them. If the marks stretch, they can develop a bald strip of hair in the hairline, however this is not usually obvious. Excess skin is then eliminated, and the staying skin is sewn into placement.

youtube

At Illuminate we use CoolSculpting for all fat freezing treatments. CoolSculpting is an entirely non-invasive treatment that freezes away undesirable fat, aiding to contour your body as well as provide you the figure that you want. The therapy is embarked on in clinic with the individual either sitting or lying down. A CoolSculpting applicator is connected to the location of the body being dealt with to ice up away the unwanted fat cells, delivering long-term results.

Your bandages are usually chased regarding one or two days. After the procedure there is generally some swelling, bruising as well as pain.

Cellulite: What creates Cellulite and just How To get Rid Of The dreadful Orange Peel

You will certainly need to avoid showering and also obtaining the plasters damp for the initial 2 days, as well as stay clear of arduous activity, saunas and also massages for a minimum of 2 weeks. It generally takes 2 to 3 hrs, and also the majority of people require to remain in hospital overnight.

How often should you Cryo?

You can get benefits from just one session of cryotherapy, but it's most effective when used regularly. Some athletes use cryotherapy twice a day. Others will go daily for 10 days and then once a month afterwards.

The indicators of an infection are pain, inflammation, swelling and also pus in the injury, as well as you might likewise have a temperature. The scars in the hairline do not generally reveal, but the hair will certainly have been cut much shorter quickly around the wound.

Any type of info sent by means of this web site, will be sent out firmly making use of industry typical secure connections as well as secured and refined according to the needs of the Data Protection Act 1998, as modified once in a while. Required some guidance on a treatment price or reserving a first consultation. You can rest assured that you are in the best of hands for your facelift at Ramsay Health Care, from your first appointment via to recuperation. why not look here are injected into your skin to recover lost volume and also smooth out lines as well as wrinkles. When you prepare to go home we'll offer you advice concerning recouping in your home as well as arrange a follow-up consultation. If you have any kind of fears, you can talk to a member of our medical cosmetic team, day or evening. We also offer a variety of money alternatives to pay for your surgical procedure, including 0% Financing.

exactly How Hifu works.

There may be some slight reduction in hair growth in the holy places, however this is not generally a trouble unless the hair is extremely slim and also several renovations are executed. You might have drainage tubes in your face or neck to recede any type of fluid or blood. These tubes will certainly be taken out when the liquid or blood has actually stopped draining pipes, usually prior to you go house. Cardiac arrest or stroke A heart attack or stroke might be brought on by the pressure surgery places on your heart.

What Are The conveniences Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

The term 'Awesome sculpt' comes from the treatment, which uses cryolipolysis modern technology to shape the body, offering inch loss. This machine is made for medical aesthetic fat decrease treatments by applying sub no temperature levels in a regulated fashion into fat cells, for a prolonged period of time.

Please get in touch with one of our Client Service Advisors or call or discuss your financial choices with among our nurses during your assessment at your neighborhood clinic. You will have your very own individual Registered nurse Counsellor both prior to as well as after your procedure to sustain you and also answer any inquiries you might have. It is advisable to reside your head propped up in the early days as well as avoid bending, raising or abrupt movements of the head. You will certainly be encouraged on when you can wash your hair and this will certainly help to make the elimination of the stitches easier. Although compose can be made use of, it must be well away from the stitches. If you are a cigarette smoker, or take aspirin or any kind of other medicine, your Cosmetic Surgeon will desire to review this with you at your consultation.

We are performing necessary maintenance to our interior booking systems. For information on a procedure, rate enquiry as well as consultation details please full our on the internet query type as well as we will certainly return to you asap. Individuals usually leave the clinic 24-hour after the treatment; however this will depend upon your development and on the surgeon's recommendation. In the very first couple of days after the intervention, it is suggested to sleep on two cushions in order to lower the swelling and to avoid drinking warm drinks or eating excessive, so that the stitches are not impacted. The swelling as well as haematomas will go away over the initial couple of days. If you have any kind of worries after your procedure, talk to a physician or most likely to A&E. Hemorrhaging after surgery can create swelling, a change in colour, and discomfort, generally just on one side.

What Can I anticipate After A Facelift?

Your anaesthetist will certainly recommend medicines for the very first few days after the procedure. Struggling with pain can decrease your healing, so please review any pain with your physicians or nurses.

Today in the UK most guys that are identified with early-stage prostate cancer cells have to select in between a dangerous surgical intervention, Radiotherapy together with Brachytherapy, no therapy in any way, or merely monitoring the illness.

is non-invasive skin tightening and lifting system of the dermis, subcutaneous layer, as well as shallow aponeurotic system.

While i assume the treatment has actually assisted, its still a little prematurely to say just how much.

My skin really feels tighter and looks better, simply wish to see for how long the effects last.

They weren't pushy and answered all my questions and also assisted me make a decision whether to proceed with the treatment sessions.

HIFU is a non-invasive treatment that targets skin tightening as well as fat decrease via application of power to the skin and also underlying cells.

I did look around and also the offer on currently is great worth below.

The regulated air conditioning science is kept for a time in between mins after that the fat cells starts a procedure of natural elimination over a duration of weeks working through the lymphatic system. An amazing, scientific proven modern technology that will certainly deliver amazing results after one therapy.

Recovery issues The edges of the injuries can come apart, especially at the ends of the mark. Usually this problem is resolved by clothing the injuries, however you may need further surgery to remove the tissue that hasn't recovered effectively. Marks There will certainly be marks from the surgical treatment, yet the majority of these will certainly be concealed in the hairline.

Hereafter, you will certainly be required to your room or comfortable area where you can rest and recuperate up until we feel you're ready to go house. After surgery you will be taken from the operating theatre to a recuperation space, where you will certainly come round from anaesthesia under close guidance. Our faces can look older than our body and minds in fact feel. Given that our face states so much about our individuality, this mismatch can effect on our self-confidence, create irritation and also impact our self-esteem. Ramsay Health Care was developed in 1964 and also has grown to come to be an international health center group operating 480 facilities throughout 11 countries, making it among the largest and also most diverse exclusive medical care firms on the planet. Get in touch with your local Ramsay medical facility to reserve a visit or to learn more.

We're The Uk's the Majority Of trusted weight Reduction & cosmetic Surgery service Provider.

Why is cryotherapy so expensive?

What makes cryotherapy so expensive is the cost of the chamber and liquid nitrogen costs. Added to this is the rental cost of the liquid nitrogen tank and the liquid nitrogen itself. Small business owners also have the added cost of payroll for their employees and the building lease.

You will be assessed for the risk of this before your surgical treatment. Allergic reaction Rarely, allergic reactions to tape, stitches or remedies have been reported. If you have an allergic reaction you may need extra treatment. Extrusion This is where deep stitches poke out via the skin.

Your Plastic surgeon will recommend you when you are to cease and/or return to these activities. View our Facelift procedure video clip to see Before as well as After photos and also listen to an individual's story. Spread the expense of treatment with a 10 month passion complimentary individual clinical funding. If you have problems about your care, you should contact the CQC. You ought to speak to the center where the procedure was performed as soon as possible if you have serious pain or any kind of unexpected symptoms. Cosmetic surgery can in some cases go wrong as well as the results might not be what you expected. The specialist should discuss how most likely these dangers as well as complications are, as well as just how they would certainly be treated if they happened.

evaluation assessment.

While Mother earth unavoidably begins the ageing process once again, years later on you will certainly still be looking more youthful than you would have if you hadn't had that facelift. At first your face will look a little puffy and numb as well as might really feel a little bit odd and also rigid however this ought to be short-term.

How many calories do you burn in a cryo session?

One bout of Whole Body Cryotherapy has been shown to burn between 500 and 800 calories. That's a lot of calories that get burned for standing in a tube for 3 minutes! That many calories is equivalent to running for 40-60 minutes at a 10 minute mile pace.

Treatment may be covered by clinical insurance coverage and self pay plans are readily available on demand. Ramsay is dedicated to safeguarding the safety and security of your individual details.

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jamesmakeup4-blog · 4 years ago

Text

What Is Fat Freezing, Does It work, Is It Safe and Does The procedure Make You reduce Weight?

vaginal tightening Up frequently Asked Question.

Content

Cellulite: What triggers Cellulite and how To eliminate The dreaded Orange Peel

how Hifu functions.

What Are The perks Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

What Can I anticipate After A Facelift?

We're The Uk's a Lot Of relied On weight Management & plastic Surgery supplier.

The marks will usually be red in the beginning, then purple, and then discolor to come to be paler over 12 to 18 months. Sometimes, marks may become larger, thicker, red or unpleasant, and also you might need to have surgery to remedy them. If the marks stretch, they can develop a hairless strip of hair in the hairline, however this is not usually obvious. Excess skin is after that removed, and the remaining skin is sewn into position.

youtube

At Illuminate we utilize CoolSculpting for all fat freezing treatments. CoolSculpting is a totally non-invasive treatment that freezes away unwanted fat, assisting to contour your body and also provide you the figure that you desire. The treatment is embarked on in clinic with the client either resting or lying down. A CoolSculpting applicator is attached to the location of the body being dealt with to ice up away the undesirable fat cells, providing long-term outcomes.

How can I reduce my tummy in 7 days?

Additionally, check out these tips for how to burn belly fat in less than a week. 1. Include aerobic exercises in your daily routine. Hifu Facelift Kingston upon Thames . Reduce refined carbs. 3. Add fatty fish to your diet. 4. Start the day with a high protein breakfast. 5. Drink enough water. 6. Reduce your salt intake. 7. Consume soluble fiber.

Your bandages are normally chased regarding 1 or 2 days. After the operation there is usually some swelling, wounding as well as discomfort.

Cellulite: What triggers Cellulite as Well As just How To remove The feared Orange Peel

You will have to avoid showering and getting the bandages damp for the first 2 days, as well as avoid laborious activity, saunas and massage therapies for at least 2 weeks. It normally takes 2 to 3 hrs, as well as the majority of people require to stay in hospital over night.

How often should you Cryo?

The signs of an infection are pain, soreness, swelling and pus in the wound, and you might also have a temperature. The scars in the hairline do not usually reveal, but the hair will certainly have been reduced much shorter right away around the injury.

Does cryotherapy help with cellulite?

Cryotherapy activates collagen production in the skin which repairs broken connections in the skin–thus reducing the appearance of cellulite! In addition to increasing collagen and smoothing out areas of cellulite, cryotherapy reduces fat deposits; fat cells are extremely intolerant of the cold.

Any details sent using this internet site, will certainly be sent safely making use of market standard safe links as well as protected and also refined according to the needs of the Information Protection Act 1998, as changed periodically. Required some guidance on a treatment rate or reserving a first consultation. You can rest assured that you are in the best of hands for your facelift at Ramsay Healthcare, from your very first consultation with to recuperation. Facial fillers are infused into your skin to restore lost quantity and also ravel lines and creases. When you're ready to go house we'll give you advice concerning recouping in the house and prepare a follow-up visit. If you have any type of concerns, you can talk with a member of our scientific cosmetic team, day or evening. We also use a number of finance options to spend for your surgical treatment, consisting of 0% Money.

just How Hifu functions.

There may be some small reduction in hair growth in the holy places, yet this is not generally an issue unless the hair is really thin and numerous facelifts are accomplished. You might have drainage tubes in your face or neck to recede any fluid or blood. These tubes will be taken out when the fluid or blood has actually stopped draining, generally prior to you go house. Heart attack or stroke A cardiac arrest or stroke might be brought on by the strain surgical treatment put on your heart.

What Are The conveniences Of A Facelift?

What Is Hifu Treatment For Body

The term 'Awesome sculpt' originates from the treatment, which makes use of cryolipolysis innovation to shape the body, supplying inch loss. This equipment is made for medical cosmetic fat reduction therapies by using below zero temperature levels in a regulated fashion right into fat cells, for a long term time period.

Please contact among our Customer service Advisors or call or discuss your monetary choices with one of our nurses during your examination at your local facility. You will have your own personal Nurse Counsellor both prior to and also after your procedure to sustain you and also answer any concerns you may have. It is advisable to rest with your head propped up in the very early days and stay clear of bending, lifting or unexpected movements of the head. You will be suggested on when you can wash your hair and also this will aid to make the removal of the stitches easier. Although make up can be utilized, Facelift365 HIFU Islington has to be well away from the stitches. If you are a smoker, or take pain killers or any type of other medicine, your Cosmetic Surgeon will want to discuss this with you at your examination.

We are executing necessary upkeep to our interior reservation systems. For info on a treatment, cost query and consultation information please full our online query form and we will certainly return to you as soon as possible. Patients generally leave the center 24 hr after the treatment; however this will certainly rely on your advancement and also on the surgeon's recommendation. In the initial couple of days after the treatment, it is recommended to rest on 2 pillows in order to reduce the swelling and to prevent alcohol consumption warm beverages or eating way too much, to make sure that the stitches are not affected. The swelling as well as haematomas will certainly go away over the very first few days. If you have any worries after your operation, talk with a physician or most likely to A&E. Bleeding after surgery can cause swelling, an adjustment in colour, and discomfort, usually just on one side.

What Can I anticipate After A Facelift?

Your anaesthetist will suggest painkillers for the initial couple of days after the procedure. Dealing with pain could reduce your recuperation, so please review any kind of pain with your doctors or nurses.

Today in the UK most males that are identified with early-stage prostate cancer cells must pick in between a dangerous medical treatment, Radiotherapy along with Brachytherapy, no therapy at all, or simply keeping track of the illness.

is non-invasive skin tightening and also training system of the dermis, subcutaneous layer, and surface aponeurotic system.

While i believe the treatment has actually aided, its still a little prematurely to claim just how much.

My skin feels tighter as well as looks better, simply intend to see the length of time the effects last.

HIFU is a non-invasive therapy that targets skin tightening as well as fat reduction through application of energy to the skin and underlying tissue.

I did look around and the deal on right now is excellent value here.

The regulated cooling science is maintained for a while in between minutes after that the fat cells begins a process of all-natural removal over a duration of weeks resolving the lymphatic system. A superb, clinical proven modern technology that will certainly deliver superb outcomes after one treatment.

Recovery issues The sides of the wounds can split up, especially at the ends of the scar. Generally this trouble is addressed by clothing the wounds, yet you may require even more surgery to eliminate the tissue that hasn't healed correctly. Marks There will certainly be scars from the surgical treatment, however a lot of these will be hidden in the hairline.

After this, you will certainly be taken to your area or comfy area where you can rest and also recover until we feel you prepare to go home. After surgical treatment you will certainly be extracted from the operating theatre to a recovery space, where you will come round from anaesthesia under close supervision. Our faces can look older than our minds and bodies in fact feel. Given that our face claims so much concerning our individuality, this mismatch can effect on our self-confidence, trigger irritation as well as impact our self-worth. Ramsay Healthcare was developed in 1964 and also has actually expanded to come to be a worldwide healthcare facility group running 480 centers throughout 11 countries, making it among the largest and most diverse personal healthcare firms in the world. Contact your neighborhood Ramsay healthcare facility to book an appointment or for additional information.

Why is cryotherapy so expensive?

You will certainly be analyzed for the risk of this before your surgical procedure. Allergic reaction Rarely, allergic reactions to tape, stitches or options have been reported. If you have an allergic reaction you may require added treatment. Extrusion This is where deep stitches poke out with the skin.

Your Plastic surgeon will encourage you when you are to cease and/or return to these activities. See our Face Lift procedure video clip to see Before as well as After photographs as well as hear a client's story. Spread out the price of therapy with a 10 month passion totally free individual clinical funding. If you have issues concerning your treatment, you ought to call the CQC. You ought to get in touch with the clinic where the procedure was carried out asap if you have severe pain or any unforeseen signs. Cosmetic surgery can in some cases go wrong and the outcomes might not be what you expected. The cosmetic surgeon ought to describe just how likely these risks and also problems are, as well as just how they would certainly be dealt with if they took place.

youtube

review assessment.

While Mother earth inevitably begins the ageing procedure once more, years later on you will still be looking younger than you would certainly have if you had not had that facelift. At first your face will look a little puffy and numb and also could feel a bit odd as well as stiff but this ought to be temporary.

Therapy might be covered by medical insurance and self pay packages are available on demand. Ramsay is dedicated to shielding the safety and security of your personal details.

1 note · View note

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 5 years ago

Text

I finished the first draft of War and Peace. I’m really proud of it, and I’m not sure if I can recommend it without sounding like a grumpy old man, but yeah. I’m just really tired. This is what it sounds like:

I’m in my quarters. I keep the door closed. I am weary. I do not like what I am seeing. I have not seen these rooms before.

My father is in the kitchen, in his fur coat and an overcoat. The guests are cooking. He is a bad cook. He is an old man, with a bad back. He has lost all feeling below the waist. He has a bad cough. His face is an emaciated yellow. He has been to the bathroom. He has not been to the bathroom in days.

He is a haggard, withered old man. What joy he will have, what strength, what glow! Not a speck in his eye. His son has not tasted a healthy meal for many days. Not for many years. He will not have a healthy thought for many days. He is old. He is mad.” He is lucid.” He is pointless.” He is pathetic.” He is jittery.’s. And what does he give to the others, this poor, stupid man, this fickle and forgetful man? He does not even chew the food he chews. He is a mere distraction.

The soup is cold. The guests are too. The guests are taking their places around the dinner table. The soup is a sort of goop, a gelatinous soup that is viscous enough that you can see your breath in it. You have to drink it. It is like having a nose full of water. It is like being full of liquid nitrogen. It is cold. The guests are frozen.’s. What a wonderful sight this is!

What is it to be a lamb, a lamb taken from the fold? The lamb is waiting, gazing at the ground, and the expression on its face is not sheepishness or fear, it is delightedness. The lamb has been stroked and tickled and given a bath. This, too, is a shining image.

What is it to be a human? One has nothing but one’s own back. One has one’s own back and one’s own tongue. I cannot find the strength to even touch them. They are gone, and I am left with nothing, with nothing but the shoulders and the back and the lamb-touched back, with the lamb’s silver gaze and the silver smile and the silver lips. No, not the silver lips. Not the eyes. Nor the tongue. There is nothing. Not a thing.

“Who are you?” asks the lady. “What are you doing here?” "I am Ludmilla Singer,” she says. "And I am in the greatest and most noble of

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thenightnurse · 5 years ago

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Understanding Diabetes

Let’s discus diabetes. More than 30 million Americans have diabetes, and yet most people don’t understand just how serious of a disease it is, or how it exactly works.

Before we begin, let’s clarify that there are many different types if diabetes, from Type 1, Type 2, Gestational Diabetes, prediabetes, and much more. I’ll talk about them later.

Anatomy

Let’s take a look at a few key players; The pancreas, the liver, the kidneys, your blood cells, and well, the rest of your cells lol. Insulin, glucose, ADH hormone. The stomach (breaks down and absorbs food), your muscles (stores and uses glucose)

Physiology

Okay so all foods, once they are broken down, are only one of three things, a carbohydrate molecule, a fat molecule, or a protein molecule. Glucose is a type of carb, a very simple one, and it’s what your body turns all carbs into.

Even though I said glucose is a simple carb (one of the smallest), its still really big, in fact its too large to be absorbed into most cells, like your skeletal muscles (aka most all of the muscles you think of), your fat cells, and your cardiac muscles (your heart). Glucose can however be absorbed by your brain, pancreas, and liver.

So after you eat some carbs, its broken down into glucose. This glucose is now chilling in your blood stream until its taken up into your liver and pancreas. The pancreas realizes that theres a good amount of sugar in the bloodstream and it releases insulin, which allows your muscles and fat cells to use that glucose. Now here’s the part that I personally hate because no one ever explains how insulin lets your body use glucose other than “it works like a key”, but to be fair it doesn’t actually help you to know how, so skip this part if you don’t care to know.

[Ight nerds, so remember how I said earlier that glucose is literally too big to just squeeze into the cells? Well then you must be wondering how does it? Good question. So inside your cells you have these things called hexose transporters, which are some cool yet boring membrane proteins. For the most part they kind of just chill in cytoplasmic vesicles, doing nothing and floating within a cell, but when insulin comes and binds to receptors on the outside of the cell, it basically summons all of the hexose transporters, to which they then join together like a fucking mech from power rangers and attach to the surface of the cell, creating enough space to allow them to be channeled through via facilitated diffusion, which is like passive diffusion (high to low), but through a channel/passageway. When the insulin goes away, voltron disassembles and glucose can no longer just float into the cell. Dope shit.]

Diabetes Pathophysiology

Let’s first discuss type 2 diabetes, since it is the most common type. 90-95% of people with diabetes have this type. At the end of the day, the cause of type two diabetes is Ineffective Insulin use.

Now, what does that mean? Well, it might mean that the body isn’t producing enough insulin, or that the body’s cells aren’t responding to insulin. I’ll give a few examples to help explain.

Let’s say that you wake up and eat a large breakfast of sugary ass cereal and drink a lot of juice. On the way to school or work you have a bar of what is basically sugar, and a cup of coffee. Which is in reality (if you are like me at least), is just liquid sugar and caffeine. For lunch you go and decide to eat a sandwich, which, while it might not be bad, still does have carbs which turn into sugar. You then proceed to have another cup of coffee or soda or something high in sugar. You later have a candy bar as a way of congratulating yourself for getting through the work/school day (honestly, fucking mood, same. lmao) and then for dinner you eat some pasta (again, not innately bad, but because you already had so many carbs it’ll just fuck you up). You also drink some high sugar liquids because you like the taste of it. Then you have another snack before bed. Probably high in sugar.

Well you remember how I previously said that insulin is released by your pancreas when blood sugar levels are high? Yeah well that shit is going to always be fucking high with a diet like that. Eventually the insulin receptors that are just chilling on your cells become fatigued and no longer respond to insulin because they’re just so done with it. Well the pancreas freaks out and decides to release even more insulin to try to compensate, but it will never be able to keep up, but it keeps trying and trying.

That’s basically how type 2 diabetes goes for the majority of people. Now for type 1.

So type 1 diabetes is a lot more rare. Less than 10% of people with diabetes have it. Type 1 diabetes is when your body’s immune system (the thing responsible for fighting infections) decides to attack the cells of the pancreas instead. It’s funny how the things meant to keep us safe can often times hurt us the worst. Ouch. Anyways, the scientific and medical community still aren’t sure what causes the immune system to do so. Some believe it’s due to genes, others believe its caused by viruses, or other environmental factors. More research is coming out every day. Really dope stuff. I guarantee you that the first person to discover the cause will not only quickly become incredibly rich (fuck the bourgeoise though) but will also win the Nobel Peace Prize that year.

Well since the pancreas is no longer functioning, your body is unable to actually use any of the carbs you eat, and since your body kind of needs glucose to live and do anything, you quickly waste away. Before the invention of insulin in 1921, the average life expectancy for someone with type 1 diabetes was only 3 years. Imagine being a parent and bearing a child that quickly just died at 3 years old for reasons you didn’t understand. Terrifying and tragic.

Most people with type 1 diabetes get diagnosed at the age of 14. There are some very telltale signs. So because the cells are unable to actually use the glucose, it kind of just sits in the bloodstream. This puts you at an incredibly high risk for infections, since bacteria will gladly use that sugar and grow rapidly in the bloodstream. Well because of concentration gradients (dude nature really loves conserving energy, I’ll write about it later), the water from within cells decide to leave the cell and enter the bloodstream, to balance out the concentration gradient of the high amount of molecules in the blood. Well on top of that the body really wants to get rid of the high sugar in the blood so it decides to urinate a lot to get rid of it, causing polyuria (poly meaning a lot, and uria meaning piss. So you piss a lot.)

So in your body your kidneys are whats responsible for creating urine, and then it sends it off to the bladder to be stored till you piss it out. Well it works by filtering your blood and then getting rid of stuff it doesn’t need, like sugar, urea (which is the main part of urine, so your body uses proteins a lot, and when proteins are broken down you are left with nitrogen. Well this nitrogen when combined with carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, create urea. Which isn’t healthy for you. That’s why you piss it out ), and toxins like ammonia. Among other stuff.

Normally your kidneys reabsorb the sugars and put it back into your bloodstream, but because you have so much sugar in your blood it’s unable to and instead the glucose goes to your urine. This is why they test your urine for sugar, and why diabetic patients can have urine that smells sweet. In fact old timey ass doctors would even taste your piss because if it was sweet you probably had diabetes. Well due to concentration gradients and your body naturally wanted to go to equilibrium, more water from your cells and body goes to join that urine. Because you are urinating so much, aka polyuria, you become really thirsty since you have no more liquid in your body. Like incredibly thirsty. We call this polydipsia. It’s almost an insatiable thirst.

Well remember how I said your cells are unable to absorb sugar? Well your cells don’t like this and so it tells your brain to become hungry, to make you eat more, so that it can get sugar. But because you are unable to use the sugar no matter what, you stay hungry and continue to starve. This intense hunger is called polyphagia. (poly means a lot, phagia means eating.)

These three form the trinity of signs of diabetes. Polydipsia, Polyuria, and Polyphagua.

There is a fourth sign however. Diabetic Ketoacidosis.

So a question you might have is how do people manage to live for so long if they aren’t able to process sugar? Good question.

They process fats instead.

Okay so this isn’t innately bad. Yay, your body is burning fat, not too bad right? Well. Because someone with DM1 (diabetes mellitus type 1) can only process fats and no carbs, they quickly build up the amount of ketones (whats left when your body processes fats for energy) in the blood, and since ketones are a bit acidic, when they are present en masse they are able to change the pH of your blood.

Other bad things that can happen due to DM1 and Ketoacidosis include having your electrolytes thrown out of wack due to them being urinated out, and with enough potassium gone you can have irregular heart rhythms which is never good. Lets see, due to severe dehydration your kidneys can decide to give up causing kidney failure. Because your body no longer gets rid of waste you can get really sick, and I don’t want to go into depth on that, but just think of all the troubles that can occur in your own house if you never threw out the trash. Tough shit. This is why so many patients with diabetes end up having to go to dialysis. Since they can’t filter their blood, a machine will have to. On top of this, because your fluid levels get thrown out of wack, fluids can actually build up in your lungs which makes it really difficult to breathe, as you can imagine. Basically it all just sucks.

Treatment

So treatment for type 1 diabetes is pretty straight forward, everytime you eat, wake up, go to bed, or feel terrible, you pretty much have to prick your finger, check your blood sugar levels, then give yourself a shot of insulin to compensate and everything works out. It’s very annoying, but something you ultimately have to just live with. And if you live in America then it is incredibly expensive and good luck fam.

For type two diabetics treatments a bit different. For a good amount of people, most people actually, if they were to just have a proper diet, eat less sugars and carbs, and just exercise daily, they would be fine and would be able to go about their days without worrying about diabetes. But this is the modern age we’re talking about and people are lazy sacks of shits and are unwilling to do the bare fucking minimum to ensure they have a good life and so instead we’ve developed a lot of drugs to compensate.

Different drugs do different things. Heres what the main ones do:

Biguanides like metformin or glucophage combat insulin resistance and they decrease hepatic glucose production.

Sulfonylureas work by increasing insulin production from the pancreas.

Meglitinides increase insulin production from the pancreas as well, but these are absorbed much quicker than sulfonylureas which means that they are a lot less likely to cause hypoglycemia.

alpha glucpsidase inhibitors work by decreasing the absorption of carbs in the small intestine.

Theres more drugs but honestly I’ve spent more than 2 hours writing this already and I have to be at the hospital at 6 in the morning and I just want to shower and sleep. I’ll just say this is part 1 and I’ll continue writing about diabetes later on. Like gestational diabetes.

#diabetes #medicine #type 1 diabetes #type 2 diabetes #insulin #nursing #ketoacidosis #dm1 #dm2

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wisdomrays · 5 years ago

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TAFAKKUR: Part 16

Your kidney

In the earlier issues my friends heart and stomach spoke with you and I patiently waited for my turn. I am located at the waist level to the right of the spine and my twin left kidney on the left, on whose behalf I’m also speaking now. We are truly vital organs to you. Before you say “each one of you claims that it’s vital,” let me talk a bit first, and then you decide.

In your body, which is built like a well-functioning factory, I am the most essential sanitary device. As the heart pumps blood to take food and oxygen to all your organs, you obtain the energy you need. But do you ever think about the disposal after so splendid activities are carried out in your body? If you burn a stove, you need to dispose of the smoke and the ashes if you want to keep it working. Likewise, as you burn your calorie intake, you dispose of the smoke (carbon dioxide) with your lungs and the waste with nitrate-poisonous after a certain level of intensity-thanks to my quietly and perfectly working filters. That is, I am an organ which saves your life by removing the poisonous substances in your blood. I do not only filter your blood, but also play a role at controlling the balances of the sensitive levels of water, sugar, amino acids and different minerals in your body. In short, I am a tiny but strategic laboratory.

The acid-base balance in your body and the amount of water and different salts are significant values which concern all of your bodily activities. When their balance is upset, different troubles arise in different units of your bodily mechanism. I am such a blessing, which works so sensitively to adjust the levels of water and mineral salts in your body while you don’t even realize it.

A watery environment is needed for the thousands of biochemical activities taking place in your body. In addition, activities like the contracting of the muscles and transmission of electrical stimuli between your neurons are realized with the presence of a pinch of mineral salt you don’t even give a thought about. Sometimes you sweat due to running or hot weather. The white stains on your shirt are the salts you lose after the water evaporates. When you suffer from diarrhea, you lose salt again, for the salt in the nutrients are thrown out without being absorbed. Especially when little children are concerned, this loss is of vital importance. The transfer between the blood and the liquid in the tissues is mainly realized through the concentration differences which are kept in a certain balance. If your body holds too much water, your tissues swell. You particularly feel it when you press your finger over the flesh near your shins.

I will not list all of my duties in detail in order not to confuse you. However, let me tell you one more. Since not everyone knows this duty of mine, they just see me as an organ of liquid disposal. But I also take part in controlling the blood production! Surprised? Well, I also have the duty of secreting the hormone which stimulates blood production in the bones. I must always stay alert and maintain this balance in the best way; if you start losing blood, for instance, I must increase the hormone and accelerate blood production.

Yes, I’ve told you about a few of my basic duties, but haven’t told you about how wonderfully designed I am. I am a bean-shaped organ and a single kidney like me weighs 130-160 grams on average. We are approximately 10 grams lighter in female bodies. I am surrounded by a soft but protective membrane. I need 35 grams of daily oxygen supply to survive and I use 13 % of your total body energy.

As an army is made up of individual soldiers, I am like a complex army, and a single soldier of mine is called a “nephron,” which does the real job. Thus, you can see me as a body of nephrons. Millions of these nephrons are brought together to make up one kidney.

A single nephron is a thin tubular structure with closed ends, and its length is about 3-4 cm. So the total length of my nephrons is about 50 km. The cup-like sac at the beginning of a nephron is named the “Bowman’s capsule.” The main artery bringing blood to the kidneys branch into smaller units, and one road leads to every nephron. The knot of capillaries (glomerulus) inside this double-walled capsule is more complicated than any road map you might have seen. The total length of the capillaries is nearly 25 km. The unwelcome substances in the blood are passed to the capsule thanks to blood pressure, and they proceed through the tubule. The total surface area of my tubules is about 20 m2. Within five minutes the whole of your blood passes through us. That is to say, an average of 1.2 liters of blood per minute, and 1800 liters a day are filtered by my nephrons, leaving the toxic substances in me. As this amount of blood (nearly 400 times the normal amount in your body) pass through my tubules and return to the veins they leave behind an average of 180 liters of liquid in me. In this case, you could be supposed to throw out 180 liters of urine a day. However, if you really did that, you would neither be able to find a sufficient supply of water nor salt. Fortunately, Providence granted you the mechanism to absorb back nearly 178.5 liters of this filtered substance. This way, the thickened urine throws out the toxic nitrogen-containing byproducts together with a little amount of water. Therefore, I give you back the substances you need with an amount of 1.5 liters of liquid disposal a day. This reabsorbing is realized in what you call the Henle loop. The cells in the walls of my tubules have neither intellect, nor consciousness, nor any knowledge of physiology; in spite of this, they work as if they were perfectly aware of their duty to adjust the amounts and types the substances to be kept or released. To give you an idea, you can think about the huge dialysis machines your engineers design to fulfill the job my tiny tubules do. You decide which one of us is the perfect work of engineering.

A rich network of veins surround the Heinle loop and the reabsorbed substances are released into the bloodstream. The drops to be disposed of are collected and then passed to your bladder. When the liquid in your bladder amounts to a certain value it tightens the bladder walls. The muscles blocking the way out give way and the urine is disposed of. However, know that the bladder has the capacity to expand as large as 1.5 liters when you cannot find the proper time and place.

Most people take for granted the blessings they enjoy. If you visit the nephrology service in a hospital and talk to the patients waiting to be dialyzed, you understand what I mean better. Do not forget that many people who suffer from kidney failure need that huge machine to filter the whole of their blood and they pray for a kidney suitable for transplantation to be found at once.

Incidentally, thinking of chronic kidney failure recalled various reasons which ruin me: long lasting infections, long-term use of certain medicine, different chemicals like ethylene and mercury, heavy loss of blood, high blood pressure, serious burns, and wrong blood transfers etc. In such cases I can receive irreparable damage.

Another issue which troubles me is the formation of kidney stones. The stones which form owing to failures in different metabolic processes really hurt. When excessive decrease of liquids or increases of salts in the body upset my sensitive balance, some dissolved substances remain, begin to collect, and form stones. These stones hinder urine flow and might cause infections. You may drink water abundantly to prevent these stones. Most importantly do not wait too much before going to the toilet. If you excuse me, I also strongly recommend you to urinate in sitting position; this helps emptying your bladder completely and reduces the risk of kidney stones.

I do my job properly until I lose 90 % of my working capacity. When a considerable part of me loses its capacity, the remaining good part boosts its activity to make up for the loss. When one of our twins are taken out with an operation, the other one does not complain at all; it grows a bit bigger and keeps working.

As the nature of honey depends on the nectars bees collect, the ingredients of the urine I produce depend on what’s in your body. Therefore, a urine analysis tells much in the case of illness. For example, I normally do not release valuable substances like glucose and protein in your blood into the urine, but return them to the bloodstream. As my friends cannot fulfill this function in diabetic patients, their urine analyses reveal glucose. As for medicines, I throw them out right away since they are alien substances to me.

You are young and healthy but be careful and do not get cold around the waist, otherwise I might trouble you. There’s a lot to tell you, but I do not want to confuse you. Like any other organ, I do not like being taken for granted and I just wish for you to appreciate what a blessing I am. Let me note that my perfect cooperation with the rest of your body is another wonder in itself. Anyway, the urea in your blood is increasing, so I must go help my twin now.

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