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[aparnarollform]

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Rush Hour

Hey hey! This weekend (Jan 25-26) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters and prompts and I’m spinning the wheel!

Character: Bucky Barnes

Prompt: a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 

Warnings: this drabble includes deceit and dark elements, along with social anxiety. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

You’re lost. You didn’t even want to come in the first place. The mall is a circus of lights and noise and strangers. 

You spin in the sea of shoppers that fill the food court. The smell of food competes in your nose; the strong undercurrent of cinnamon at war with the soy sauce radiating from the noodle kiosk. You clasp onto the sides of your cable knit sweater and stumble as you’re nearly run over by a mother and her stroller. 

You excuse yourself as you step out of her way and receive only a sneer in return. You’re trying to stay out of the way but everywhere you turn, there’s a person or a table or a garbage can overflowing with wrappers. 

You back yourself against one of the tall chair along the curved table across from the popular chain coffee booth. You flick your thumb against the loop on your dyed jeans and try to catch your breath. There’s a map just on the other side of the dining area. 

You peer around as you try to plot a path through. Just do it. You set your arms straight and march forward between the tables. You sweep around as a man with a tray steps ahead of you and continue down the other side. You make a stunted zigzag across the food court toward the beacon of the touch screen map. 

You stop short as a group of middle-aged women butt in and tap it first. The squabble over where to go first as the search bar waits for input. You bounce on your feet impatiently. You take out your phone to text Melody. She’s likely at Sephora, you just need to figure out where that is. 

You key in your message, ‘where are you?’ 

You just asked her to wait while you used the bathroom. That’s it. She couldn’t even do that. She’s too obsessed with taking pictures in all the wall mirrors and trying on everything, even things you can’t afford. 

You wouldn’t be there if your cousin wasn’t getting married. If she didn’t insist on a colour-code. It’s too much. Too fussy. Why can’t you just wear the same old blue dress you always do. It’s not ugly. Simple. Does the trick. 

She doesn’t answer. Not right away. You lower your phone and look up. The women continue to titter before the screen, zooming out on the mask and gasping as they try to figure out where to go. Another argument ensues. 

You’re once more nudged by a passing a shopper. They snarl at you to watch out and you shrink down as you look at your phone again. You can look up the map on the mall website. You’re not very good with maps. The touchscreen will at least tell you where you are. Can they just go find the department store and move? 

You finally find a PDF of the map and spread your fingers to expand. You don’t know where any of these stores are. You check the date in the corner. This is from before the renovations. Ugh. 

You flip back to the conversation with your sister and send a single question mark. Get off your damn Snap and answer. Please. Your nose tingles as your panic swells. You just want to get out of here. You’re going to cry if people don’t stop! 

“Excuse me,” the low timbre makes you flinch and you back away from the man who stands next to you.  

You make yourself as small as you can. “I’m in your way, I’m sorry.” 

“Hm? No, I... I was passing by and you... you look lost. Not to be nosy.” You make yourself look at him, not wanting to be rude. He’s a stranger but he seems helpful. And his eyes are so blue. 

You frown. Is it that obvious that you’re entirely clueless. You shrug, then nod, the drop your chin in defeat. “A little,” you confess. 

“It’s a zoo in here,” he says. “What’re you looking for?” 

“Um,” you hesitate and wet your lips. You peer around. “I don’t know. My sister... hasn’t answered.” 

“Ah, you know, the lump I walked in with went and disappeared too. Said he was grabbing a pretzel but I can’t find him either,” he sniffs and grips his hips in displeasure. “Hate these places.” 

“Me too,” you murmur as you glance down at his leather gloves. It’s not that cold out but you don’t mention it. 

“Marnie, no. Not that way,” one of the older women squalls and taps the screen furiously. 

“Ahem,” the man beside you clears his throat, “she’s waiting for her turn. She’s been waiting.” 

“Excuse you. We have every right to use this map,” a woman faces him with bluster. “So wait your turn.” 

“It’s up that corridor and to the left,” he points. 

“Aren’t you rude?” Another squawks. 

“I’m helping,” he utters dully. “Hey, uh,” he turns to you, “how about we go find another map? Think they might’ve broke this one anyway.” 

“We did not--” 

“Have a good day, ladies,” he gestures you away. You eagerly accept the escape. You don’t like confrontation. 

“There’s one down at the popcorn place,” he says. “I just passed it before Sam ran off.” 

“Sam? It that... a friend?” You wonder. 

“Sure, you can call him that. You said you’re here with your sister?” He guides you away from the lunchtime rush. 

“Yeah. I gotta... get a dress for a wedding. Something pink.” 

“Pink, ah. You’re favourite colour?” 

“Not really.” 

“Ah, right. Big wedding? Doesn’t sound like it’s yours.” 

“No, my cousin,” you explain. 

“Right,” he nods. 

“You probably don’t care.” 

“What makes you think I don’t?” He asks. 

“Well... you don’t know me.” 

“I guess not,” he stops at the map and faces you, “I’m Bucky.” 

“Oh, uh...” you introduce yourself. 

You look at him dumbly, unsure how to proceed. He coughs behind his gloved fist and his brows flick. “So, did your sister answer yet?” 

“Oh, yeah, well...” you check your phone. “I don’t wanna waste any more of your time so I’ll just use this map and figure it out.” 

“Not wasting my time,” he assures. “But if you’re trying to get me to go away, noted.” 

“No, I... no, I’m not. I just...” your phone vibrates and you cringe. You check the screen. “She’s at Therese’s?” 

You turn and tap the screen, typing on the large keyboard. You tap the magnifying glass and the map generates. You hover your finger over the marker that shows where you are then along the highlighted route. 

“That’s all the way on the other side,” he says. 

“Yeah...” you drone. 

“I don’t mind showing you. I came from that way.” 

“No, oh, no. I can’t.” 

“I might run into my buddy,” he shrugs. “You know, lotta people stare when I’m wandering on my own... so you’d be doing me a favour.” 

“I guess... I owe you.” 

His lips curve, just a little, and his cheeks dimple under his dark beard. “Down here then loop around. Won’t have to go back through the food court.” 

You follow him. Your own sense of direction would have you circling for hours. He takes you past the game shop and the organic food place you’ve never been too. You turn down the next corridor, it’s mostly empty. 

“So,” he begins, “you get a plus one to the wedding?” 

“Um, no, I don’t think--” 

As you pass by one of the hallways marked for employees only, he elbows you and you stagger sideways. You’re thrown off balance and hit the wall. He’s so fast you have no time to react. He grips the back of your neck and covers your mouth as he drags you down the hall. 

Your soles bounce off the floor as you flail your arms helplessly. What is he doing? He pinches your nape until your eyes water. 

He shoves you against a door and twists the handle. The metal cracks in his grip and the lock gives to his brute force. He hauls you inside and flips you around against the inside of the door. 

“Doll,” he growls through the dark. “You’re gonna wanna be real quiet for me.” 

He keeps his hand on your mouth, the leather sticking to your lips, and he shifts around. You can’t see much in the tight closet. He closes something around your wrist and you squeak. He hushes you and presses his palm flush to your nose. 

“Hands behind your back for me,” he growls. 

You wriggle and he pushes your head into the door until it throbs. 

“Now.” 

You obey. He reaches behind you and another loop closes around your other wrist. Like a magnet, your hands are wrenched together and lock into place. How did he do that? 

He’s silent as he peels his hand back only to quickly smother you with the other. You feel something cool spread over your lips and insert between your teeth, locking your jaw in place. You quake and kick out. 

He grabs your shoulders and puts them straight. He hisses, “one more time and that’s it.” 

You snivel and stop. He bends and another weight secures your ankles. Ensnared, he leaves you against the wall and backs away. Your tears overflow as you blink into the dim. 

The rustle of fabric and the scuff of his boots undercut the tension. He comes back to you and moves you. He angles you around blindly and lifts you. He forces you into something. You don’t know what it is, only that you’re stuffed down into it, bent up into the confined. Something falls over you, light but enough to bury you further in darkness. 

He wheels you around and the motion makes you dizzy. He opens the door and pushes you out into the light. You peer up at him between the crumpled paper and cans, frightened and restrained, from within the rolling garbage bin.  

His hair is pulled back into a low pony beneath a grey ballcap that matches his janitor’s shirt. He keeps his eyes ahead of him as he pushes you, casually turning out into the mall corridor. He doesn’t flinch as other shoppers pass by, unable to see you beneath the rubbish. 

“Now, doll, don’t you be thinking of trying anything...” he mutters as he keeps his eyes ahead of him. “Those cuffs can only get tighter.” 

[bchan95]

On Tour (Bang Chan x Reader)

You go on tour with Stray Kids and although it can be exhausting, he always comes home to you.

You sigh, leaning back on the bed in tonight's hotel room. It's the same beige walls, uncomfortable bed, and boring cable television, but you ignore all the drab surroundings and pull out your phone.

Opening your Instagram, you click on a user's live and start watching the screen. You hear the familiar sounds of your boyfriend's voice, surrounded by the chaotic noise of drums and guitar. Amidst the fog they appear, seven individuals dressed head to toe in black. As you hear a familiar accent speak, your heart melts.

"What's up Chicagooo!"

You smile, seeing him stroll down that runway like he owned it as the first song began. This is a pattern you're pretty used to at this point. Showering, ordering room service, pulling up a live stream, and watching the boys from afar. Every once in a while, you go over to the venue to watch the show in person, but there are some nights where you just need to be alone. Away from the lights, the fans, the noise...

It wasn't that you hated the tour. It was actually the opposite. You were beyond grateful that you had the luxury to follow your boyfriend on tour for half of the year. Working on your freelance social media marketing virtually as you go. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world. You just loved a bit of alone time too.

It was incredible seeing all of these new cities you'd never been to. Whether you were grabbing gelato in France or visiting Chan's home for a home-cooked meal from his mom, every step had been perfect. It didn't hurt that you had a perfect boyfriend to kiss you in every corner of the world. Capturing it in photos and videos to keep for years.

You ate your ramen off of the tray next to your bed and listened to the livestream. Hours went by in minutes now that you knew the setlist by heart. You screenshotted a few particular moments of Chan and then let your phone sit in its holder above you as you ate. You felt your cheeks warm, not just from the soup but the pride you felt for your man as he gave it his all, as he did every night.

You hear the familiar sounds of the final song and turn over to see the guys waving at the crowd as the curtain falls. You push your hand through your hair as you run to the bathroom. You spray your perfume a bit, run your toothbrush across your mouth, and fluff your hair in the mirror before returning to bed.

You scroll on your phone for a half hour before you hear a familiar knock at the door. You stand and unlatch all three locks he made you promise to lock before he left today.

"We're on a private floor baby... I'll be okay," You said with a giggle as he kissed you for the third time.

He held your face in his hands, running a thumb across your cheek. "I just want to be extra safe, can you do that for me, honey?"

You blush, nodding before he kisses you one more time and disappears out the door.

10 hours later, he's here again, waiting patiently to hear all of them unlock before you press open the door. As soon as it unlatches he pulls it open and rushes inside.

You giggle as sweaty arms wrap around you and kisses are planted on the top of your head. He pulls you closer, lifting your chin with his other hand. He presses his lips to yours harshly, your lips dancing for several minutes before you push against his chest, pulling the two of you apart.

"Chan," you smile widely as you look at his pouting lips. "You have to be exhausted, go shower, and then you can come and kiss me."

He shakes his head, pressing his lips to yours again. "Shower with me."

You giggle, pressing your hands to his chest. "I've already showered."

He grabs your waist tighter, smirking against your lips as he walks you backward toward the bathroom. "I don't care."

You smile wide, following him inside. After 20-30 minutes of washing each other's hair and kissing against the shower wall, your lips are practically stinging. You both re-emerge into the bedroom lightheaded from the steam and each other. Chan scoops you off of your feet and into his arms, and carries you to the bed.

As you reach the mattress, Chan lays you down softly on the pillows. He crawls over you, hands on the surface next to your face on each side. His smile brightly as he lowers himself down to your face again, intertwining his lips with yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks, pressing him in closer. As you part, he leans up to kiss your forehead one more time.

"You make this all worth it, baby."

You couldn't help but pull him down by his collar and kiss his lips again. Nothing felt more right than coming home to him. No matter where in the world you may be.

[coqxettee]

Coquette Winter Gift Guide:

🎀 Gift ideas for yourself or your friends who love the Coquette aesthetic:

Clothes/Fashion:

1. Anything from Brandy Melville (Amara heart lace pyjamas)

2. Bailey bow uggs or normal uggs

3. Ralph Lauren sweaters

4. A ballet wrap

5. Floral pyjama sets, Cami’s & Long sleeve shirts

6. Grandma cardigans

7. A cable knit sweater

8. Legwarmers/pretty tights

9. A pair of cute gloves

10. ANY clothing from “Mymummadeit”

11. ANY clothing from “Favourite child collective”

12. Any clothing from the “Cutey” section on Romwe

13. A dress/anything from “Selkie”

14. Any slogan tee’s / baby tee’s from small businesses and independent brands

15. Victoria secret Pyjamas/Robe

16. Pink puffa coat

17. Tiffany & co earrings or necklace

18. The “Mymummadeit” puffa bag

19. Kate spade heart bag/Vivienne Westwood one or just a heart purse

20. A printed tote bag

21. Ted baker bags/cosmetic bags

22. Any dresses from - Cider, Motel rocks, Pretty little thing, Oh polly

23. A ballet skirt

24. ECOSUSI summer garden romance bags

25. A cape/fur shaul//A glam doll coat

26. Vintage nightgowns/nightwear

27. Cute earmuffs & things to decorate them with

28. Mary Janes & frilly ankle socks

Beauty:

29. Any products from “Glossier”

30. Dior (addict) makeup products (Lip oil’s, Blush, lip balm,

31. Anything from “Flowerknows” “Etude house” “Too faced” or “Charlotte Tilbury” “C beauty mall products”

32. Chanel lipstick

33. A quilted floral coquette makeup bag

34. W7 Tinted kiss lip oil

35. Miss Dior perfume

36. Chanel mamoiselle perfume

37. Any of the Ariana Grande perfumes/body sprays

38. Penhaligons “The favourite”

39. Oriana “Parfums de Marly”

40. Victoria secret body sprays

41. Paul & Joe Cinamoroll collection

Homeware:

42. The Amazon floral bedsheets

43. A heart mirror

44. Love shack fancy homeware items

45. Anything from Paris Hilton’s new cookery line

46. A ballerina/music box jewellery box

47. Pink/Vanilla Yankee candles

48. FreePrints photos to make a wall collage

49. Roccoco style picture frames

50. An angel tray dish

51. Fake flowers

52. Pretty Cushions / A large throw fluffy blanket,

53. Caroline medium jewellery case

54. Fake cake jewellery boxes

55. Tall candles and a candle holder

56. Posters of celebrity’s/artists etc

57. Any pretty art that can be displayed/put into frames

Self care:

58. Spa headbands, and wrist bands (Kylie skin headband)

59. Inn is free skincare products

60. Philosophy shower and skin products

61. Chanel eye patches

62. Mulberry silk eye mask (pink)

63. Look fantastic heartless hair curlers

64. Dior prestige skin products and body lotions

65. Baylis & Harding products

66. Angel tangle brush

67. Charlotte Tilbury skincare gift sets

68. Elasti - cream

69. Embellished claw clips

70. Sol de Janerio body cream

71. Mugs, hand warmers, face masks, lip scrubs

Miscellaneous: ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚

72. AirPod max

73. Wildflower phone cases & airpod cases

74. A pink waterbottle (Stanley or Lululemon)

75. Lana del rey vinyls

76. Coquette notebooks

77. Dior & Chanel fashion books

78. My year of rest and relaxation

79. The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo

80. Jellycats

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

I hope this helped you think of some ideas of things you want to ask or get someone for Christmas 🎀✨🎄

Merry Pinkmas coquette doves

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

[xxang3l-trapxx]

She Likes The Godsmack (And I Like Agent Orange)

summary: Erin being a bi distasteful! Sequel to “Got My Best DJ On the Radio Waves”!

Erin Ulmer doesn’t envy the kids on the richer side of town.

Why should she? They’re all a bunch of stuck up assholes, with their unblended highlights and overpriced Abercrombie clothes and Columbia jackets.

She and the other lower class kids don’t covet those fuckers one bit, when they slash open the bottoms of their already threadbare backpacks, or smack lunch trays out their hands. 

Okay, Erin hasn’t had that happen to her (her height and off putting vibes do the trick); but she’s seen how some of the affected cry, since that’s most likely their only meal for the day. 

To their credit, some of the other-side kids do their best to help out at school service nights, putting together bags of hygiene products and working as candy strippers. 

Jason Wise, Ashley Freund and a few others are recurring helpers. Wendy Christensen is among them. She’s always right alongside Erin when they work together on service nights, and the other girl can’t help but smile at how determined she is to make McKinley slightly less shitty. 

She seemingly shows up to every school event, Erin doesn't know how she has the time to do it all. Case in point, the school’s annual performing arts night.

It’s after the whole ordeal, when her chest is heaving and her hair is a mess, that Wendy comes up to her. 

Erin is engaged in conversation with Ian as he packs up his cello, doing a retrospective on That 70’s Show when she walks up to them.  Ian notices Wendy first, then turns to Erin, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“Es tu novia~” he whispers. She blushes furiously and kicks him in the shin, chastising him.

Wendy and her talk, but if Erin’s being honest, she’s hardly listening, being too focused on the fact that Wendy goddamn Christensen is talking to her. She’s got on a cute top with a low neckline, and Erin prays to every god she can think of that it’s not obvious she’s staring at her boobs.

She only snaps out of her love-sick haze when Ian sees something Wendy said as a slight against her, and he goes on the defensive. 

Goddamnit. For as much as she loves him, he doesn't know when to chill, like he’s some attack dog.

“Dude, chill,” she says, and he obeys, putting away the rest of his sheet music and nudging for her to get up from her seat on the case.

Wendy praises her dancing again, and Erin, deciding to take the plunge, tells her where she dances most of the time. 

The two of them exchange numbers, and Wendy waves at Erin as she leaves the auditorium, nearly tripping on a cable.

It’s just her and Ian in the auditorium now, and a few kids, when he speaks again.

“So she’s gonna see you dance, huh?” He asks, not mad, just surprised.

Erin nods. “Got a problem with that? Take it up with the complaint line,” she shoots back. “I want her to be there.”

Ian slings his cello case onto his back. “Okay, damn. I’m just asking,” he says, and the two of them link arms and out the back entrance.

One thing about Erin Ulmer is that she is nothing if not a dancer. 

There’s something about feeling the base of a song in her very soul, getting all dressed up and twirling around a stage for everyone to admire her that makes her feel seen. Loved. Alive.

It’s the Friday after the performing arts night, and Erin is getting dressed in the back of Ian’s van—putting on the last of her outfit, and they’re making small conversation. There’s long, comfortable silence in between, and she’s lacing up her corset when he speaks again.

“You like Wendy, don’t you,” he states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She nearly chokes.

“Huh? The hell did you say?” Erin asks, throwing open the back door and climbing out.

Ian follows suit. “You like Wendy, and you wanna kiss her, don’t you?”

She blushes. “…maybe.”

“Called it! Now, go wow the girl of your dreams.”

“Oh shut up,” is Erin’s response as she and Ian show their IDs to the bouncer.

Let’s Go To Bed is about to end when the DJ announces her arrival, immediately switching to Blue Monday. This truly is a second home.

Erin gets to work losing herself in the beat, letting her limbs turn to rubber and ignoring the world around her. She pulls the cobwebs, steps over the graves, and does what can only be described as the inflatable tube man.

A few hours in and she needs a break, so she tells Ian and ducks into the dingy little bathroom. As much as she loves the club, a girl can get overwhelmed, and Erin looks at herself in the mirror. Her makeup is still intact, but she looks exhausted. 

“One more dance, and then we’re good to go,” she tells herself, humming the lyrics to Genie In A Bottle.

“I’m surprised you know Christina,” a new voice says.

Wendy is in the bathroom with her, arms crossed and wearing  jeans so low it’s probably impossible to move without everything showing.

Erin nearly jumps a foot in the air. “Jesus, warn a girl when you plan on sitting in a corner all silent!” She exclaims. The other girl laughs.

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw me. But anyways, you know Christina Agueliria?” Wendy asks. 

Erin nods. “I loved her when I was 13.”

“Same.”

The two of them sit in silence. 

“So I finally saw you dance for a second time,” Wendy says, moving to sit on the bathroom sink. “I like how you danced. The music’s not really my scene, but you looked like you had fun. It’s all so natural, how you do it and all that. Did you pop out the womb knowing how to dance like that?”

Erin shrugs, not knowing what to say. “Mami always has the radio going, so I guess so.”

The other girl smiles. “Well why don’t you teach me? I wanna dance like you, none of my other friends really know how to dance.”

Erin’s brain just about short-circuits. Teaching Wendy how to dance requires them to be close, too close, and she’s not sure she can handle that. She can barely handle talking to Wendy without freaking out on the inside.

But then she starts thinking. She’s spent most of her life afraid of taking risks, telling people how she really feels, doing anything she want—

Oh hell, time to make like a Cavalier poet, carpe diem and all that jazz, Erin thinks.

“Yeah,” she says, and it’s like a weight has been removed from her shoulders. “Lemme teach you a few things out on the floor.”

Wendy smiles and follows Erin out of the bathroom. The two of them laugh as they get back out to the floor. 

Ian spots her teaching Wendy, and gives a subtle head nod. She returns the gesture, and resumes her class.

To hell with overstimulation, there are bigger things happening tonight.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Blogger - Big Time Rush & Mason

while this wasn't my favorite ep of the first season i still like how it highlights the leaps the boys' logic gets to sometimes so it was easy to write the mason's into this. i think i'll post BTRides next. i'm really quickly catching up to all my pre-written stuff.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

-------

“Hey guys…why are you hanging out with a garbage can?” Jazz asked, jerking her thumb in its direction. Behind her, her sisters exchanged confused glances as the boys in question all spoke over each other, mumbling something about air ducts, wifi cables, and biscuits.

“Better question!” Kendall’s pointer finger jerked into the air, accompanying the wide-eyed look he shot the guys. It made them all stop talking at once, clasping their hands together in front of them. “Why is Sammi carrying a tray of waffles?”

Mickey and Sammi glanced at each other and then at Kendall, Mickey with an unamused expression on her face to go along with Sammi’s huff and eye roll. “That’s Mickey,” Sammi corrected him, pointing over to her. Kendall let out a small chuckle, an apologetic smile popping a dimple into his cheek. Mickey, in turn, picked up a waffle and tossed it at him. It bounced harmlessly off his chest. “And Uncle Gustavo posted a Scuttlebutt about not liking Belgium.” They stared at her, expressions blank. Heaving a sigh, accompanied with a roll of her eyes, she continued. “The media thinks he hates Belgium so he tried to post another Scuttlebutt with a picture of him with waffles but they weren’t Belgian waffles so he asked—”

“—Yelled at—” Jazz cut in.

“—yelled at her to make Belgian waffles. The studio’s kitchen is too small, so we made a bet with Bitters to use the Palm Wood’s kitchen to make them.”

“According to Katie he’s been making bets all day,” Mel added.

“What’d you bet?” Logan asked.

Jazz shrugged. “That I could guess the number he was thinking between one and ten.”

“What was he thinking?” Carlos asked.

“Seven, duh!” Mel and Jazz said in unison, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“You always go with seven,” Mel added.

The boys nodded and made noises of agreement. It was cut short with Carlos’ loud and prolonged “Mmmm!” causing them all to look at him. His dimpled smile quickly vanished, and his chewing stopped when he noticed them all looking at him. Clutched in his hands was a half-eaten waffle.

“Please tell me you didn’t pick that off the ground,” Logan said, eyes closing in pained dawning.

“Yeah! And it’s so good!” Carlos gushed. He took another large bite of the waffle, his eyes rolling in his head. Mickey’s face lit up and she bounced on her toes, the stacks of waffles wobbling slightly. “Oh my god! Can you make these for us?”

“Wait, I want to try one,” James said. He reached out for the one in Carlos’s hand only to jump and pout when Carlos slapped his hand away. Undeterred, he shrugged and turned to Mickey, reaching out for the stacks she carried. She, too, reached out and slapped his hand away, making him rub the back of his hand and pout even more. “I can’t handle anyone else being mean to me today.”

“You might want to stop rolling around with a garbage can, then,” Mel said. “Y’all’re weird but this is even weird for you.”

“We just…didn’t want to have to carry our towels and sunglasses and flip flops to the pool,” Kendall said with a wave of his hand. When the blue container started to rock from side to side, he rested his elbow on it and his chin upon his fist. “The sunscreen’s not great under pressure.”

Mel squinted. “Since when do you pale-ass boys wear sunscreen?”

“…Since we’re worried about…wrinkling.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest; her tongue poked at her cheek. “I’d believe that if he said it,” she said, lifting her chin in James’ direction.

“And why are you all dressed like…that?” Sammi didn’t bother to hide the disgust in her face or in her voice as she took a step away, as if their fashion choices were going to come to life and attack her. “Did your closets spit up on you?”

“Hey, I think we look good!” James protested.

“You do.” All their eyes swung over to Mickey whose own eyes, wide and round, bounced from face to face before pointing downward as she swayed from side to side, the tip of one doc marten digging and twisting at the concrete around the Palm Woods pool.

James grinned, standing up taller and grasping the lapels of his leather sports-coat. “Thanks for noticing," he said with a wink.

“Did anyone else notice there aren’t any airholes in here?”

The girls all jumped back at the voice, huddling together. Mickey pushed Jazz forward by a shoulder, earning a glare from her older sister. Huffing, Jazz shuffled back to the trash can and gave it a swift kick, jumping back again when a sound of pain came from it.

“Okay, start talking!” Jazz demanded.

The boys all spoke at once, talking over one another as they explained how Deke was going to write a blog post about spending the day with them, how it would make or break their careers, and how they needed a good endorsement for their album coming out. By the time they finished talking the girls looked as if they’d just been told clouds were made of spaghetti.

“You locked him in a closet!?” Jazz asked, incredulous cracking her voice.

“I’m stuck on chasing him through the air ducts,” Mel said, dragging a hand down her face.

“It’s the trash can for me,” Sammi said, pressing a finger to her temple.

“Look! We can’t let him out or anywhere near wifi or he’ll put the blog post online or we’re done! We got desperate!” Carlos cried out. Little bits of chewed up food fell out of his mouth, landing in a wet heap by his feet.

“You’re way past desperate, honey.”

“Can you guys help us out?” Kendall asked.

Sammi scoffed. “So we can get more than you for aiding and abetting?” Shaking her head, her curls bounced from side-to-side. “Nuh-uh, no way! I aint goin’ down like that.” She crossed her arms and muttered “white boy nonsense” beneath her breath.

“Just think, you’d be the prettiest one in jail,” Jazz commented.

Sammi scoffed, fluffing her hair. “I’m the prettiest one in general, but thanks.”

“I guess we’re your ugly stepsisters then?”

Sammi blinked. “We’re not stepsisters.”

“Well!”

“Guys! Focus!” Mel said, waving her hands. “Okay, let’s get the guy out of the trash can and—”

“No!” the guys all yelled.

“At least let us try to talk to him! We’ll tell him how you guys are just…anxious getting your music out and how you just want all your efforts to be worth it,” Jazz said. “You just want everything to go perfectly and…for the world to see what you’re capable of and how much you put your hearts into it.”

“I think that’s the first honest thing I’ve heard any of you say!” Deke’s muffled voice seeped through the thick blue plastic.

Kendall spared the garbage can a glance. “And if that doesn’t work?” he asked.

Jazz hummed, looking around, until her eyes zeroed in on the tray in Mickey’s hands. “Well…we can bribe him with waffles.”

“…Waffles?” Deke repeated, curiosity seeping into his voice.

“Yeah!” Jazz leaned over the garbage can, speaking directly to the lid. “We’ll let you out and give you a waffle as long as you promise not to take off. Got it?”

“…Got it.”

“Okay, let him out.”

Mouth twisting to the side, Kendall unlocked the latch on the garbage can. The lid flung open in a smooth arc and out popped Deke, cheeks red, hair mussed, and a deep frown on his face. He cast a suspicious look around at all of them and uttered, “Okay, where’s my waffle?”

Jazz grabbed one off the top of the pile and all but shoved it into Deke’s mouth. He took a large bite and chewed then he shrugged. “Eh…I’ve had better.”

The corner of Mickey’s lips twitched upwards, mimicking the twitch in one of her eyes. Her fingers gripped the tray, her tan skin turning a light beige in at the efforts. With one hand, she removed the plate from the tray and held it out to Sammi, completing the smooth motion without once taking her eyes off Deke. Her chest puffed up with the force of her inhale and she let it out slowly, her smile then turning eerily pleasant. And the smile, still so pleasant, remained on her face as she reared her arms back and charged forward.

“No no no no no!”

James lunged forward, looping his arms around her waist, easily lifting her kicking form off the ground amidst the screaming of protest from their friends. Her head jerked from side to side in an effort to get her dreads out of her face, spitting a loc away from her mouth every now and then.

“Everybody just…calm! Down!” Kendall yelled, waving his hands in the air, green eyes wide and wild. All commotion ceased, even around the rest of the Palm Woods pool. Even one guy at the edge, having frozen himself in a half-squatting, half-leaping position, looking very much like a stick figure on a crosswalk sign. “Heh…sorry!” Kendall called out. “We’re rehearsing for a play!”

“Okay dude—” Jazz said.

“Deke,” Deke corrected her.

“Bless you. You got your waffle, now you get to talkin’. Capiche?”

“Threatening. Great.” Logan let out a very strained laugh, his grin tight. “Might as well add that to the list of this horrible day.”

“it’s not entirely horrible,” James said.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well, I still look good.” James motioned to himself and winked Logan’s way. As Logan rolled his eyes, James adjusted Mickey who hung dangling over his shoulder, her mouth drawn up into an angry pout then he took a bite of a waffle and said out the corner of his mouth, “And these are great.”

[thebonegoop]

Summer Memories

Sitting down as I write this; I can hear the splashes of water from children making cannonballs in the neighbor's pool and the subsequent banshee-like screams of a pack of now-drenched mothers yelling at their kids. I'm also sneezing gunk like I'm having a demon exorcised from my body (The Zelda Rubinstein way, of course).  

You may be asking yourself right now - Lincoln, what does that have anything to do with this post?  Well, my dear Watson, it means summer we are just beginning another summer! So, for the inaugural post of The Bone Goop, I'll discuss eight great summer memories!  

#1: Ice Cream Trucks

Okay, okay – Maybe I never had a traditional Ice Cream truck come down to my town – so sue me. I was raised in – said in my best George Burns Voice – God's Country—a place forgotten by all who didn't dwell there. But like an oasis in the desert, we did have one truck that came around town once a month - THE SCHWAN'S TRUCK. While serving primarily to adults looking for overpriced frozen steaks and vegetables, they did sell a minor assortment of ice cream goods. Let me tell you, orange cream push pops never tasted so good as when I bought one from the Schwan's man. He dressed in all white like Reggie from PHANTASM and would sometimes take pity on poor country kids by putting in an extra push pop for us to fight over like wild dogs.

#2: Summer Minutiae 

I'm a big fan of waxing poetically about life, so only I could think back so nostalgically about the utter boredom summer can bring as a kid. We all remember the highs that summer can bring, but there is also beauty in the lows. While I'd take riding bikes with my friends any day, many summers were spent alone, bored in my mother's backyard garden, watching fish in the pond or imagining a safari adventure through her overgrown Pampas grass.

And if one was truly bored in the summer heat, find the closest slab of concrete and a bucket of chalk and spend your day expressing the inner Ar·teest inside of you.

#3: Water Parks! 

I have a confession – I've almost drowned twice while visiting these water-themed wonderlands. I was 11 and full of youthful confidence in my swimming abilities as I stepped foot in Lexington's Pirate-themed water park during a trip with my best friend. That was until I was pinned underwater by a giant plastic riding Crocodile like I was in a Wrestling Federation match. It takes real love to enjoy something that tries to kill you.

#4: Sleepovers

As a kid, one of the best things about summer was the Sleepover with your buddies. A one-night no-holds bar contest of wills - fueled by junk food, movies, and chaos. We had it down to a science: Blanket forts, Hot Pockets on tap, Gameboy Colors holstered in our pockets ready with Pokémon (complete with link cables), and maybe most importantly the tape rentals. Setting the mood for the night was imperative, so finding the perfect movie was the priority. STAR WARS or JURASSIC PARK were the faithful standbys, but the best nights were when someone smuggled a VHS TV recording of ROBOCOP and HALLOWEEN. It was like sneaking contraband through airport security.

#5: Jackass

While the show was watched under cloak and dagger at night, my friends and I would often recreate the extraordinary stunts we saw during the day. Johnny Knoxville had a shopping cart, but we had a Big Wheel and trashcans! Hot summer days were spent building ramps up coal piles and flying off in terror. Hi, I'm Lincoln, and this is Jackass!

#6: Calling Your Bluff

Many of my formative summer years were spent at my neighbor's kitchen table playing various card games like Canasta and Poker or Scrabble. We didn't have air conditioning, so they'd make Kool-Aid pops out of plastic ice trays wrapped in plastic with toothpicks poking into each cube. These were MacGyver: The Adolescent Years.

#7: Yard Sales

Summer is Flea Market season, Baby! Truthfully, I don't make the time for Yard Sales like I used to, but rummaging through other people's trash was like second nature as a kid. So, it was even more devastating that my mom once went without me while I stayed with my grandparents.

The fogs of memory preclude me from knowing why, but I remember being extra grumpy about life while she was gone. The childhood vitriol melted instantly when she picked me up, and I saw the treasures she'd bought me – a pristine RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK VHS tape and a MONSTER IN MY POCKET figure!

#8: It's Good to Be King

Summer wasn't summer if it didn't include one trip to King's Island - the Ohio amusement park made of dreams and overworked costumed employees. At the time, every ride and character were made to resemble Hanna-Barbera properties. Having lunch with your partner is great, but having lunch with Scooby Doo AND Space Ghost? On top of riding roller coasters? That was pure magic.

The night was complete only if I bought a blue Candy Rock stick for the ride home. It was the perfect day (Ignore that everyone but me got Pinkeye on that trip.)

I hope these memories stirred up some of your own about the magic of Summer. Thanks!! 

[thoughtsandbones]

The way you ease my trepidation

Kyle 'Gaz" Garrick x F! Black OC (Clarissa Edwards)

Because I keep seeing posts on people excluding our guy Gaz who's LITERALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER YOU PLAY IN MWI and MWII!!!!!

The storyline follows my main fanfic from Part 15 II - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!MedicDoc OC (codename: Blue) 💀💙

WARNINGS: Profanity, fluff, medical inaccuracies (because all my knowledge regarding medicine comes from Grey's Anatomy and that one stint I did as a first aider)

A/N: This is my first time writing a black character, I've heavily used @writingwithcolor as a guide to ensure I am doing my best to represent the characters. Please do let me know if there are any issues!

Song inspo: 'No Blame' - Christina Chong, Move - Milo Greene, Maan Meri Jaan - King and Nick Jonas, Phantom Studies - Marcel Dettmann and Ben Klock

As Kyle made his way to the RAMC building, Soap's voice echoed in his head.

"Can't feel my legs"

"Lt I'm not gonna make it"

He tightened the grip he had on his vest that he still had not taken off, tainted with Soap's blood when helped Ghost with packing the cellox into the gunshot. Checking his watch it was 12:15pm.

Doc should be done by now he thought to himself as he walked through the double doors, walking past all the medical personnel and straight to reception.

He was met by an empty desk, and looking around the wards he could not see the Doctor nor any other authority figure. Kyle slid his hand into his back pocket retrieving his keycard.

The ambush from AQ when they were in Al Mazrah was something they had not expected, especially not with the kind of hardware they were carrying. State of the art machine guns, snipers, RPGs and up armoured vehicles. All this reeked of Makarov's doing.

Squeezing his fist tighter at the thought of Makarov's smug face made his blood boil. He smacked the reception desk hoping to release some of his built up anger, but it didn't help.

It was then he noticed the big whiteboard behind the desk on the wall and moved closer to it, scanning down the list of patient names until he found John MacTavish, his eyes slid across the row and saw Dr Hari Kaur and Dr Peyton Marie as surgeons assisted by Nurse Clarissa Edwards, Nurse Jenny Mao and Nurse Mikey Way. He then saw he was in the ICU bed 12. Looking down at his all-access keycard, Kyle grinned slightly and made his way to the double doors where the sign pointed ICU.

Once he arrived at the ICU, Kyle made his way to bed 12. There he saw Soap, laying on his back, eyes still closed and intubated. Cables where attached to Soap which were connected to the machines surrounding him, beeping rhythmically. The pipe coming out of his mouth was so unnatural an uneasy sick feeling settled in Kyle's stomach as he stepped closer.

"Soap?" He said, hoping that somehow the Scotsman could hear him and wake-up.

But no answer.

"Jesus" He whispered as he rested his hands against the bed where Soap laid. "You gotta wake up mate" He said nudging his left hand slightly.

Still no response.

Kyle sighed and closed his eyes, running his calloused hands through his hair and scratching the nape of his neck.

"Excuse me, what are you doing in here?" A voice behind him said sharply. Kyle turned, his eyes met a nurse dressed in baby pink scrubs that made her deep sepia skin glow, there was a green stethoscope wrapped around her neck that was crowned by black braids that swayed as she moved closer to him. In her hands she carried a tray with a big bag of liquid with a long thin pipe coming out of it.

"Err.. came here to see Soap" Kyle said, trying to remain cool, straightening up to appear more authoritative

"Dr Marie said I could see him" he lied, hoping she won't pester him...

"Really?" She said, her brown eyes widening, a grin appeared on her face. "When did you speak to her?" She asked moving over to Soap setting aside the tray on the overbed table, and then checked his charts that was in the folder hanging on the end of the bed near his feet.

Kyle cleared his throat. Gotta bullshit my way out of this he thought

"Few minutes ago in reception" He said, smiling at the nurse, trying to look at her keycard to identify her.

The nurse looked up from the chart and at Kyle, and raised her left eyebrow.

"Now, that's a lie as Dr Marie is currently snoring her head off in the on call room."

A wave of guilt and anxiety rushed over Kyle as he was rumbled.

"Err-" Kyle stuttered as he looked around the ICU, shifting his weight before looking back at the nurse who was still giving him a cautious look.

"I'm sorry I lied, just needed to make sure he was okay" Kyle admitted, looking back at Soap.

The nurse slightly relaxed, putting away the charts back in the folder and looked at Kyle as he gazed upon Soap. Her gaze met his and his eyes wandered back to her, she gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Alright, five more minutes, I need to give him some meds so you can stay here with me." She sighed moving towards the alcohol gel dispenser, squirting the foam on her hands before rubbing them together.

"Thanks Doc" Kyle said grinning at her

The nurse laughed "I'm nurse Clarissa Edwards, not a doctor" She said "Doctors wear blue scrubs, nurses wear pink or green" She added putting on a pair of pale blue gloves.

"Ah okay, that makes sense" Kyle said, now remembering Dr Kaur always wearing blue scrubs "It's nice to meet you Clarissa, I'm Sergeant Kyle Garrick"

"Nice to meet you too Sergeant" Clarissa said, giving him a big smile. Kyle watched as she moved over to the tray on the overbed table, grabbing the IV bag and hooking it onto the IV stand, and then moved to Soap's right hand, taking the stopper out of the cannula on the front of his hand, inserting a syringe with saline to flush the cannula.

"What's that you doin'?" Kyle asked curiously, peeking over to see what Clarissa was doing

"Just doing a saline flush, making sure any residual medicine is pushed into his vein, and prevents infection." She said, briefly looking over at Kyle's curious face.

"Ah I see" Kyle says "Did the operation go well?" He asked

Clarissa looked up. It was natural and normal for fellow soldiers to be perplexed about medical procedures, especially when their teammates were involved.

"The op went well, Dr Kaur and Dr Marie did their best" She said, not taking her eyes off the cannula as she attached the line of the IV bag.

Kyle hesisted a bit, his left leg began to shake rapidly, the heel of his boot making a rapid tapping sound against the vinyl floor. Clarissa looked down at his foot and then back up to Kyle's concerned face, sensing the oncoming trepidation.

"He got shot in the back" Kyle blurted without thinking, looking at Clarissa, who narrowed her eyes and then returned to the cannula, using an alcohol wipe to clear up the dirt between Soap's fingers.

Kyle wanted to smack his head against the wall. Stupid thing to say, of course she knew that he thought, turning away from Clarissa he rolled his eyes and brought his right hand to his face, running his forefinger and thumb across his brows.

Clarissa took her gloves off, and took a deep breathe in through the nose before exhaling through her mouth.

"The bullet was removed, there was a bit of nerve damage, but Dr Kaur did a neural graft. We won't know the full extent of any damages until he wakes up" She said to Kyle who still had his back to her.

Kyle turned back around

"He said he couldn't feel his legs on the helo" Kyle said, eyes glazed with tears as his mind took him back to the moment in the helo when Soap said those exact words to them.

Clarissa moved away from Soap and then walked around the bed, facing directly towards Kyle.

"You and your team did the best you could, the cellox was a great call, it definitely saved his life" She said, placing her hand on Kyle's shoulder.

Kyle felt a ripple of warmth wash over him as she placed her hand on him, he gazed at Clarissa, who smiled at him, he was struck by her striking beauty and kindness.

"It will take time, at the moment, it is a bit too early as he needs rest to aid recovery" Clarissa stated, smiling at Kyle. "We are keeping an eye on him, and we have the best doctors and nurses around in case anything happens" She added

Kyle's anxiety eased as she continued to reassure him that Soap would be okay.

"I suggest you also get some rest Kyle, I'll give you a call when he wakes up" She said

The continued reassurance and smiles that Clarissa gave him additional comfort. Kyle felt at ease.

"Thanks Clarissa, I'm sorry for barging in and lying" He said, looking guiltily at her

Clarissa laughed and smiled broadly which made Kyle's heart flutter as she gently tapped him on the the shoulder.

"Better get going, don't want to get in trouble" She said

"Ah I won't get in trouble don't worry" He said smiling back as he headed towards the door.

"Not worried about you! I'm saying me! Only authorised personnel are allowed in the ICU, especially not those covered in blood and dirt... no offence" Clarissa said, winking Kyle.

"Shit," Kyle said, realising he dragged his dirty combat boots into the ICU, breaking the clean protocol, he hurried to the door and opened the door, allowing Clarissa to walk through first who had whispered a thank you to him as she passed.

They walked out down the corridor back towards a now busy reception area.

Kyle turned to Clarissa who moved behind the reception desk, grabbing a whiteboard pen before scribbling the names of medicine and time administered on the row where Soap's name was. She turned towards Kyle who was still standing by reception.

"Thanks again Clarissa, you were really helpful" He said, smiling back.

"No problem Kyle, I promise to call you when he wakes up and when I get proper authorisation from either Dr Marie or Dr Kaur" She said, laughing slightly as Kyle widened his eyes at the mention of Dr Marie.

"You won't tell her-" He began

Clarissa's eyes widened and she shook her head as she noticed Dr Jones walk in behind Kyle.

"Clarissa, I need you to check on Miles in ward 3" He said not making any eye contact with her and moved towards the board.

"Yes sir" She said looking at him cautiously as he scanned the board "I'll speak to you later Kyle" She said finally before walking off. Kyle watched on as she walked off

"Bye Clarissa!" He yelled at her and laughed as she turned and gave him another wink.

Kyle walked back out the doors of the RAMC and basked in the sun that shone down on base. Relief washed over him as he took a big inhale through the nose. Checking his watching it was 1:36pm, he had been up for over 24 hours, and decided to take Clarissa's advice of getting some well deserved rest as he headed back to his quarters.

He hoped to see that dazzling smile soon.

[blubushie]

Question for you: how do you go about transporting a kill back to Matilda? I’m curious about how a roo would be quartered/split up, if their hides are any good for leather, what you do with the guts and bones, etc. Basically, what happens after you make a kill? -🐟

So first and foremost, Jack owns the roo ute we use for this. It has a "rack" in the tray what we use for hanging the roos and dressing them. For the sake of this and the fact you mentioned Matilda specifically, I'm going to explain how this works for a non-commercial hunt. Here's a video of how it works commercially if you want to see that.

This is a gambrel.

The hooks on mine are sharpened for better penetration. They go in the hocks and snag at the Achilles' tendon, like this.

So the first thing I do is hunt the roo.

I drive Matilda as close as I can get to the carcass. Sometimes I'm far enough out into the bush that this isn't possible, so I'm stuck lugging ~60kg/130lbs of dead weight through the bush back to Matilda. If I think this is going to take more than an hour, I field-dress the carcass on the spot to avoid any bacteria what might be in him spoiling the meat. Roos weigh a lot less without their guts and stuff, but the downside of field dressing is that I get completely covered in blood dragging it back because I basically piggyback the roo on my shoulders (both front legs go over my shoulders and cross at the wrists over my throat, I tie them with rope and wear the roo like a cape as a I hump it back).

I'm writing this assuming I haven't already field-dressed the roo.

Once at Matilda, I find a good tree that looks sturdy and I set up the gambrel. I snag the gambrel in the roo's hocks and use a pulley system to bring him up off the ground like this.

Once that's done and he's hanging upside-down, it's time to get to work.

I take my KA-BAR and start cutting around his throat. I use a sawing motion (I keep my knives sharp) until I hit the vertebrae. I make my way around the neck until the vertebrae is the only thing keeping his head attached. Once that's done I bring him up so that I'm waist-level with the semi-decapitated head. I get my machete, line it up, and swing. Usually it only takes one swing to either break or cut through the vertebrae. Rarely it takes two. I've never had to make a third.

I grab the head by the ears and chuck it into the bushes. I don't like looking at it. I repeat the same process with the tail. Cut, align, whack. The tail is left for Misty to chew on. Keeps her from trying to get into the viscera.

The machete gets put away for now.

Next I get the hopper choppers--a pair of cable cutters. I dock off the hind legs above the Achilles and the front legs at the elbows.

I use a gutting knife, like this. The hook is important.

I take my gutting knife, start at his knackers or her package, and start cutting in. I keep it shallow so I don't nick the bladder. Once I can get two fingers (right hand) in him and the knackers are removed, I put the blade between my pointer and middle fingers (still right hand) and snag the hook in him and slowly pull down like I'm unzipping him. The viscera comes tumbling out. I lower the roo so the stump of the neck almost touches the ground. I take the machete, align it with the bottom of the sternum, lay my shin over it, and use my body weight to cut downward. This cuts through the sternum and into his throat. Most of the viscera hits the ground at this point and I use the gutting knife to detach the intestines from the anus, then cut through the anus and downward until the cut meets where I've already carved. I make my way down the back wall of the body cavity along the spine, cutting the rest of the intestines, lungs, and heart free. This is the bloodiest part of the whole deal and usually the point when I get splattered.

The insides of bodies smell weird. Raw. I can't describe it.

The skin comes off next. I make a ring along the hocks and cut down, thigh-to-thigh, until I reach the groin. For this I use the tip of my gutting knife, since it's also a skinning knife. I work the skin on both legs free until I reach the arse, and then I pull downward. The skin peels off. It feels like peeling orange and sounds similar. If the roo is a real big bloke with skin that won't separate easily, sometimes I'll use a piece of rope to knot the hide and then tie that onto the hitch of Matilda and floor it.

It should come off in one piece, and I inspect the carcass to make sure it comes off in one piece.

When it comes to a commercial harvest, all I do it dock the legs, head, and field dress. I don't skin. That's the butcher's job. I quarter carcasses the way Jack does, which consists of treating it the same way I would a pig carcass.

I get my esky.

I take his foreleg, stretch it out, and use the KA-BAR to cut through the foreleg, around the shoulder, and separate it from the body. It goes into the esky. I repeat the process with the other leg. Then I take my knife and start under the hindquarters and come down the side, I grab the muscle here, and pull as I cut away along the spine. That's the backstrap. Goes in the esky. Next is the tenderloin. I cut down the inside cavity along the spine, grab the muscle, and cut it free. Goes in the esky. I take the machete, grab the ribs, and start hacking like I'm hammering a nail to separate them from the spine. Goes in the esky. Then I use the KA-BAR to separate the legs from the spine, and they go in the esky. After that I'm done and it's just a matter of cutting individual pieces of meat whenever I'm ready to make dinner. I'll wash off my hands, wash the meat and put it in the fridge/freezer, have a beer and maybe a smoke, and relax for the evening. I usually cook the tenderloins first since that's my favourite piece of meat on a roo. They cook fast and you have to eat them rare. Kangaroo meat doesn't withstand cooking to medium. Sometimes I'll use a skillet but in my experience they're best over a campfire on a grill. The wood smoke adds to the flavour.

The hide, guts, and head gets left behind for scavengers since it's no use to me. Very rarely I'll buy a fuckton of salt and lay the hide out and flesh it (scraping it with the skinning knife to remove any meat). Then I rub salt on it, roll it up, and shove it in a rubbish bag. I give the hides to Jack. Misty gets to chew on any stray bones, and I dock the tip of the tail, skin it, and give it to her as a treat which she loves.

And yes, kangaroo leather is great! It's ten times as strong as cow hide and my hat is actually made of kangaroo leather (except for the band which is 100% crocodile). Misty's lead is also made of braided kangaroo leather for added strength/durability. My vest, boots, most of my sheaths, and my quiver are all made of kangaroo leather.

[pentag]

🟣🟠Multiverstar Modded - Update 3.0: Forming of the Fleet - Now live! (+ Quick Start update)

The mod pack has been updated

All of the newly added mods are now included in Multiverstar Modded Mod pack . Please update your local mod pack by pressing “Subscribe to all” before connecting to the server!

Update notes

New expansion

New playable species

Alta

Arachne

Indix

Kobold

Kyterrans

Lastree

Mannikin

Nightars

NostOS

Ryophi

Skelekin

Squamaeft

New character creation options

More Idle poses

Bright Orcana Colors

Bunnykin Pastel Colours ADD

Vibrant Colours for Bunnykin ADD

Arcana's Human Hairstyle

Arcana's Aegi Hairstyle

Arcana's Kitsune Hairstyle

More Slime Hairs (Only Add)

New Avali content

Avali Plus

Avali Augments And Assorments: Revisited

Better Ships - Avali Walls

Avali mannequin

New clothing and armor mods

Dresses n Skirts Pack

Suits n Stuff Pack

Scientist Outfit Pack

Skittle's Christmas Goodies

Wings and Things

New Protectorate Gear

Expanded Protectorate Gear

Tacticool Gear Pack

HOUND Fashion 0.9.3

New wigs

Skittles Ultimate Wig Pack

Empress Wigs - ANY VERSION

Demon Horns Wig Variations and Hairstyle

Cyberpunk Stylist (Wigs & Hairstyles)

New weapon mods

Expanded Magnorbs

Swords Unite: Durandal

Swords Unite: Ferozium Katana

Swords Unite: Violium Katana

Swords Unite: Solarium Saber

Solarium Cannon

Adaptive Coffee Launcher

Tommy Guns

The Dyeable Flamethrower Mod

Tanks!

New functionality

Capture's Pod (The pet system from Pandora's Box)

Craftable Concoctions

Cosmetic drinks

Field Control Technology

Planet Search

Planet Transponder

Quantum Stable Item Frames

The Bookstore (Also sells official server lore!)

Universal Liquid Source (Normally unobtainable, only spawnable!)

New alternative crafting stations and reskins

New blocks and platforms

Better Chains, Alternative

Engine Blocks & Cables [Updated IDs]

Extra Materials

Platform Hatches

New decoration

Neki Furniture - Standalone

Tidalbelt's Astronomical Models

Unwrecked: Refurbished Goods

Vertical Ship Thrusters

More Teasets

Because just tea sets are not enough!

New food and drinks

A Freakin Noodle Vendor

Coolesterol - Stuff for machines to vend

Diabetuus - Stuff for machines to vend

New Frackin' Music addons

Arcana Frackin Music Addon

Maple Music Fracking Addon

Quality of Life changes

Peacekeeper Space Station Teleporters

Refinery Expansion

Extras

Give the avian oculemonade

Solarium Fishing Rod (and lure and reel)

Terramart employee change?!

Looks like the Floran got bored of her job. An Avian has taken over.

Lots of fixes and changes to ensure the best possible player experience!

Yes, growing bubbulbs in a growing tray no longer crashes the game. :)

Please note that not all of the above mods' contents will be available on Multiverstar Modded due to legal and community reasons!Unavailable items show up in-game as a "Perfectly Unavailable Item".

For the full list of added mods, check out https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=3044400052

We have a new Spawn!

Many thanks to Dex, Zeta and Chronos for having built it!

Quick Start - Patches

Updated BYOS - Multiversal megapatch

Updated Multiverstar Modded - SIP megapatch

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[aparnarollform]

Are you Looking for ladder type cable tray? Explore the numerous benefits of using perforated cable trays in our guide. Discover how they improve cable management, airflow, and reduce installation costs. For More Visit us at https://aparnarollform.com/ or Contact us +91 91540 88439.

[sudheervanguri]

Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals Walk-In Drive for Maintenance Roles Introduction Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals, a leader in the pharmaceutical industry, is conducting a walk-in drive for various maintenance positions. This drive aims to recruit skilled professionals for Electrical, Mechanical, Utility, Instrumentation, and Fitter roles. Qualified candidates with relevant experience are invited to attend the walk-in interviews from 11th to 14th June 2024 at Uppal, Hyderabad. Event Details Interview Dates: 11th June 2024 to 14th June 2024 Time: 10:00 AM to 02:00 PM Venue: Sri Krishna Pharmaceuticals Ltd, Unit-I, IDA C-4, Industrial Area, Uppal, Hyderabad. Positions Available Electrical Department Designation: Technician to Junior Engineer Qualification: ITI/Diploma (Electrical) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Electrical breakdown maintenance Electrical units and consumption costing Electrical maintenance of D.G. sets Cable laying, tray laying, crimping, dressing, and routing works Calibration of plant instruments Preventive and breakdown maintenance of electrical equipment Audit exposure Instrumentation Department Designation: Technician to Assistant Engineer Qualification: ITI/Diploma/B.Tech (Electronics/Instrumentation) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Preventive and breakdown maintenance of instruments Calibration of instruments Handling HMI & PLC related problems Mechanical (Utility) Department Designation: Technician to Junior Engineer Qualification: Diploma (Mechanical) Experience: 2 to 10 years (API) Responsibilities: Utility maintenance Boiler maintenance and consumption costing Maintenance of chillers, HVAC Documentation experience Fitters Department Designation: Fitter Qualification: ITI (Fitter) certificate mandatory Experience: 2 to 15 years in the API industry Responsibilities: General fitter duties in an API industry Documents Required Candidates are required to bring the following documents: Updated CV Passport size photo Copies of educational documents Aadhar & PAN card Latest CTC document 3 months’ payslips 3 months’ bank statement Application Information Contact: Email your resumes to Jayakishore Gollapalli at Jayakishore.gollapalli@srikrishnapharma.com [caption id="attachment_58448" align="aligncenter" width="930"] Sri Krishna Pharma: Walk-In Drive for Production Roles in Hyderabad[/caption]

[jargonautical]

Somewhere To Be / A chapter at a time

The chapel and the tinker

ALFRISCOMBE SHRINE, 1654

THE SHRINE HAD been there for as long as anyone could remember, marking the spot where the spring bubbled up through the rocks; a single standing stone as tall as a man with grey-green lichen filling its carved spirals, and a second stone laid flat at its foot like an altar. There used to be a third stone but that was smashed to pieces years ago, its scattered fragments buried somewhere in the weeds.

Some villagers kept to the old ways still. Desiccated posies bore testament, dark splashes of wine in clay cups, and antlers hanging off nearby branches like a particularly gruesome crop. All to be cleared away now at the baron’s command, all of it; the stones, the rotting timber hut behind, and those disgusting relics as well. No superstitious peasant nonsense must remain to sully this holy site.

As the ground was cleared, the remaining stones pushed over and broken down, a wanderer emerged from the forest path. Tall and swarthy with a heavy pack on his back, he looked like any other gypsy the stonemason ever saw; but since he was a decent man at heart he wished him a good day, enquiring after his health and his travels, even offering a cup of water and a bite of his own meal if the man would care to share.

It bore an unexpected dividend, and not just the warming gleam in the tinker’s eyes as he stepped out of the shadows. He accepted the water gratefully but wouldn’t take more than a sip. “Your men will be needing this more.” he said with a glance up at the sun. “As for your meal, let me contribute.” From the depths of his pack he produced a well-wrapped haunch of venison and cheerfully shared it around. “It’ll spoil before I can finish it.” he insisted against their protests. “It’s you who’s doing me the favour, or would you have this go to waste?”

Over the meal they were happy to discuss the chapel’s plans, since the fellow was so polite and so curious. He particularly admired the design for the roof bosses, a rosette with deep-cut petals that the mason was particularly pleased with. Just as well, as four dozen in all would be needed for the ambitious vaulted ceiling before they’re done, and a few gargoyles besides.

“It’ll be a fine chapel indeed.” the tinker said with a lopsided grin, “If it ever gets finished.”

Long afterwards the mason reflected on that day; it seemed from the moment the tinker said those words, nothing went right. Sinking foundations, cracking lintels, and collapsing walls - before too long the men flatly refused to return to work, even for triple pay. Some curse lingers over the site, they agreed, and as soon as other jobs arose they moved on with relief.

The chapel fell to ruin so quickly you’d barely know there’d ever been a structure there at all. Fine dressed stone gradually got robbed away for doorsteps and windowsills and mounting blocks until there was nothing left but a tumbled mossy outline of the tower base. A generation past you’d barely know it was there unless your horse stumbled on one of the hidden stones. The only sign a chapel was ever planned was the jeering stone demon carved by the stonemason after a heavy night drinking the tinker’s ale. Its twisted grin seemed to be mocking the whole endeavour, perched up on the wall where he left it until the brambles eventually claimed it.

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

DAY ONE OF the dig dawns on a fine sunny morning. Rain clouds are massing out to sea, but with barely any breeze it’ll be hours before they reach the museum.

The site manager consults her clipboard - mainly for show, since she knows everything is in place, from the permits acquired and carefully entered into the system to the license for the skip out in the drive right through to decades of blueprints consulted in case of underground cables. The interns are busy stacking find trays and hand tools ready beside the paved path bordering the lawn. On the other side of the garden wall a catering truck is dispensing a breakfast fit for people with serious work to do; bacon rolls, crumbling dark fruitcake by the slice, scalding builder’s tea in chipped china mugs. ‘Vegan Option’s Available On Request’ according to a handwritten addition to the menu, but a second bulk pack of bacon is already out to defrost in anticipation of the morning’s bestseller.

Approaching eight thirty the lawn fills with people shouting incomprehensible instructions at each other, collecting cones and pulling up stakes, winding up orange tape as they go to clear the way for the backhoe rumbling along from the main driveway.

Archchancellor Cooper himself has graced the occasion, a forty-something man with the shaved head and solid build of a prop forward and with much the same immovable air. Despite his bulk he’s wearing a beautifully-cut suit in heavy charcoal wool; spotless white cuffs emerge precisely half an inch from his jacket sleeves, no more and no less, and the silk tie around his thick neck displays the colour blocks and badge of the local Rotary Club. He’s not here to dig, obviously; the presence of the local newspaper signals he’s here to be photographed shaking hands and possibly holding a polished silver trowel that’s never touched dirt.

Mainder maintains a low-key brooding presence somewhere on the edge of the action, leaning against the high stone wall that borders the lane on the far side. He wasn’t expecting roll-away-the-stone levels of discovery, but despite the scattered cheers from the assembled crowd it’s distinctly anticlimactic. The driver takes up position and, with a theatrical hand raised high for all to see, brings it down on the lever to lower the bucket. It’s some skill, delicately breaking the surface and cutting a neat strip of turf, that he grudgingly agrees is worthy of applause. But after that it’s just doing the same thing another three times before turning the backhoe in a neat manoeuvre and trundling back across to the driveway. The trench is begun, six feet long and roughly the same wide, and all of three inches deep.

Mainder takes a hint from a sudden unobtrusive bustle, of  multiple people realising there’ll be nothing more to see for several hours, all simultaneously and spontaneously deciding they have something they just need to go and check on and good Lord, is that the time?

He himself has nowhere in particular to be, but there’s no point loitering in this spot until something is uncovered. The office looks to be open for the day already, a suitable haven, and no sign of the girl yet.

Good. He’s more than a little uncomfortable with what it might say about his psyche that he’d be dreaming a half-naked woman-child into his midnight bed. That requires some self-reflection, ideally before he next has to look her in the eye. He claims the couch and stretches out for a power nap, still fuzzy from his pre-dawn waking.

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

“Ssshhhh.” Chris mimes as Evie comes through the door. “You’ll wake the baby.”

Confused, she follows his glance to see Mainder stretched out on the couch. “Wow.” she mouths, and moves up the room. “He really made himself at home, didn’t he?”

“I know, right? I keep wanting to fetch him a blanket.”

Sleeping Mainder is a treat to behold, she has to admit. The brooding tension that he usually radiates is entirely absent, with his lean face perfectly relaxed and his long body twisted awkwardly half-on and half-off that much-too-short couch. He looks - there’s that word again, safe, when all the information so far suggests he’s anything but.

[self-careandself-love]

Organize Your Life: DIY Organization Hacks for Every Space

Welcome to a world of clutter-free bliss! Say goodbye to chaos and hello to harmony with our collection of DIY organization hacks designed to transform your home into a haven of order and tranquility. From clever storage solutions to innovative space-saving ideas, discover how to declutter, streamline, and organize every area of your life with style and ease.

1. Introduction: Embrace the Joy of Order

Step into a world where everything has its place and every space radiates peace and serenity. Our DIY organization hacks will revolutionize the way you think about clutter, offering practical solutions that are as functional as they are stylish. Whether you're tackling a cluttered closet, a chaotic kitchen, or a messy office, these simple yet ingenious tips will help you reclaim control of your space and restore balance to your life.

2. Closet Cleanout: Mastering Wardrobe Organization

Bid farewell to wardrobe woes with our expert tips for organizing your closet like a pro. Learn how to declutter your clothes, shoes, and accessories, and create a system that maximizes space and efficiency. From installing double-hanging rods to using shelf dividers and drawer organizers, discover how to make the most of every inch of closet space and ensure that getting dressed is a joy rather than a chore.

3. Kitchen Konmari: Simplify Your Culinary Kingdom

Transform your kitchen into a culinary oasis with our DIY organization hacks for the heart of your home. Say goodbye to cluttered countertops and overflowing cabinets, and hello to a streamlined space that inspires creativity and efficiency. Learn how to organize your pantry, fridge, and cabinets with clever storage solutions such as stackable bins, spice racks, and drawer organizers. With a well-organized kitchen, meal prep becomes a breeze and cooking becomes a pleasure.

4. Workspace Wonders: Conquer Clutter in Your Home Office

Boost productivity and creativity in your home office with our DIY organization hacks for a clutter-free workspace. Discover how to tame unruly cords, corral loose papers, and create designated zones for work and storage. From installing floating shelves and pegboards to using desk organizers and cable management solutions, you'll create an environment that fosters focus, creativity, and inspiration.

5. Bathroom Bliss: Elevate Your Self-Care Sanctuary

Transform your bathroom into a luxurious retreat with our DIY organization hacks for a spa-worthy space. Say goodbye to cluttered countertops and overflowing cabinets, and hello to a serene oasis of calm and relaxation. Learn how to maximize storage space with over-the-door organizers, under-sink caddies, and tiered trays. With everything in its place, your bathroom becomes a sanctuary where you can unwind and recharge after a long day.

6. Conclusion: Embrace the Power of Order

As we conclude our journey through the world of DIY organization hacks, remember that a clutter-free space is more than just aesthetically pleasing—it's also a reflection of a calm and balanced mind. By embracing the principles of order and organization, you'll not only create a more functional and efficient home but also cultivate a sense of peace and tranquility that extends to every aspect of your life. So roll up your sleeves, unleash your creativity, and embark on a journey to a more organized and harmonious home today!

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." - William Morris

"Ready to take action? Our website offers actionable steps and tools related to this Fitness.

[maidsidney]

Properly dressed this maid is ready for service success. She knows the the 3H’s of a sissy maids dress code and have become comfortable and cable in her head piece, hand covers and hosiery. She has taken great care to ensure her apron bow is perfectly ties with each end of the ties perfectly even. She is grateful for the additional service tray training and confident that in the near future this service tray will be safely balanced on her right hand leaving her left hand free to serve her superior’s tea.

[wizardfrog69]

Name

This is fyodor x gn!reader, have fun

Cw: mentions of blood, death, using someone to ones advantage.

There was a familiar knock on the door, ‘come in’ a soft voice of a Russian-speaking man echoed in the room in a response to the knock. In came a person holding a tray with a mug holding a soup known as borscht, next to it was a plate with a dish by the name of croquette on it. ‘You should take breaks more often, dear.’ they spoke with a hint of concern. ‘I need to finish this first, myshka.’ the Russian replied, not bothered to address the worry of their partner. ‘Here I made you something to eat... you should eat more darling before you turn into nothing but skin and bones, then who am I going to love?’ “Myshka” responded to the unfaithful remark of the Russian man known as “dear” or “darling." They started walking towards the man, stepping over cables carefully to not drop the tray onto the floor. After placing the tray with the meal on the table “myshka” was asked to leave, to leave the Russian man alone, just like they did every day. They missed the hands which would wrap around their waist, despite the cold nature they always felt warm, they missed the softness of the man's hair between their fingers, smooth, soft, it always smelt nice, like vanilla. They missed the feeling of someone hugging them in their sleep, the late walks at night, and the coffee and tea they drank while sitting together in front of the fire during those cold Russian winters. It has been a couple of weeks living in the news lands of Japan, the atmosphere was severely different than the one back home, better in a way, it was warmer and yet it felt colder.

Myshka put on a coat and left, leaving to explore the beautiful streets of Yokoyama. Walking, visiting different shops, cafes, gardens, and anything which looked remotely interesting. After a long day of walking, thinking about their beloved "darling", they turn a corner, thinking there wouldn't be anything situated in an alleyway, they stumble upon a bar, and so they walk in. ‘hi! Excuse me do you speak English?’ Myshka asked in their broken Japanese, they never spoke in Japanese before now, not having many interactions with the outside world so they could spend at least a second with their beloved “Darling”. There was no response from the bartender about Myshka’s inquiry, nevertheless, another voice spoke. ‘He doesn't speak English.’ A Japanese man with brunette hair and hazel eyes to complement his hair, wearing what looked like a beige trench coat, mahogany brown pants, and a vest with a dress shirt underneath. The man looked up to Myshka and in less than a second he was in front of them, their hands in his, ‘would you like to die with me?’ beseeched the man. ‘Can I at least get a drink first?’ he looked a bit disappointed but then his earlier expression came back. ‘Order whatever you want!’ myshka looked away from the man to glance at the menu which was, unfortunately, for them written in Japanese. ‘What is there to order if I don't even know how to read in Japanese?’ ‘What do you usually get?’ ‘Just a beer’ the man later said something in Japanese which they could not understand. A beer was placed in front of them ‘how much do I pay?’ they asked the man once again. ‘Don’t worry about the bill’ and with a nod, they turned towards the bar and started drinking the beer. After sitting in comfortable silents for a while the man began to speak, ‘where are you from?’ Myshka was told by “darling” to never reveal their identity to anyone. Fortunately, Myshka knew more Slavic languages ‘Poland, Lublin.’ and so the conversation continued.

Looking back on the conversation, they forgot about their troubles and why they left in the first place. Their new so-called identity was this: a Pole coming from the streets of Lublin to visit Japan for a while, they were 24 years old and wanted to travel to a couple of countries before steeling down and getting a job. Now they found themselves Infront of the building hand opening the door. The inside was warmer than the outside by a seemingly three or five degrees Celsius. They took off their coat and waltzed into a dining area only to find the Russian man standing there like he was looking for something lost. Myshka ran up to him and hugged him tightly. ‘Where were you, I was looking for you, myshka.’ myshka felt happy to be, now, in the man’s arms, receiving the hug. Myshka hadn't received his affectionate in such a long time that they feared they had lost the feeling, but it came back, just as they remembered it. ‘I went for a walk.’ the man broke the hug and led the two of them to a coach, ‘Tell me about your travels in Yokoyama.’ his voice was warm, the opposite of what it was in the morning. ‘I found this cute cafe and the coffee is delightful...’ and so they kept talking about their day, leaving out the new friend they made. “darling” Listened with a slight smile on his face seemingly enjoying their rant about their day, in truth the Russian man did not care for them, what they did or drank, he just cared for one thing and that was controlling people to his advantage, his puppets.

‘Did you finish work?’ myshka asked, hope in their voice. ‘No, but I took your advice and wanted to spend my break with you.’ A smile appeared on myshka’s face, they were happy to hear he took a break and wanted to spend it with them. ‘I am tired so can we spend your break in bed?’ myshka offered. The Russian man nodded in response, he did feel tried, he always did but there was work to be done, and this was a part of the job, spending time with his puppet to keep their free will chained to his commands, it was his job, he was working, falling asleep while having a comfortable warm thing in his arms was all a part of the job, nothing more, nothing less, falling asleep was necessary for the job, he wasn't taking a break, he is working.

The sunlight hit the Russian man’s face, waking him up in the process, he opened his eyes and saw myshka, they were awake tracing shapes softly onto his chest. ‘Good morning, dear!’ myshka said enthusiastically. ‘Good morning.’ a small kiss was placed on Myshka's forehead as a greeting gesture, it felt nice, he liked this work and wished to stay like that for a while but there were more pressing matters, an organization found out he was in town, and they have a strong hatred for him. They were quite a strong organisation which discouraged him in sending his puppet out into the streets of Yokohama again, especially after the photographs of them, some of the photographs were pictures of them from their times in Russia, there were photographs of the two them walking through the snow covered park the first time they met, there were photographs of their family grave with their name added on, some photographs were resent while others were from five years ago or from their childhood years, a cassette tape was included with the hundred or so photographs, a transcript of the cassette tape accompanied it, the transcript was the Russian translation of what was said on the tape; the first twenty minutes of the tape was a familiar voice crying, the voice belonged to myshka, and then words were spoken in a unfamiliar language to him, ‘how far did you travel?’ a male voice spoke in what seemed to be Spanish, ‘twenty four hours, fifty nine minutes and twenty eight seconds’ myshka’s voice started to speak in the same language, ‘do you know why you’re here?’ ‘Because I killed your brother’ ‘yes but that’s not all you did, isn’t it?’ ‘I killed your brother, father, mother, grandmother, cousin, and pet goldfish’ ‘and why did you run' the next hour was silent, and the conversation was repeated in forty different languages with an hour break between each conversation, with a different male voice each language.

‘How many languages do you know myshka?’ “darling” asked at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand, ‘I think five, Russian, Polish, Czech, English, and Latin. Oh! And I'm learning Japanese ’ ‘Do you know any Spanish?’ ‘No. Why do you ask?’ ‘No reason, are you doing anything later on?’ ‘Maybe I’ll go and do some grocery shopping, would you like anything specific for dinner?’ ‘no.’ the natural silents filled the room again, it was as if all sound went deaf. The Russian man stood up and left for the office which crept into his mind making it his new home. A couple of hours went by when movement was last heard in the building, myshka had left the building to roam the Yokohama streets as they had previously said. The sound of a door opening, and plastic bags being placed on a table was proof to him that myshka had come back. The footsteps came closer to his door but instead of the familiar knock, there was the sound of paper sliding on the floor. He turned in his chair to find an envelope, opening it and reading the letter, he knew this wasn’t his puppet but someone else’s. It was their writing, but it wasn't them, the letter read: I am being held against my will at *****, please help me.

He was seemingly unfazed as always but there was a strange feeling in his breast as if someone was trying to rip his heart out. He left the room in a hurry and walked in a calm manner towards the and left.

He found himself at the address given, it was an alleyway but there seemed to be no one there. ‘You came and they told me you didn't love me and only saw me as your puppet.’ myshka’s weak voice sounded from the very end of the valley, hearing his puppet’s voice made the pain in his breast worse, yet he walked to the weak form in front of him. His puppet was sitting against the back wall, looking up to the Russian man, blood covering their physique. ‘What happened myshka?’ he said subconsciously kneeling to his puppet and took their hand in his, ‘say you love me’ ‘who'd done it.’ ‘Prove them wrong, say you love me.’ ‘I need to take you to a hospital.’ ‘I've seen enough death to know if someone going to survive... god I feel so tried’ the puppet spoke, weaker than before. He moved closer to their weak form and held their hand tightly, ‘you know I love you myshka.’ his eyes started to feel strange, ‘I love you too Fyodor...’ the spark in their eyes was gone. Their breath drew short before stopping, their life had stopped. Hearing his name being called with the last breath his puppet took felt... unfamiliar, suddenly his cheeks felt wet and there was a salty taste in his mouth. He stared at the body in his arms, he felt the pain in his breast become greater with every second which'd passed, his body started shaking, his warmth had turned cold.

This was kind of rushed, sorry if it's bad, I'm not used to writing shit like this, have a good day/night!