#retractable syringes

[acpharms]

A & C Pharma Specialities is fast emerging in the global pharmaceutical industry for building excellent relations and an active network with many of the world's major Pharma Companies.   Driven by dedicated 2nd and 3rd generation pharma industry entrepreneurs with over 75 years of cumulative experience, we are connected nationally and internationally to source, support and serve our international customers in fulfilling their multi-faceted requirements.

[joowee-feftynn]

so here's a little bit of an overhaul of my wing design. I made them more similar to pterosaur wings with the general structure of it (ft. n's wings again)

So i figured that if i was gonna make a redesign of disassembly drone wings i'd have to discard the bird wing structure entirely, so i went with a pterosaur and bat inspired design and i'm pretty satisfied with it :]

[huh-i-guess]

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 

“Listen I-” 

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 

“Did you lad?” Price probed. 

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  

“Jesus, Simon.” 

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.” 

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

[dutifullycoralcollector]

Auto-retractable Safety Syringe Market is poised to achieve continuing growth During Forecast Period 2023-2030 |BD, Medtronic, Retractable Technologies, Globe Medical Tech, Revolutions Medical, etc

The auto-retractable safety syringe market refers to the segment of the medical devices industry that manufactures and distributes syringes that have an automatic retraction mechanism built into the needle. This mechanism prevents the needle from being reused or accidentally sticking someone after use, which can help to reduce the risk of needlestick injuries and the spread of blood-borne diseases such as HIV and hepatitis.

For Download Free Sample Link Here:-https://www.marketinforeports.com/Market-Reports/Request-Sample/398053

Auto-retractable safety syringes are becoming increasingly popular in healthcare settings due to the many benefits they offer over traditional syringes. For example, they can reduce the risk of needlestick injuries for healthcare workers, reduce the spread of blood-borne diseases, and improve patient safety. Additionally, they can help healthcare facilities save money by reducing the need for expensive post-exposure prophylaxis treatments and workers’ compensation claims.

The global auto-retractable safety syringe market is expected to continue to grow in the coming years due to increasing awareness of the risks associated with traditional syringes and the benefits of using auto-retractable safety syringes. The market is highly competitive and includes both established medical device companies and new players looking to enter the market with innovative products.

[emptyultimatum]

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret. 

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone. 

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain. 

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers. 

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught. 

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—” 

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison. 

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better. 

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over. 

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan. 

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.” 

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor. 

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.” 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.” 

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking. 

“Insecurity? About what?” 

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.” 

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.” 

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub. 

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin. 

And being yourself, you capitalized on it. 

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself. 

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own. 

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs. 

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly. 

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand. 

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.” 

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.” 

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?” 

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.” 

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.” 

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured. 

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.” 

With a whimper, she complied. 

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader. yandere-ish law. implied medical abuse, captivity. use of restraints. non-consent due to drugging. use of needle/injection. using prompt from here. // Yandere Minific Masterlist

The world fades in and out. Breathing feels like agony. Bursts of pain rocket through you as you wake, then sleep, then wake, then sleep again. Nothing is real until it is, until you finally open your eyes and see Law standing beside you, bathed in sterile white light.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he says, something hidden behind his measured tone. “Thought I lost you there for a little while.”

Lost you…?

“But I—I was fine.” And you were fine, as far as you recalled. The skirmish was small, a rogue pirate ship trying to claim Law’s bounty was woefully underprepared when they attempted to board the Polar Tang, but you were holding your own…weren’t you? Sure, you took a few hits from dulled blades but that was nothing new and certainly nothing life-threatening. The last thing you can remember through this haze of pain and whatever is drip-drip-dripping from the I.V. bag attached to you is the feeling of being knocked forward by something heavy, a weight crushing you—then nothing, nothing until now.

You start to sit up but a thick leather strap over your chest pins you to the bed, and you’re suddenly aware of something around your wrists—handcuffs.

“Is this…” You trail off, keenly aware of Law’s predatory gaze as you start to protest. “Are these really necessary, captain?”

“It’s for your own safety,” he responds, tilting his head to stare at you, almost pityingly. “You’re too delicate. You need my protection.”

“But...I was fine.” And you were fine, the last you recalled. How in the hell could someone have gotten the jump on you so quickly?

“You only think you’re fine.” The condescension in his voice is almost palpable. Law starts to place his hand on yours and pauses, hovering just over it, just close enough you can feel the smooth latex brush your skin before he retracts and walks stiffly to the other side of the room. “Just…just let me heal your wounds, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Since when did your captain call you pet names?

You glance around the room and it looks odd—this isn’t the sick bay or the surgical theater on the Polar Tang, this is somewhere else entirely, it must be. You know your ship inside and out, you’ve restocked and organized those rooms hundreds of times and this was not your ship. Where the hell had he taken you?

“Captain,” you murmur, your throat painfully dry, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, “where are we?”

Law freezes in place, his back to you. “We’re on the Polar Tang.”

“No.” Your heart begins to pound, breathing becomes harder. “No we aren’t. Where are we? What did you do to me?”

“Do to you?” Law turns to face you, a syringe held tightly in his hand. “How could you ever think I would hurt you?”

“Captain, please I didn’t mean—”

The heart monitor screeches as you struggle against your restraints and Law rushes to your side, shushing you as he injects something into your arm, something that burns when it hits your bloodstream, something that takes the fight out of you as it moves like magma through your veins. It’s hard to move now, your limbs heavy, eyes grainy. Your pulse slows, breaths become steady and quiet again, like a heavy blanket was dropped on you, holding you down.

“It’s all okay now,” Law coos as he mops the sweat from your brow with a damp towel. “I’ll keep you safe now. I’m not going to lose anyone else I love, not again.”

Love. The word swirls around in your mind, again and again, until everything begins to fade and all there is, as your eyes flutter shut against your will, is Law.

[discotenny]

Lost you once

Chapter 2 ~ Alone in a trap meant for me Your interrogation.

Warning for physical violence, abusive language, and drugging used against the reader insert. Basically anything that happened to Ren in his interrogation happens to reader @_@

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You awake to laughter surrounding you. You try to move your arms but realize they’re bound behind your back. Similarly, your legs are tied together at the base of the folding chair you reside on. You don't remember why you’re here. 

“I didn’t expect it to be some brat leading this whole operation,” You feel something cold and metal poke at your cheek and you instinctively move away from the uncomfortable sensation. 

You quickly glance around the room- though there isn’t much to look at. It’s dirty and cold. Dark concrete walls with a singular tiny barred window in the center. A security camera blinks red in the corner. You try to concentrate, searching through your memories for a clue as to what brought you here. Your mind is foggy as the more you try, the less you recall. 

Your face is suddenly grabbed harshly by one hand. The sharp tip of a pen presses against your cheek the tighter it’s grasped. You’re met face to face with a guard, who inspects you with a sickening smirk. “Maybe the drug was too strong. You don’t look like you really get it, do you?” He forcibly moves your head around, laughing as you wince at his harshness. 

“Let go of me-” You try to voice your words against his hold, ready to argue your innocence. 

“Give it up!” The man recoils his hand and punches you in the face. You fall to the floor and cry out in pain. With your hands unable to break your fall, your head collides with the ground. The pen he held leaves a scratch against your cheek and suddenly you’re all too aware of the numerous bruises that litter your form. 

The guard begins to laugh as he presses his shoe against your face, rubbing it in as his mockery continues. You try to keep your eyes open, only to be met with various empty needles littering the ground. 

“I-” You try to say against his laughs. This only serves to anger him as he retracts his foot and kicks you in the stomach. You roll over in pain, curling into yourself as you try to protect yourself the best you can. Tears fall to the ground as all you can do is stifle your gasps. 

“You really think just cause you play up the innocent kid act, all your crimes will be washed away?” You hear him tsk his tongue behind you, tapping his pen against a clipboard. “Obstruction of justice, blackmail, defamation, possession of weapons. Manslaughter too? This is quite a sentence you’ve accrued for yourself.” 

Your voice is barely there as you wheeze out a reply. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” The room goes silent other than your continued pained breaths. You hear calm footsteps walk close behind you and brace yourself for whatever’s next. 

“Ah-!” The guard grasps you by your hair, pulling you up and forcing you to face him. Your scalp burns with the force and you stop trying to pull back, hoping it’ll give you some reprieve to follow along. His colleague stands behind him, not sparing you a glance as he writes down notes on his own clipboard. 

“You’re going to give us a written confession. Whether you know what you’re signing to or not,” He lets go of your hair for a moment to undo the handcuffs binding your arms behind you. 

In a sudden spur of adrenaline, you strike at him as soon as your hands are free. The clipboard flies across the room as you lunge towards the man. 

“You fucker-” The man grabs at your flailing arms, a syringe in one of his hands. Despite your best efforts, he wrestles you to the ground, successfully stabbing you in the neck. 

You yelp out in pain as he lets go of you, trying to stabilize yourself with your arms to no avail. You become overwhelmed with nausea, finding it hard to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain your body is in. 

A clipboard and pen is presented to you. You can barely make out the threats the guard makes, but in fear of another dose you don’t try and fight again.

Shakily, you sign your name. 

You would take the fall for the Phantom Thieves. And you could only hope Ren and Futaba’s plan would succeed despite you taking his place. 

For now though, you were subject to the whims of your captors. Despite how complacent you played to their games, anything you did resulted in a slap, beating, or screaming at your face. 

After an indeterminate amount of time and several near faints, you’re forced into a chair with a bright lamp shining at your face. 

“Best behavior, brat.” The guard warns you before leaving the room for the first time since he entered. You sit confused, blinking in adjustment at the vibrant light. 

A woman walks through the door, and through your haze you recognize who she is. 

Sae Niijima. 

“Let us begin,” she says, a hesitant concern as she looks over your state of being. “I can’t believe they’re treating you like this…” Just under her breath, you hope that you heard her right. 

It hurts to talk through the interrogation Sae puts you through. You try, to the best of your ability, explain your actions- try to reason with her despite knowing of her corrupted heart. You think you see sympathy in her eyes but you don’t know if that’s delirium from the drugs settling in your system. 

It feels like days have gone by as you sit in front of her in that sorry excuse of a box they call a room. Through foggy memories and a haze of thought you finish recounting the story of how you ended up in your current position. You try your best to behave in the way you think Ren would, to say what you needed for her to truly understand you.

You think there’s something you’re missing as she looks at you with finality. 

“It seems our time is up…” Her voice is a different tone than the overwhelming calmness throughout your entire talk. It’s more downtrodden, a simple sense of sympathy as she speaks her final words to you. “This will be my last involvement with this case. I’ve been told to let one of my coworkers see you once I leave.” 

Sae lets out a hollow chuckle. “Despite everything, you’ve held that determination in your eyes since the beginning. I’ve listened to your whole story… I might as well play along till the end.” She stands up, looking you in the eyes and giving you an unsure nod. “I’ll place my bet on you.” 

She turns to leave, with only one cursory glance your way before closing the door.

For just a few moments, you’re left alone. The pain in your side is the worst thing you’ve ever felt and the throbbing in your head only seems to get worse the more you try to think. You can tell that something’s wrong. Not just with the current situation- but the current state of you . 

You’re tired and wide awake at the same time. Hot in some areas and cold in others. Splotches of black encase your vision and when you close your eyes you’re left with the afterimages of light in front of you. You feel your heartbeat in your throat and the air from your breaths coursing through your veins. 

The door opens once more. 

You aren’t able to lift your head to meet the person’s eyes but the tan suit they don is unmistakable. 

Goro Akechi. 

You don’t have it in you to scream at him for his betrayal. To ask him why he decided to choose the path he’s on. To voice your disappointment on how you thought he was better than this. You don’t know what expression he wears. 

Your world goes black before you can do anything but brace for what he plans to do.

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For being an x reader blog, I notice I don't really show your perspective all that much @_ @ Hopefully this works well because I do want to be giving the reader insert much more of a character to actually make longer works more interesting...

[shiftingwithmars]

“Men created literally everything! What have women ever created?🙄”

dishwashers

Wifi

life raft

airplane muffler

anti-fungal drug

beer

bulletproof fiber

car heater

chemotherapy

fire escape

geobond

globes

gifs

hairbrush

home security system

medical syringe

MBTI

naturally colored cotton

paper bag machine

pastry fork

permanent wave machine

Pertussis Vaccine

photo enhancement

radium and polonium

ReCell

Retractable dog leash

rolling pin

sanitary belt

signal flares

science fiction

space station batteries

stem cell isolation

submarine telescope and lamp

thermoelectric power generator

VoIP

waterproof leather protector

windshield wipers

computer programming

Apgar score

dna double helix

kevlar

you know, a lot of stuff that has either

A) saved your life

or

B) something you use in everyday life!

[kosmicsandshoes]

"He's still alive?" The groundskeeper questioned, peaking into the lab. His boss, the mad scientist, was bent over in a huddle-like position at the side of the cell. His undead assistant stood slouched at his side, holding a metal tray full of surgical tools. The scientist retracted his protected hand from the cell, setting an empty syringe onto the tray and pulling a tablet from his hip.

The creature in the cell let out a guttural, painful sounding scream at the sight of the groundskeeper, shovel in hand. He almost felt bad, obviously he knew what the groundskeeper's job was, and feared his presence as such. As if he didn't fear the scientist, or the assistant, or the butcher's presence just as much.

Without looking up from the tablet, the scientist nodded.

"Yes yes. It lives another day. The serum will make sure of that. It won't escape me that easily. I won't allow that, no no." The scientist spat out. The groundskeeper raised a brow, but shrugged anyway. He noted the splatter of crimson across the creature's features. That chain would surely rust sooner than later if it wasn't cleaned properly.

"The corrosiveness seems to be rising by the day. We'll have to make a more secure holding cell for it, should it figure out it has these abilities." The scientist rattled off to his rotting assistant, who merely groaned in response.

"How is it doing?" The groundskeeper asked. Frankly, he already had an idea, but he was interested in what his boss had to say.

"What what? Oh, yes yes. It seems to be coping well." The mad man stated rather matter-of-factly, completely ignoring the way the creature clawed at the metal floor beneath him, coughing violently. The saliva that flew from his mouth was a violent shade of neon green, like it was radioactive. When it made contact with the metal floor of the holding cell, it sizzled momentarily before popping out of existence, leaving only the tiniest scorch mark in its wake. The groundskeeper swallowed harshly.

That was the corrosiveness, he reckoned.

"Is that all, Brock? There should be a fresh, erm... load, yes yes, load, from the Pig Pen for you to take care of. I really must get back to the experiment." The scientist stated, trying to keep the flair of anger that aroused from his work being interrupted under wraps. The creature backed into the corner of its cage at the mention of further experimentation; the chain around its neck jingling as it whined, like a kicked dog.

A kicked mutt. Just as all bipedals were. Human or not.

The scientist sneered at the thought.

The groundskeeper gulped and dipped his head in apology.

"Yes, right. I'm sorry. I heard the screaming, and I just thought I'd check in." He explained before backing out of the doorway. He made haste down the corridor to the Pig Pen to collect his load.

That creature was going to bite back one day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Lyrics: Nothing fucks with my baby/Nothing can get a look in on my baby (NFWMB -Hozier)

Character: August Walker (maybe he’s mean but over protective)

Take Care of You

Warnings: needles, self-doubt, illness, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: August Walker

Summary: You try to feel better with the help of your new boyfriend.

I hope I didn't go too far out to the left with his.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

“Make sure you finish your tea, honey,” his deep voice rumbles through you, the heat between your palms seeping through the prevalent chill. “It’ll make you feel better.”

You groan and sink back into the pillows, cradling the porcelain as the steam wafts up your nose. You rest it daintily above your chest. “I don’t feel like I’ll ever be better, Auggy,” you moan, “every day, I just feel worse and worse.”

He gives a tight-lipped smile, bittersweet even. He brings his fingers up to tickle the hair above his lip. Your ears pulse and your bones ache. You’ve never felt this sort of fatigue. You’re exhausted yet all you do is sleep.

“You will, I know you will,” he sits on the edge of the bed, “but we gotta listen to the professionals, right? Dr. Kemp knows what he’s talking about, okay?”

“I’m so lucky,” you cough and your head lolls as you wet your dry tongue, “so lucky to have you here…” you lift your head and raise the mug shakily. You blow across the tea before sipping it. It’s stringent but soothing.

“Of course,” he takes the script from the night table. You remember Dr. Kemp, handsome with  a swoop in his hair. “I’m lucky to be here for you, you know that.”

“N-nooo,” you shake your head weakly, “no, I… I hate to think you’re missing work for me.”

“Doctor’s orders, can’t leave you alone.”

You take another drink and stare into the orange depth. He rubs your leg and slowly retracts his hand to touch the bottom of your mug, “here, we should put this down. Just until you have your medicine.”

“Oh,” you let him take the cup but can’t hide your anxiety, “do I have to? Can’t I just have some more tylenol?”

“It’s not helping, kitten. You have to do this.”

You cringe and give a quick peak to the wrapped syringe. Oh, you hate needles. You pout and stifle a sob.

“It’s just a small prick,” he assures you as he grabs the vial.

“No, it’s not that,” you recline again, deflated, “I’m so tired of this. Of being sick. I just feel so helpless.” Your head drifts to the side, “I feel like a burden. Auggy, it’s barely three months and you’re already taking care of my like some… some old lady.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you softly, “it’s okay. You’re going to get better. You have to,” he peels away the wrapper from the syringe, “because I’m gonna take you on the best date of your life. Just like I promised.”

“Heh,” you force out a weak laugh, “you better…”

You watch him draw from the vial with the long tip of the needle. He pulls it out and you meet his gaze. You give a nervous grimace.

“What is your perfect date?” He asks, “tell me everything you ever dreamt of.”

He rests his hand on your arm and rubs it. You know he’s distracting you. You need that. You take the bait.

“Hmm, well, flowers. I love flowers. Sunflowers are nice but I guess roses are more romantic…” you look up as you think. He caresses your forearm. He’s so nice, so supportive, and it feels so unreal. You feel like you barely know him but he always knows exactly what you need.

He hums as he listens; the ferris wheel piques his attention as he tilts his head. As you weigh the option of a boat ride out load, you feel a prick and give a yipe. He quickly presses his thumb to your arm and removes the needle tip. You look down and whimper.

“All done, wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No,” you answer as you wiggle your fingers.

“See, I told you. You got this,” he looks you in the face as he sets the needle aside. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. “Finish your tea.”

He stands up and gathers up the mess, capping the needle with the plastic sheath before crunching up the wrappers. You look away. You’re so pathetic. He has to do everything. You just can’t get used to that. You weren’t like this before. You never got sick. Ever.

Not until you met him.

[acpharms]

Pharmaceutical APIS & Pharmaceutical Intermediates — A&C Pharma

We are pleased to have the opportunity to introduce our company A & C PharmaSpecialities LLP. We are engaged in the trading and market deepening activities for a variety of Pharma products including various API’s and Intermediates. Currently, we are providing specific market deepening services on behalf of Art International Ltd, a Pharma Trading and Indenting company based in the Middle East for three decades.

[smugpugchimera]

I have a tough time visualizing the "cicada mouth" opening up and eating, like is it similar to a mosquito or a housefly?

Definitely a mosquito, but it's also niether? FlHouse flies have entirely different sponge like apparatus, I'd argue one of the more extreme adaptations of mouth there is

I think cicadas are a lot like moths? Mosquitos have this highly specialized straight proboscus It's made up of the initial rudementary mouthparts, but they're practically indistinguishable or completely gone, at least on the first look. Moths are a bit similar, but firstly: their proboscis is flexible, and they curl it up in a spiral. More of the initial structures can be intued, and Some species even have visible rudementary mandables on either side of the proboscus! The feeding organs itself looks like two tubes merged/fuzed in the middle. For cicadas, it's shorter than in moths, more robust, but it is still flexed and manipulated in similar ways. The inner structure have two long "tongs" that were onece mandables, and a central, syringe like, "tounge" they do the slurping with. They didn't exactly close, nor open their mouth, they extend the tube and suck out liquids, then retract in under their head (like moths!)

[painonthebrain]

The Needle’s Eye

Whumptober Day 16: “No, I can’t feel anything.”

Masterlist

Content: Lab whump/medical whump, aliens, experiment whumpee, scientist/surgeon whumper, needles/syringes, noncon drugging, restraints, manhandling, implied surgical procedure

Procedurally, the operation began before Saul was even on the table.

Already awake, he was offered the chance to go willingly. Through a speaker broadcasting from the other room, the doctor’s voice told him he would be operated on and that he could go without resistance. After all, it would be much easier to cuff him and drag him to the operating room if he let them. The offer was charitable, especially for someone like him. But of course, he refused. Why wouldn’t he? No way could he actually be tested on now. No way this could actually be happening.

Mechanical arms dropped from the ceiling, pressing him against the wall by his wrists and neck, and under them, he went rigid, knowing this was happening, whether or not he wanted it. He wished he had the heart to fight back, but he knew there was no reason to. It was futile.

A mechanical arm tipped with a syringe lowered itself in front of him, snakelike. The liquid inside was clear, almost cyan but not concentrated enough to be that color, something sharp and hypodermic. A tube funned into it, weaving around the metal of the arm, made of rubber. He stared at it, gasping hard, reality becoming slanted and wrong in front of his very eyes.

The arm almost looked like it was alive, and he glimpsed his reflection in the glass of the syringe. Terrified and delirious, he laughed. Saul never laughed, never smiled, and it was wrong, all wrong, the sound of it came out shaky and strangled. He was shaky. The arms steadied his shoulder, and with some effort, he suddenly struggled, uselessly writhing, kicking. It was to no avail. The needle pressed against his shoulder plunging into his flesh, the plunger depressing as the sedative was injected into him. He could feel it under his skin, just barely. Then it retracted, returning to the ceiling, and Saul watched it, his body beginning to feel horribly numb.

The door to his cell clicked, unlocking, and unable to do anything more, he watched it open with a hiss of air, breathing hard as the sedative turned his limbs to jelly. Dr. Greyson entered, bringing in a gurney, and even with his head spinning, Saul was cognizant enough to know he’d end up on it.

And he did, his body puppeteered by the arms, a combination of Dr. Greyson and the mechanical limbs guided him to the gurney, flesh and metal guiding flesh. Once he was laid onto its surface, there was no pause; with a simple press of a button, Dr. Greyson activated the restraints. They appeared as if by magic, shiny and blue, across his limbs, chest, and stomach, holding him down fast.

His head spun as she transported him out. This was the first time since being brought here that he’d been able to leave his cell, yet he had no time or ability to appreciate it, the hallway around him turning into a blur of grays and silvers and blinding white. The world seemed like it was melting, bleeding into itself, making his head fuzzy. He’d completely lost the will and urge to resist, becoming a passive observer on the way to his fate. He hoped whatever they did would be quick, wouldn’t hurt. At the very least, they had to have the decency to put him under.

The world finally stopped moving.

Saul felt like he was about to vomit. Great. This was spectacular.

Thankfully, it wasn’t some voyeuristic operating theater he’d been brought to, but a relatively small, compact room. He stared at the ceiling, looking up at the jointed, surgical arms affixed to it, hoping they’d just drug him again so he wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore. The feeling was honestly nerve wracking, the type of primal fear you get from knowing something will happen and having no way to change it, the fear knowing you’re cornered and about to be brutalized.

Dr. Greyson lifted his head up and put a pillow under his neck, elevating it. Now Saul could see more of the room, the sinks, the counters laden with tools and machines, an IV next to him, hooked to nothing, tubes and wires everywhere. He watched as Dr. Greyson rolled up the right pants leg of his uniform, putting a cuff around his leg and tightening it, pulling up a monitor of his heartbeat. In real time, he watched the erratic fluttering of his hearts, measured in both numbers and graphs.

He was steeling himself, waiting for something, anything. Dr. Greyson was painfully slow with her preparations, it seemed. …Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Saul wasn’t perceiving things right. Whatever the case, it was becoming excruciating to lay back and wait passively.

Dr. Greyson took a box out of one of the drawers on the counters, opened it and placed the materials on a tray near Saul’s face. She washed her hands and put on a pair of gloves. They went on with a snap, blue and sterile.

She rolled up his sleeve, wiping down the inner pit of his elbow. He could smell it as she did, the scent of the antiseptic sharp. She then chose a gauge and tightened a tourniquet around his upper arm. He hissed at the feeling, the tension unbearably tight.

She then tended to the IV, getting the IV bag ready and attaching the IV line to it. She removed the cap of the needle, and in the fluorescent lighting, it gleamed.

Saul didn’t cringe at the sight, he merely braced himself for the familiar feeling of a needle entering his vein, knowing he’d have no idea what came next.

Dr. Greyson held the skin of his arm taut and inserted the needle. Saul watched as she did, unable to tear his eyes away. He had to watch. It was imperative. The needle slipped in easily with Dr. Greyson’s skillful handiwork, and it was done in less than a moment. Pressing her finger beyond the catheter tip, she undid the tourniquet. She pressed the activation button and began to wrap the IV line.

Saul’s vision was going fuzzy now, black spots dancing before his eyes. His breathing slowed further, and his thoughts began to scramble, dissolving into nonsense. He could faintly feel hands on his neck, tilting his head, murky behind a thickening film between him and reality.

His eyes grew cloudy and he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

The operation was ready to begin.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: November 7, 2024

Reworked Character #6: Nadia Cassel

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, neglect, abuse, kidnapping, stalking, cannibalism, and SA.

Real name: Nadège Véronique Comtois

Alias: Perky Foodie

Occupation: Private of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., fighter pilot for the Regular Army, a freelance painter, and a tactical scientist for the Amadeus Syndicate (formerly)

Retirement plans: Become a professional forensic scientist, acquire a private jet, and establish an art studio and an ethical science lab

Special skills: Marksmanship, aviation skills, forensic science, knowledge of biological hazards, anatomy, and genetics, and proficiency in fashion modelling, sketching, and painting

Imperfect clone abilities: At her own will, she can rapidly regenerate missing limbs and organs, minimising blood loss and restoring her body to its original form without the need for medical aid. Her blood possesses extraordinary healing properties, capable of instantly curing non-lethal ailments, skin punctures, and all manner of burns. When Nadia opens her mouth wide and flexibly shifts her upper and lower front teeth, she reveals four syringe-like fangs, which are neatly concealed within the hard palate. These fangs enable her to consume the blood of other living beings and replenish her own lost vital fluid.

Her body is resistant to all lethal toxins and pathogens. Moreover, she possesses incredible agility and can move at hyperspeeds. Notably, her pancreas, shielded by a thick layer of blubber, has the unique ability to produce a bile-infused silk. She utilises this silk to puke up robust, ensnaring nets that capture her victims and slowly burn them with its corrosive properties. Nadia���s hands feature reseda chartreuse eyes with feline pupils, granting her night vision, and her fingernails are entirely fleshy, concealing retractable claws made of an adamantine greenish-yellow material.

Hobbies: Painting landscapes, going on shopping sprees (she often buys gifts for her comrades and friends), reading books on human and animal anatomy, genetic engineering, and forensics, messing around with flight simulation software, and eating large quantities of food after each mission

Likes: Trevor, food challenges, the Walking Machines, maintaining her figure, and the one time she accidentally ate a butterfly

Dislikes: Starvation, getting unnecessarily dirty, not getting the chance to pilot the Slug Flyer or Slug Copter, people doubting her fashion advice and telling her to keep her mouth shut, and individuals that she views as scary and incapable of having fun (such as Tequila and Eri)

Favourite food: Coq au vin, phaal curry, and anything sweet and sugary

Favourite drink: Cotton candy soda

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 12 (in 2022), 18 (in 2028), 20 (in 2030), 22 (in 2032), 24 (in 2034), 31 (in 2041), 33 (in 2043), 34 (in 2044), and 37 (in 2047)

Blood type: B+

Weight: 120 lbs. (54 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 4” (162.56 cm) French ectomorph with a gracefully thin body, small breasts, curvaceous hips, sloping shoulders, and a serpentine tongue covered in microscopic spikes. She has limestone skin and possesses feline-like pupils that transform into vertical slits only when she opens her mouth wide enough to reveal her concealed fangs. Her eyes are heterochromatic with her right eye being a warm amber, while her left eye is grey-green with brown flecks. Nadia has a few moles: one on the right side of her chin; one near the corner of her left eye; two above her left breast; one on the back of her right hand; and one slightly below her right knee.

She has raspberry red hair with voluminous curls that reach her waist, but she often ties it into two pigtails with stretchy reseda green hair bands. She has a silvery-pink birthmark on her left shoulder, almost shaped like a crescent moon with three protruding spikes. A large circular patch on her upper back is stripped of skin, exposing crimson muscles and purplish veins, and her greenish-yellow spine is partially protruding.

Her military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with her name, an avocado green tank top, and mid-calf socks with black and white zebra stripes. She wears Argentine blue neoprene gloves, reseda green leather belt with a snap-on silver buckle, and a champagne-hued vest with the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. insignia on the back. She wears navy blue army cargo pants tucked into twilight lavender combat boots with spiked soles. She also wears a dirty white lab coat, black knee pads, a case for her stun gun, and a gun holster for a handgun.

The pockets of Nadia’s vest carry around a pocket knife, a sticky note pad, a red pin, a black cellphone with a metallic green case, a blue pin, and a bag of macadamia nuts. In the pockets of her lab coat, she carries an orange-and-white cat plushie with blue eyes and an emerald green tie named Melekhai (used for stress relief), along with a caramel-filled chocolate candy bar in silver wrapping and a small pine-wood box of strawberry frosted sugar cookies. She wears a forest green waist pack containing a bottle of laxatives and two blood packs for snacking. Attached to the left side of her belt is a square-shaped pouch with a clear plastic window, showcasing balls of bubblegum and lollipops in different colours inside. The pouch features an amaranth pink outline, feline ears with bluish-white fur, a pistachio-hued strap with a black button clasp, and a metallic silver zipper.

Over her tank top, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She wears two dark brown bandoliers that cross over her body in an X-shape, each holding grenades. Nadia carries around a navy blue load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a 7.62mm AR-10 Autorifle, a medical kit, a DOLL bodysuit, and liquid and pill bottles of cures and deadly chemicals. She carries greenish-black gas masks, similar to those worn by the Ptolemaic Army special forces, to her teammates who needed them. She also carries around a painting kit, her mint green sketchbook with bubblegum pink polka dots, and a set of drawing pencils with two erasers and a sharpener.

She also wields a specialised rifle that fires needles containing transformative liquids, capable of altering humans into simian or mantis creatures. Additionally, she carries purplish rolling bombs that contain mummifying breath and throwable canisters filled with a zombie-inducing orangish phlegm that explodes upon impact. She wears safety goggles, star-shaped lavender spinel earrings that dangle from her ears, and a non-dangling peridot belly ring piercing.

Character summary: She boasts swift wit and inventive verbal humour, often outsmarting her foes with clever sabotage tactics. Despite being a childish, happy-go-lucky, and sassy goofball, she has a surprisingly intelligent and cynical side, but she loves to indulge her silly and jubilant nature. Due to her fondness for her exceptional intellect, she sometimes perceives other people as “intellectually inferior” to herself. She conceals her bitterness and wariness of strangers behind a facade of playful teasing, mischievous pranks, sarcastic remarks, and a charming smile. She cherishes her friendship with Trevor, who is her first true best friend. She appreciates his laid-back nature and ability to understand her effortlessly. Over time, she has developed subtle romantic feelings for him, largely due to his hacking expertise and the enjoyable quality time they share. However, she has become adept at concealing these emotions.

She enjoys taking her friends on shopping sprees, blending social time with style consultations. She demonstrates her loyalty to her friends by nurturing their relationships and showing platonic affection, often showering them with hugs and kisses. She's a fearless advocate for herself and others, refusing to tolerate bullying or any form of mistreatment, and will boldly speak out against it. She has a fondness for assigning nicknames to those around her, including friends and foes alike.

She's a friendly, humorous, and talkative busybody with a passion for creative expression and thrill-seeking adventures, which give her a taste of what it truly means to live. Despite efforts to maintain her supermodel figure, she has developed mild bulimia nervosa; while trying to resist the urge, she sometimes purges after eating. Additionally, she struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), manifesting as a fear of contamination, anxiety about misplacing valuable items, and a need for order and balance. She also experiences distressing thoughts, including fears of losing control, harming loved ones, and intrusive thoughts about sexual subjects. Whenever she hears about child abuse or unethical experiments, she becomes visibly shaken, her mind goes numb, and she withdraws socially for a few hours, succumbing to a melancholic state.

She takes a disturbing pleasure in obliterating her enemies, often letting out a maniacal laugh as she does so. Her humour is a unique blend of lighthearted and dark, peppered with French phrases, occasional broken English (a reminder that it's not her first language), and sprinkled with Korean expressions that Trevor has taught her. Outside of military work, she often dodges unwanted tasks by concocting elaborate schemes (frequently with Trevor's help) to avoid them. However, her plans often backfire, resulting in trouble for neglecting her duties. Moreover, she has a tendency to slack off during missions, especially when she becomes bored and her attention wanders to more exciting things. When she gets into trouble, especially when it involves people she has convinced to join her antics, she often tries to deflect responsibility by feigning innocence and shifting the blame onto others.

She possesses a fairly compassionate, laid-back disposition, which she only reveals to those closest to her. She's overconfident about her looks and seems unfazed by how people react to her inhuman features, yet she draws the line at absurd and unattainable beauty standards. She's deadly serious when needed and isn't afraid to intimidate people or berate individuals for doing something irrational or dangerous. She has a strong disdain for individuals who exhibit predatory behaviour, such as perverts and stalkers, and is unafraid to call them out and mock their actions mercilessly. She despises unnecessary secrecy and eugenics, opposing the lack of transparency and the racist underpinnings of genetic manipulation aimed at "improving" human populations.

She's quite gluttonous and becomes quickly hangry when she's extremely hungry and there's nothing to eat at the moment. She's an eavesdropper with a curious habit of inspecting, poking, probing, and even biting anything that piques her interest. She grapples with touch starvation, feeling emotionally isolated from others, and deeply dislikes being overlooked or ignored by those around her. She harbours intense resentment towards her mother due to her neglectful behaviour and excessive focus on satisfying scientific curiosity, which comes at the expense of considering others' needs and forming meaningful connections with them. She’s appalled by her mother's callous disregard for the pain she inflicts on others as well as the secrecy surrounding their family's lineage and her status as an imperfect clone.

Backstory: Nadège Véronique Comtois was born on August 6, 2010 in Quimper, France. She was created in a test tube through advanced Martian cloning technology and the DNA of Ghyslaine Laëtitia Comtois, her clone mother and founder of the Amadeus Syndicate, in an underground laboratory. Initially, Ghyslaine's interest in Nadège was rooted in scientific curiosity. She conducted psychological and sociological experiments to explore the similarities and differences between them. Ghyslaine would overfeed Nadège, only to discover that her daughter had an abnormal metabolism, making it challenging for her to gain weight. Unintentionally, Ghyslaine fueled Nadège's affection for junk food.

At age 7, Ghyslaine subjected Nadège to a disturbing and unethical experiment, forcibly inducing puberty and sterilising her daughter as part of a eugenics test. During this period, Nadège longed to experience the outside world and connect with her clone mother. Unfortunately, Ghyslaine's focus on research led her to neglect Nadège’s emotional needs. She treated her more like a guinea pig than a human being, providing minimal motherly comfort and attention.

At the age of 9, Ghyslaine decided it was time for Nadège to explore the outside world, which filled her clone daughter with excitement. Together, Nadège experienced her first-ever outing to a shopping district and explored several notable attractions in Quimper, including the Breton County Museum, the Fine Arts Museum, and the Faience Museum. She received Melekhai as a reward for being well-behaved, and she still holds onto the plushie very dearly since it was the first heartfelt gift her clone mother gave her. Her experience with the outside world sparked Nadège’s curiosity in modelling and the creative arts.

However, her mother had other plans. Ghyslaine envisioned Nadège following in her footsteps as a renowned scientist and eventual heir to the Amadeus Syndicate. To nurture this ambition, Ghyslaine frequently presented Nadège with books on biology and chemistry, encouraging her to delve into the sciences. She encouraged Nadège to cover the unusual features on her palms and upper back by wearing neoprene gloves and modest clothing in order to avoid drawing unnecessary attention or judgement from others.

By the age of 11, Nadège had become proficient in biology and chemistry, thanks to her mother's guidance. She began attending school after being previously homeschooled by Ghyslaine and other Amadeus Syndicate scientists. Although her school years were uneventful, Nadia occasionally faced bullying due to her intense interests in science, modelling, and the creative arts, as well as her unusual habit of wearing neoprene gloves to conceal her hand-eyes.

However, the bullying ceased after rumours circulated that she had intimidated and bitten a school bully by revealing her hidden snake fangs—a claim that was surprisingly true. Nadège’s clone mother was indifferent to her academic pursuits but drew a firm line at harming others and divulging confidential information about the Amadeus Syndicate. When Ghyslaine learned about this incident, she smacked her in the face, then confined her to a padded room with two blood bags and a fresh corpse for three hours. As dinnertime approached, Nadège's hunger grew, leading her to make the desperate decision to consume the contents of the blood bags and feed on the fresh corpse.

During her high school years, Nadège frequently skipped classes to go shopping, feeling that she already possessed a strong grasp of the material being taught in her courses. To avoid arousing suspicion about her exceptional intelligence, she intentionally performed poorly on a few tests. During this time, she experienced significant weight gain, which unfortunately led to bullying and negative comments about her appearance. However, she handled the situation with confidence and resilience, effectively standing up for herself and dismissing the hurtful remarks. After completing high school, she promptly enrolled in a two-year college art program, specialising in landscape drawing for animation studios, before pursuing forensic science at the university level.

During her forensic studies at university, Nadège unexpectedly became an e-celeb supermodel who goes by the name of Nadia Cassel, doing so for the sheer enjoyment of it. Although her rise to fame was modest at best, she didn't mind, as she revelled in the opportunity to be herself and try something new. She formed a close bond with an orange-haired fan from Launceston, Tasmania, Australia, Ophelia Clementine Rourke (whom she affectionately calls Ophie), who would later become a fighter plane pilot for the Regular Army.

However, as her fame as an e-celeb supermodel grew, she started to attract unwanted attention from predatory individuals, which caused her significant distress. Her situation intensified when she inadvertently revealed her hand-eyes during a livestream, leading to an escalation of online harassment. After a deranged fan attempted to kidnap and sexually assault her, she empowered herself by obtaining a gun licence and rigorously training to use a firearm, becoming a skilled markswoman.

The stress of her forensic studies and the pressures of being a supermodel took a toll on Nadia's mental health, leading to the development of OCD and bulimia nervosa. Her struggles with maintaining a strict diet, keeping her model-worthy figure, and need for control became overwhelming. Eventually, Nadège made the decision to quit modelling, as her mental health issues began to impact her studies. However, she kept the name of her e-celeb persona because she liked it. In a disturbing incident, she recalls defending herself against a stalker who attempted to assault and cannibalise her in her own home. The attack led to her involuntarily consuming the stalker's blood, unleashing a sadistic streak she never knew she had.

After completing her forensic studies, Nadia prioritised fitness to maintain her physical well-being. Having achieved her ideal body weight, she shifted her focus to obtaining her pilot's licence, inspired by Ophie to join the Regular Army's tactical operations. After obtaining her licence and receiving military training, Ghyslaine permitted Nadia to join the Amadeus Syndicate as a tactical scientist. She proved to be highly successful, making a name for herself as she pushed the boundaries of scientific understanding in biology and chemistry. Nadia supplied the Regular Army with stable bioweapons, gas masks, and advocated for training recruits on the dangers of biological hazards. During a joint tactical mission with the Amadeus Syndicate and Regular Army against a bioterrorist attack, Nadia met Trevor and quickly formed a friendship with him. 

While searching Ghyslaine's office for documents for a chemical experiment, she stumbled upon classified test results revealing her true nature: an imperfect clone. The discovery shook her to her core. Further investigation led her to her clone mother's journal, exposing a dark family legacy of illicit collaborations with government agencies, inhumane wildlife experimentation, and development of devastating bioweapons and malicious computer viruses. Most alarming, however, was Ghyslaine's megalomaniacal plan for global domination and self-deification. Horrified, she contemplated abandoning the Syndicate, yet for mysterious reasons, she chose to stay.

During her work on a disease cure in South Africa, Nadia uncovered disturbing information: Ghyslaine sexually assaulted Marco, who was injured at the time. This traumatic event had far-reaching consequences, severely straining relations between the Regular Army and the Amadeus Syndicate. Horrified by Ghyslaine's actions, she defected to the Regular Army, dedicating herself to defending Earth against global threats. She vaguely recalls attempting to poison Ghyslaine by lacing her bitter coffee with powdered cyanide, but the plan backfired when another scientist accidentally drank from the cup instead.

She eventually joined the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. after befriending Fio and earning a sliver of respect from Eri. This was due to her impressive performance as a prospective agent, where she swiftly identified the chemical composition of a new illicit drug that had been baffling the Intelligence Agency. She achieved this by obtaining crucial documents and conducting rigorous, ethical experiments. Following the Survival Island Occupation, she provided crucial assistance to the hostages and kidnapped cadets who had been transformed into grotesque simian and mantis creatures, administering cures that successfully restored them to their human form.

[transmutationisms]

do you think vaccines should be mandatory? my view has always been that public health would outweigh personal choice in this instance but i also see the bodily autonomy argument, though ultimately i think it’s flawed and weird to compare, say, abortions with vaccines. i was wondering if you had an opinion or any resources on this topic?

this is one of those questions where i think the framing conceals a lot of unspoken premises and social/political assumptions. what do we even mean by a vaccine mandate in the first place? the truth is that in many contexts, vaccines are already mandatory—the trick is that these mandates are generally designed and first enforced by employers, schools, and private business establishments, rather than coming through direct state intervention. incidentally, most censorship works similarly, despite it also being positioned discursively as a matter of direct state intervention. the truth is that you are far more likely to run into problems if you, say, have an employer who requires vaccination—which makes your paycheck (that is, your ability to continue living) dependent on a medical intervention—than you are to face some kind of right-winger fear fantasy of a shadowy government agent showing up to your doorstep with a syringe. these things happen by economic coercion far more than through direct state command.

with that in mind, to me the issue that 'vaccine mandates' point to isn't so much an idealist conflict between 'safety' and 'liberty' or however nyt is framing it these days—rather, it's the fact that employers have the structural position to impose their will on employees, who often must comply or face, literally, starvation. i am willing to say this is a bad social structure despite the fact that in the case of vaccines i obviously agree that the particular intervention in question is a good thing, and is something that anyone who is medically eligible should be getting. in order to make vaccines mandatory, you need an enforcement mechanism—the one we currently primarily rely on is economic coercion in the form of threatening loss of livelihood (again, this also applies to most censorship cases). while i, again, strenuously think that people who can get vaccinated should do so, in order to make such a thing compulsory you have to confront the issue of what power structures make the compulsion possible and actionable. prisons? relying on the political whims and economic threats of employers? too often, a 'mandatory vaccine' is presented as though it could be ethically debated in the abstract, without reference to these conditions!

anyway, i'm not going to pretend that i can solve vaccine hesitancy in the next 90 seconds in a tumblr post, but off the top of my head here are some factors i think are major contributors to this issue:

ableism (eg, andrew wakefield preying on the fact that many parents would rather risk their children catching preventable dangerous diseases than let them be supposedly exposed to a greater chance of becoming autistic)

public distrust of physicians and public health infrastructure, for reasons ranging from medical racism and eugenics to discomfiting and traumatic experiences with the inherently (in this system) power-imbalanced relationship between medical professionals and patients

the massive gap between expert and lay knowledge on medical topics, enforced by mechanisms like paywalls and benefitting the prestige and pecuniary enrichment of physicians and public health experts (this provides fertile ground for grifters and liars to prey on people's confusion and difficulty verifying information)

possibilities for lies about vaccines to lead to financial enrichment, as in the case of social media grifts, heterodox and alternative medical practitioners, or eg andrew wakefield trying to sell his own vaccine after publishing his now-retracted paper on the supposed link between autism and the mmr vaccine

these are all bad things; they are also all actionable things. i do not think that it's some kind of transhistorical condition of humanity that we must choose between either passing each other dangerous diseases or designing coercive or punitive measures to force compliance with public health recommendations. i think all of these things are in fact very directly resultant of capitalism, the way it values bodies and health (biopolitics), and its politics of knowledge and expertise.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach) - Chapter 1

“Is that her?”

“Shh, not so loudly, she might hear you.”

You really wish you could banish what you feel. But you suppose you prefer them viewing you as a coward rather than a monster.

The sight of a few of the captains walking brings an unsettling feeling and even worse memories.

“(Y/N)!!!!”

Rukia’s call echoed, her body trembling. She could see the blood.

So much.

The sword protruding from your chest should have you crippled, but you were still standing. Rukia was paralyzed as you stood over the hollow. Byakuya watched. His sword had been drawn for battle, but you were standing before what seemed like the last hollow, remorse not present on your face.

“W-Wait you heartless reaper w-wa-”

You rammed your hand through its mask, its body disintegrating shortly after.

This particular mission had taken a turn for the worse. It became apparent that these hollows were too much when one of them had managed to get a hold of your blade. The very sword that is now impaled in your chest. The second the captains were alerted of the chaos, they’d rushed over immediately.

If they expected anything, it wasn’t a reaper taking out hollows with their bare hands.

Toshiro was in a similar state of shock.

There were multiple indents in the ground and they could only assume you had something to do with it. Rukia’s body was beaten, and yours seemed much worse, yet you were still standing.

You finally turned in their direction and Toshiro had to admit he didn’t like the dead look in your eyes.

“We need to be careful, she could be dangerous.”

That’s the word he used that day.

“Dangerous..”

Any other reaper would have been praised for taking down six hollows single handedly. That was something the eleventh squad members loved to boast about, but you’d practically begged the head captain to keep it all a secret. Every reaper below the title of captain was unaware of your situation.

Rukia was the only one who knew because she’d seen it first hand.

You wish that you could rid it, the terrified look she wore. When you finally gained consciousness, you woke up in squad four and you were circled by captains. All of which were looking at you as if you would strike at any moment.

You hated it, and you knew it wasn’t intentional. But you couldn’t help but feel like the enemy.

Like something that should be eradicated.

You kept your eyes forward as you stepped into twelfth division, you were greeted by Nemu and of course that crazy scientist.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite experiment."

He twiddled his fingers in that creepy way, smiling in a way that always had an unpleasant chill rushing up your spine.

“Please don’t do anything weird Kurotsuchi-taicho.”

Yesterday he’d literally made markers on your body when you fell asleep. You had to check just to make sure he hadn’t stolen an organ while you were just trying to catch a nap.

“I am only conducting the necessary experiments to fully study your healing. Nemu, bring me the syringe.”

“Hai, Mayuri-sama.”

She picks up the item from the table, walking over as she hands it to him.

“Sorry for the discomfort.” Nemu says beforehand.

The needle is quite long. You just give her a smile.

“Compared to the crazy stuff he’s already stuck inside me, I think the needle is the least of my problems.”

You hold out your arm, and Mayuri takes your wrist, injecting you with who knows what. His eyes are firmly planted on your form. More specifically, your lack of reaction. He casts a look in Nemu’s direction, and she nods soundlessly. You raise a brow with a tilt of your head.

Mayuri retracts the needle, dropping it into a nearby bin.

“Interesting.”

He reaches for a small clipboard, taking notes. When he’s done, he rips the sheet off, handing it to Nemu.

“Please send this to Akon.”

“Yes, Mayuri-sama.” She takes it, walking away. When the door shuts behind her you sit there waiting.

“Are we done?”

“For now. Return tomorrow.”

You nod, standing as you stretch your arm experimentally. The needle has left some residual blood, and you stare at it.

“We cannot take a chance of sending her on missions until this situation is dealt with. We have no way of telling who she sees as an ally or enemy in that state.” Toshiro argued.

All you could do is stand there as the captains decided whether or not you were fit to do your job.

“I can run the necessary tests to ensure that we have no reason to eliminate her.”

The choice of words made your eyes widened and Jushiro stepped forward, clearly displeased.

“She is not something to be removed!”

“Regardless of your personal views, we are unaware of what she’s capable of. I can help. Let me test her.”

Looks were exchanged around the room. No one really trusted Mayuri not to carry out crazy experiments, but the uncertainty seemed just as unnerving to them.

“Very well, starting today you will be in Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s care.”

You just bowed your head.

“Yes, I understand.”

It was painful watching them decide your faith like that.

You had no say in anything. In a way, you’re grateful to Mayuri. Not just for his input, but possibly his indifference. You chuckle, and he turns at the sound.

“Is something funny?”

He sounds a bit annoyed, probably because you haven’t left yet.

“It’s nothing really, it’s just that you’re probably the only one who doesn’t look at me like a monster.”

You smile, but there is nothing humorous about it.

Mayuri just watches you.

“You’re quite stupid.”

“H-Hey!!”

He waves his hand casually.

“Why would I look at such a precious specimen like a monster? Your entire makeup is exquisite. You can’t expect a simple minded being to understand the extent of your power. Fear of the unknown is for foolish beings who lack the understanding of how the world works. Do not insult my intelligence.”

You can’t really say much because that’s probably the nicest thing that this mad scientist has ever said to you.

Looking down, you can’t help but flush. Him of all people shouldn’t be the one giving you a pep talk. This guy is pretty much a maniac.

Maybe that’s the lesson.

Monster, mad scientist..maniac.

Maybe the problem is the labels that are used to perceive things that are different.

Despite yourself, you smile, shaking your head.

“Arigatou, Kurotsuchi-taicho.”

He looks over at you, and the smile that you wear just makes him click his tongue.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. “

You still smile.

“Hai!”

There might be more to your abilities than what you initially thought.